"I'll be
ready when Miss Page comes in. Good night, John."
Silently, without awaiting promise or protest from the girl, he was
gone into the deeper shadows of the cottonwoods.
CHAPTER VI
A RIDE THROUGH THE NIGHT
Ignacio Chavez, because thus he could be of service to _el senor_
Roderico Nortone whom he admired vastly and loved like a brother, drew
to the dregs upon his fine Latin talent, doubled up and otherwise
contorted and twisted his lithe body until the sweat stood out upon his
forehead. His groans would have done ample justice to the occasion had
he been dying.
Virginia treated him sparingly to a harmless potion she had secured at
her room on the way, put the bottle into the hands of Ignacio's
withered and anxious old mother, informed the half dozen Indian
onlookers that she had arrived in time and that the bell-ringer would
live, and then was impatient to go with Engle to Struve's hotel. Here
Engle left her to return to his home and to send the saddle-horse he
had promised Norton.
"You can ride, can't you, Virginia?" he had asked.
"Yes," she assured him.
"Then I'll send Persis around; she's the prettiest thing in horseflesh
you ever saw. And the gamest. And, Virginia . . ."
He hesitated. "Well?" she asked.
"There's not a squarer, whiter man in the world than Rod Norton," he
said emphatically.
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