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Page 36
In his room, Terence was giving some directions to his man, Brooks. "Have
this stuff done up in a parcel," he said, "and ship it to the address on
that card."
The card was that of a New York costumer. The "stuff" was a gentleman's
costume of the days of '76, made of white satin, with silver buckles,
white silk stockings, and white kid shoes. A powdered wig and a sword
completed the dress.
"And look about, Brooks," added Terence, a little anxiously, "for a silk
handkerchief with my initials in one corner. I must have dropped it
somewhere."
It was a month later when Mrs. Bellmore and one or two others of the smart
crowd were making up a list of names for a coaching trip through the
Catskills. Mrs. Bellmore looked over the list for a final censoring. The
name of Terence Kinsolving was there. Mrs. Bellmore ran her prohibitive
pencil lightly through the name.
"Too shy!" she murmured, sweetly, in explanation.
XI JIMMY HAYES AND MURIEL
I
Supper was over, and there had fallen upon the camp the silence that
accompanies the rolling of corn-husk cigarettes. The water hole shone
from the dark earth like a patch of fallen sky. Coyotes yelped. Dull
thumps indicated the rocking-horse movements of the hobbled ponies as they
moved to fresh grass. A half-troop of the Frontier Battalion of Texas
Rangers were distributed about the fire.
A well-known sound -- the fluttering and scraping of chaparral against
wooden stirrups -- came from the thick brush above the camp. The rangers
listened cautiously. They heard a loud and cheerful voice call out
reassuringly:
"Brace up, Muriel, old girl, we're 'most there now! Been a long ride for
ye, ain't it, ye old antediluvian handful of animated carpet-tacks? Hey,
now, quit a tryin' to kiss me! Don't hold on to my neck so tight -- this
here paint hoss ain't any too shore-footed, let me tell ye. He's liable
to dump us both off if we don't watch out."
Two minutes of waiting brought a tired "paint" pony single-footing into
camp. A gangling youth of twenty lolled in the saddle. Of the "Muriel"
whom he had been addressing, nothing was to be seen.
"Hi, fellows!" shouted the rider cheerfully. "This here's a letter fer
Lieutenant Manning."
He dismounted, unsaddled, dropped the coils of his stake-rope, and got his
hobbles from the saddle-horn. While Lieutenant Manning, in command, was
reading the letter, the newcomer, rubbed solicitously at some dried mud in
the loops of the hobbles, showing a consideration for the forelegs of his
mount.
"Boys," said the lieutenant, waving his hand to the rangers, "this is Mr.
James Hayes. He's a new member of the company. Captain McLean sends him
down from El Paso. The boys will see that you have some supper, Hayes, as
soon as you get your pony hobbled."
The recruit was received cordially by the rangers. Still, they observed
him shrewdly and with suspended judgment. Picking a comrade on the border
is done with ten times the care and discretion with which a girl chooses a
sweetheart. On your "side-kicker's" nerve, loyalty, aim, and coolness
your own life may depend many times.
After a hearty supper Hayes joined the smokers about the fire. His
appearance did not settle all the questions in the minds of his brother
rangers. They saw simply a loose, lank youth with tow-coloured,
sun-burned hair and a berry-brown, ingenuous face that wore a quizzical,
good-natured smile.
"Fellows," said the new ranger, "I'm goin' to interduce to you a lady
friend of mine. Ain't ever heard anybody call her a beauty, but you'll
all admit she's got some fine points about her. Come along, Muriel!"
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