Once Upon a Time In The South

It began in the North. We were hunting for deer at the lower reaches of the Colorado River. Me and Zátonyi. Later on, we set out for the South along the railway line, seeking for warmer climate.
We took shelter in dilapidated, abandoned shanties and revelled in cheap pubs.
I remember stealing horses near the Mexican border once. At night, we fastened the horses to each other, one after the other, so as not to make a noise. So did we lead the horses through the scrubs, further and further from the camp of the Mexicans.
We recognized only at dawn that we have tethered the last horse to the first one. Certainly we went round and round all night long.
And the Mexicans just sit by the remains of the campfire and watched us silently. Us and their horses.
Then the ordinary story again. Rope around my neck and I on Zatonyi’s neck. Accordion in his mouth.
I will never forget how false he blew it.
The pictures were taken in that time.