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Page 53
As Echo turned toward home a song sprang to her lips. Polly
spied her far down the trail.
"Boys, she's coming," she shouted to the men, who were at the
bunk-house awaiting Mrs. Payson's return. As they passed the
corral they called to Jack and Allen to join them in the
living-room to prepare for the surprise for Echo.
The party quickly reassembled.
"Good land!" shouted Allen, "get something to cover the pianny
with!"
The punchers rushed in confusion about the room in a vain search.
"Ain't there a plagued thing we can cover the pianny with?" cried
the demoralized Allen, renewing his appeal.
Polly came to the rescue of the helpless men by plucking a Navajo
blanket from the couch. Tossing one end of it to Show Low, she
motioned to him to help hold it up before the instrument like a
curtain.
"Stand in front of it, everybody," ordered Mrs. Allen, who had
left her cake-baking and hurried in from the kitchen. "Polly,
spread your skirts--you, too, Jim."
Allen ran in front of the piano, holding out an imaginary dress
in imitation of Polly. "Which I ain't got none," he cried.
Parenthesis jumped in front of the piano-stool, trying vainly to
hide it with his legs.
"Parenthesis, put your legs together," Mrs. Allen cried.
"I can't, ma'am," wailed the unfortunate puncher. He fell on his
knees before the stool, spreading out his waistcoat for a screen.
Mrs. Allen helped him out with her skirts.
"Steady, everybody!" shouted Jack.
"Here she is!" yelled Sage-brush, as the door opened and the
astonished Echo faced those she loved and liked.
Echo made a pretty picture framed in the doorway. She wore her
riding-habit of olive-green--from the hem of which peeped her
soft boots. Her hat, broad, picturesque, typical of the
Southwest, had slipped backward, forming a background for her
pretty face. An amused smile played about the corners of her
mouth.
"Well, what is it?" she smiled inquiringly.
The group looked at her sheepishly. No one wanted to answer her
question.
"What's the matter?" she resumed. "You're herded up like a bunch
of cows in a norther."
Sage-brush began gravely to explain. He got only as far as:
"This yere bein' a birthday," when Echo interrupted him: "Oh!
then it's a birthday-party?"
Once stopped, Sage-brush could not get started again. He cleared
his throat with more emphasis than politeness; striking the
attitude of an orator, with one hand upraised and the other on
his hip, he hemmed and hawed until beads of perspiration trickled
down his temples.
Again he nerved himself for the ordeal.
"Mebbe," he gasped.
Then he opened and closed his mouth, froglike, several times,
taking long, gulping breaths. At last, looking helplessly about
him, he shouted: "Oh, shucks! you tell her, Jack." He pushed
him toward Echo. Jack rested his hand on the table and began:
"We've a surprise for you--that is, the boys have--"
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