"Jack, you've
got to get them bloody clothes off, and some decent ones on. Come on,
Bill; half an hour ain't any too much time to get ready in."
Half-way to the house they walked without saying a word. Then Dade,
walking between the two, suddenly clapped a hand down upon the shoulder
of each.
"Say, I could holler my head off!" he exulted. "I'm going to quit
worrying about anything, after this; the nights I've laid awake and
worried myself purple over this darned fiesta--or the duel, rather! And
things are turning out smooth as a man could ask.
"Jack, I'm proud to death of you, and that's a fact. With that temper of
yours, I kinda looked for you to get this whole outfit down on you; but
the way you acted, I don't believe there's a man here, except Manuel,
that's got any real grudge against you, even if they did lose a lot of
money on the fight. And it's all the way you behaved, old boy--like a
prince! Just--like a--blamed prince!"
"Oh, I don't know--Jose acted pretty white, himself. You've got to admit
that it's Jose that took the fight out of the crowd. I'm glad--" He did
not finish the sentence, and they were considerate enough not to insist
that he should.
* * * * *
Warm sunlight, and bonfires fallen to cheerless, charred embers and
ashes gone gray; warm sunlight, and eyes grown heavy with the weariness
of surfeited pleasure. Bullock carts creaked again, their squealing
growing gradually fainter as the fat-jowled senoras lurched home to the
monotony of life, while the senoritas drowsed and dreamed, and smiled in
their dreaming.
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