"Why, yas," I answers, "and I'm tickled to sight a familiar face.
Fer by jingo! I'm busted. Can you loan me a dollar?"
He got kinda sick 'round the gills. "Wal, the fact is," he says,
swallerin' two 'r three times, "I'm clean broke myself."
Just then a gal with a pink cinch comes walkin' along. She was one
of them Butte-belle lookin' ladies, with blazin' cheeks, and hair
that's a cross 'twixt _mo_lasses candy and the pelt of a kit-fox.
She was leadin' a dog that looked plumb ashamed of hisself.
"Pretty gal," says the mealy-mouthed gent, grinnin' some more. "And
I know her. Like t' be interdooced?"
"Don't bother," I says. (Her hay was a little too weathered fer _me_.)
"Nice red cheeks," he says, rubbin' his paws t'gether.
"Ya-a-as," I says, "_mighty nice_. But you oughta see the squaws out
in Oklahomaw. They varies it with yalla and black."
He give me a kinda keen look. Then he moseyed.
It wasn't more 'n a' hour afterwards when somebody passed that I
knowed--in one of them dinky, little buggies that ain't got no cover.
Who d' you think it was?--that Doctor Bugs!
I was at his hoss's haid 'fore ever he seen me. "Hole up, Simpson,"
I says, "I want t' talk to you."
"Why, Alec Lloyd!" he says.
"That's my name."
"How 'd _you_ git here?" He stuck out one of them soft paws of hisn.
"Wal, I got turned this way, and then I just follered my nose." (I
didn't take his hand. I'd as soon 'a' touched a snake.)
"Wal, I'm glad t' see you." (That was a whopper.) "How's ev'rybody
in Briggs?"
"Never you mind about Briggs. I want t' ast _you_ somethin': Where's
Macie Sewell?"
"I don't know."
"Don't tell me that," I come back. "I know you're lyin'. When you
talked that gal into the op'ra business, you had 'a' ax t' grind,
yas, you did. Now, _where is she?_"
He looked plumb nervous. "I tell y', I don't know," he answers;
"_honest,_ I don't. I've saw her just oncet--the day after she got
here. I offered t' do anythin' I could fer her, but she didn't seem
t' appreciate my kindness."
"All right," I says. "But, Simpson, listen: If you've said a word
t' that gal that you oughtn't to, 'r if you've follered 'round after
her any when she didn't want you should, you'll hear from _me_. Salt
_that_ down." And I let him go.
Meetin' _him_ that-a-way, made me feel a heap better. If I could run
into the only man I knowed in the city of Noo York, then, sometime, I'd
shore come acrosst _her_.
That was the last day I set on the steps of the statue. About sundown,
I ast a police feller if anybody could ride in the park without me
seein' 'em from where I was. "Why, yas," he says, "they's plenty
of entrances, all right. This is just where a few comes in and out.
The best way to see the riders is to go ride you'self."
Don't know why I didn't think of that _afore_. But I didn't lose
no time. Next mornin', I was up turrible early and makin' fer a barn
clost to the park. I found one easy--pretty frequent thereabouts, y'
savvy,--and begun t' dicker on rentin' a hoss. Prices was high, but I
done my best, and they led out a nag. And what do you think? It had on
one of them saddles with no horn,--a shore enough _muley_.
Say! that was a hard proposition. "I ast fer a saddle," I says, "not
a postage stamp." But the stable-keeper didn't have no other. So I got
on and rode slow. When I struck the timber, I felt better, and I started
my bronc up. She was one of them kind that can go all day on a shingle.
And her front legs acted plumb funny--jerked up and down. I figgered it
was the spring halt. But pretty soon I seen other hosses goin' the same
way. So I swallered it, like I done the saddle.
But they was one thing about my cayuse made me hot. She wouldn't lope.
No, ma'am, it was trot, trot, trot, trot, till the roots of my hair was
loose, and the lights was near shook outen me. You bet I was mighty glad
none of the outfit could see me!
But if they'd 'a' thought _I_ was funny, they'd 'a' had a duck-fit
at what I seen. First a passel of men come by, all in bloomers, humpin'
fast,--_up_ and down, _up_ and down--Monkey Mike, shore's you live!
None of 'em looked joyful, and you could pretty nigh hear they knees
squeak! Then 'long come a gal, humpin' just the same, and hangin'
on to the side of her cayuse fer dear life, lookin' ev'ry step like
she was goin' to avalanche. And oncet in a while I passed a feller that
was runnin' a cultivator down the trail,--to keep it nice and soft,
I reckon, fer the ladies and gents t' fall on.
But whilst I was gettin' kinda used to things, I didn't stop keepin'
a' eye out. I went clean 'round the track twicet. No Macie. I tell y',
I begun to feel sorta caved-in. Then, all of a suddent, just as I was
toppin' a little rise of ground, I seen her!
_She_ wasn't hangin' on to the side of her hoss, no, ma'am! She was
ridin' the prettiest _kind_ of a bronc, fat and sassy. And she was
settin' a-straddle, straight and graceful, in a spick-and-span new suit,
and a three-cornered hat like George Washington.
I let out a yell that would 'a' raised the hair of a reservation Injun.
"Macie Sewell!" I says--just like that. I give my blamed little nag a
hit that put her into her jerky trot. And I come 'longside, humpin'
like Sam Hill.
She pulled her hoss down to a standstill; and them long eye-winkers of
hern lifted straight up into the air, she was so surprised. "Alec!"
she says.
"Yas, Alec," I answers. "Aw, dear little gal, is y' glad t' see me?"
"Wal, what 're _you_ doin' here!" she goes on. "I cain't hardly
believe what I see."
I was so blamed flustered, and so happy, and so--so scairt, that I had
t' go say the _one_ thing that was plumb foolish. "I'm on hand t'
take you back home if you're ready," I answers. (Hole on till I give
myself another good, ten-hoss-power kick!)
Up till now, her look 'd been all friendly enough. But now of a suddent
it got cold and offish. "Take me home!" she begun; "_home!_ Wal, I
like that! Why, I'm just about t' make a great, big success, _yas_. And
I'll thank you not t' spoil my chanst with any more of you' tricks."
She swung her bronc round into the trail.
"Macie! Spoil you' chanst!" I answers. "Why, honey, I wouldn't do
that. I only want t' be friends----"
Her eyes can give out fire just like her paw's. And when I said that,
she give me one turrible mad stare. Then, she throwed up her chin,
spurred her bronc, and went trottin' off, a-humpin' the same as the
rest of the ladies.
I follered after her as fast as I could. "Macie," I says, "talk ain't
goin' t' show you how I feel. And I'll not speak to you again till you
want me to. But I'll allus be clost by. And if ever you need me----"
She set her hoss into a run then. So I fell behind--and come nigh
pullin' the mouth plumb outen that crow-bait I was on. "Wal, Mister
Cupid," I says to myself, "that Kansas cyclone the boss talked about
seems t' be still a-movin'."