“Yeah, I knew. Mrs. Morales just sat there, countin’ her beads, movin’ her lips, never looked up at all. She wasn’t cryin’--jist countin’ ’em, I reckon.” “I kinda figured that her and Frenchy would get hitched,” said another of the men. “They used to go down into Mexico to dances, and all that. Frenchy can talk Mexican pretty good.” Hashknife and Sleepy went up to their room to leave their war-bags. Sleepy flung his bag into a corner and stood there, his hands on his hips, looking at Hashknife, who sat down to roll…