complete-guide

stepped up to present their respects to the commander.
"General, so pleased! . . . Major! Delighted to meet you!"
"That's right! I love refined and educated friends,"
Blondie said. "Come on, boys," he added, jovially drawing
his gun, "I'm going to play a tune that'll make you
all dance."
A bullet ricocheted on the cement floor passing between
the legs of the tables, and the smartly dressed
young men-about-town began to jump much as a woman
jumps when frightened by a mouse under her skirt. Pale
as ghosts, they conjured up wan smiles of obsequious approval.
Demetrio barely parted his lips, but his followers
doubled over with laughter.
"Look, Blondie," Quail shouted, "look at that man
going out there. Look, he's limping."
"I guess the bee stung him all right."
Blondie, without turning to look at the wounded man,
announced with enthusiasm that he could shoot off the
top of a tequila bottle at thirty paces without aiming.
"Come on, friend, stand up," he said to the waiter.
He dragged him out by the hand to the patio of the
hotel and set a tequila bottle on his head. The poor
devil refused. Insane with fright, he sought to escape,
but Blondie pulled his gun and took aim.
"Come on, you son of a sea cook! If you keep on
I'll give you a nice warm one!"
Blondie went to the opposite wall, raised his gun and
fired. The bottle broke into bits, the alcohol poured over
the lad's ghastly face.
"Now it's a go," cried Blondie, running to the bar to
get another bottle, which he placed on the lad's head.
He returned to his former position, he whirled about,
and shot without aiming. But he hit the waiter's ear instead
of the bottle. Holding his sides with laughter, he