From the great
platform built under a group of live oaks near the patio they heard the
resonant plunk-plunk-plunk of a harp making ready for the dance, and the
shrill laughter of slim senoritas hovering there. Down the slope before
the three the shadows stretched longer and longer. A violin twanged in
the tuning, the harp-strings crooning the key.
"You fellows are going to dance, ain't yuh?" Bill inquired lazily, when
his cigar was half gone to ashes and smoke. "Jack, here, can get
pardners enough to keep him going fer a week--judging by the eyes them
Spanish girls have been making at him since the duel and the
horse-breaking.
"Say! How about that sassy-eyed Picardo girl? I ain't seen you and her
in speaking distance all day; and the way you was buzzing around her
when I was down here before--"
"Say, Jack," Dade interrupted, diplomacy winning against politeness, "I
never dreamed you'd have the nerve to try that fancy corkscrew throw of
yours before all that crowd. Why, after two years to get out of
practice, you took an awful chance of making a fool of yourself! Y'see,
Bill," he explained with a deliberate garrulity, "that throw he made
when he caught the horse was the finest bit of rope-work that's been
done to-day. I don't believe there's another man in the crowd that could
do it; and the chances are they never saw it done before, even! I know I
never saw but one man beside Jack that could do it.
Pages:
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283