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Page 35
Jack threw up his hands in protest, hastily denying any probable
charge that the tease might make. "Why, I haven't been saying a
word!" he cried.
Polly laughed as she ran to the door.
"No, you haven't," she answered mockingly, as one agrees with a
child whose feelings have been hurt. "He's only been tellin' me
he loved--" Pausing an instant, she pointed at Echo, ending her
sentence with a shouted "you."
With her hand on Jack's shoulder, Echo said: "Polly, you are a
flirt. You've too many strings to your bow."
"You mean I've too many beaux to my string!" laughingly answered
the girl.
"You'll have Slim Hoover and Bud Lane shooting each other up all
on your account," chided Echo.
"Nothing of the kind," pouted Polly. "Can't a girl have friends?
But I know what you two are waiting for?"
"What?" asked Jack.
"You want me to vamose. I'm hep. I'll vam."
And Polly ran into the kitchen to tell the men that the
bridegroom had arrived, but couldn't be seen until the bride was
through with an important interview with him. So she hustled
them all into the living-room, where the girls were.
This room was a long and low apartment, roughly plastered. The
heavy ceiling-beams, hewn with axes, were uncovered, giving an
old English effect, although this was not striven for, but made
under the stress of necessity. The broad windows were trellised
with vines, through which filtered the sunshine. A cooling
evening breeze stirred the leaves lazily. The chairs were broad
and comfortable--the workmanship of the monks of the neighboring
mission. In the corners stood squat, earthen water-jars of
Mexican molding. On the adobe walls were hung trophies of the
hunt; war-bonnets and the crudely made adornments of the Apaches.
Navajo blankets covered the window-seats, and were used as
screens for sets of shelves built into the spaces between the
windows.
Polly carried in on a tray a large bowl of punch surrounded by
glasses and gourds. This was received with riotous
demonstrations. She placed it in the center of a table made of
planks laid on trestles, and assisted by the other girls, served
the men liberally from the bowl.
The guests showed the effects of outdoor life and training. Their
gestures were full and free. The tones of their voices were
high-pitched, but they spoke more slowly than their Eastern
cousins, as if feeling the necessity, even when confined, of
making every word carry. No one lolled in his seat, but sat
upright, as if still having the feel of the saddle under him.
Toward women in all social gatherings, the cowboys act with
exaggerated chivalry, but, as Sage-brush would describe it, they
"herd by their lonesome." There is none of the commingling of
sexes seen in the East. At a dance the girls sit at one end of
the room, the men group themselves about the doorway until the
music strikes up. Then each will seize his partner after the
boldest has made the first move. When the dance-measure ends the
cowboy will rarely escort partner to her seat, but will leave her
to find her way back to her chum, while he moves sheepishly back
to the doorway, to be received by his fellows with slaps on the
back and loud jests. At table cowboys carry on little
conversation with the girls. They talk amongst themselves, but
at the women. The presence of the girls leads them to play many
pranks on one another. The ice is long in breaking, for their
habitual reserve is not easily worn off. Later in the evening
this shyness is less marked.
As Jack and Echo entered the doorway, Parenthesis had arisen from
his seat at the head of table and was beginning: "Fellow
citizens--"
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