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Bower, B. M., 1871-1940

"The Gringos"

He was not skilled in the ways of
women, yet he did not accuse her of deliberate coquetry, as a man is
prone to do under the smart of a hurt like his; for he sensed dimly
that it was but the seeking sex-instinct of healthy youth that
brightened her eyes and sent the laugh to her lips when she faced
a man who pleased her; and if she were fickle, it was with the
instinctive fickleness of one who has not made final choice of a mate.
Hope lifted its head at that, but he crushed it sternly into the dust
again; for the man who rode behind was his friend, whom he loved.
It is to be feared that the voice of the girl held more of his
attention than the complaint of the don, just then, and that the sting
of injustice under which Don Andres squirmed seemed less poignant and
vital than the hurt he himself was bearing. He answered him at random;
and he might have betrayed his inattention if they had not at that
moment caught sight of the interlopers.
Valencia had not borne false witness against them; the emigrants were
indeed cutting down trees. More, they were industriously hauling the
logs to the immediate vicinity of their camp, which was chosen with an
eye to many advantages; shade, water, a broad view of the valley and
plenty of open grass land already fit for the plow, if to plow were
their intention.
A loose-jointed giant of a man seated upon the load of logs which two
yoke of great, meek-eyed oxen had just drawn up beside a waiting pile
of their fellows, waited phlegmatically their approach.


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