Breathless and flushed with exercise the other girls now dropped into
their seats. The hot, crowded room, the dust raised by the shuffling of
many feet on the floor and the strange company rather bewildered them.
Only Nancy had really enjoyed the experience, because Jim was an
excellent dancer; and he had guided her carefully through the mazes of
the jigging two-step.
But there was to be further entertainment before they might be allowed
to stroll out under the stars and breathe in the fresh air. A Mexican
cowboy with a broad crimson sash around his waist, a border of
bright-colored fringe edging the side of his trousers and jingling spurs
on his high-heeled boots, danced a wild fandango to a Spanish tune with
a throbbing accompaniment on the guitar, which seemed to grow faster and
faster as he struck his heels on the floor.
Then the music stopped and two Indians appeared. One of them squatted on
the floor and began beating monotonously on a small kind of a drum or
tom-tom. The other Indian in full regalia began dancing slowly in a
circle, stooping low as if he were hiding from his prey which he would
presently pounce upon and destroy utterly. He was a barbaric and
war-like figure and the girls unconsciously shrunk back as he danced by
them. Gradually the dance grew wilder and the steps quicker. The Indian
gave a strange bird-like cry, and for the fraction of a moment paused in
front of Billie. With another cry that had a familiar sound he flashed a
black glance of hatred into her face and was gone.
Again Billie thought she recognized a likeness. She turned her
bewildered eyes downward, her face flushing with embarrassment. There in
her lap was a long, grayish feather.
"What's this for?" she demanded, turning to Barney McGee.
"I reckon it's a complimentary souvenir for you, Miss Billie," replied
the ranchman. "It's one of Hawkeseye's jokes, a quill from a hawk's
wing."
"Hawkeseye," repeated Billie.
"Oh, yes, we call him that for fun. His name is Buckthorne Hawkes. He
ain't all Injun, you know. He's really the Missus' brother, but he can
certainly fix himself up to look as much like a full-blooded Indian buck
as if he had just come from the reservation."
"Was he ever a peddler?" Billie asked.
Barney laughed.
"He's a graduate of Carlyle University," he answered. "He's come out
West to teach school."
In the meantime, Elinor had been led by Tony Blackstone into the
courtyard, where they sat down on a bench. Overhead the stars gleamed
with incredible brilliancy, partly because the stars from a Western
plain seem infinitely larger and grander than they do anywhere else, and
partly because they gazed at them from the depths of a small dark
courtyard.
"Perhaps Miss Campbell would not like to have me leave the--the
ballroom," said Elinor, not knowing how to designate the dining room in
its present use.
"It's only a step away," said Tony Blackstone, "and we can't talk in
there very well. You remind me of--of an English girl I once knew, and
it would be just common charity to talk to me a little."
"Are you homesick, then?" asked Elinor.
"Sometimes. If anything happens to remind me of--of my other home."
"Then you are not happy here?" the young girl demanded quickly, as if
this were a confirmation of her suspicions.
"There are times when I am happy," he said. "When I am riding at night
across the plains on a horse that goes like the wind. It is wonderful
then, especially when the moon is full. I can almost forget that I have
an identity at such times."
There was a long pause. Elinor hardly knew what to say, and she watched
the young man gravely. That he was deeply moved by the memories her own
face had conjured up she could plainly see. His lips twitched
convulsively and he clenched his hands as if he were trying to choke the
thoughts that would rise in his mind. Why had he come away from home and
lost himself in this distant place?
They sat thus for some time watching the stars silently. A sympathy had
sprung up between them and they seemed to have known each other for a
long time.
"What was her name?" she asked at last in a low voice.
"Elinor," he burst out. "Elinor, the same as yours," and he turned his
face away.
Perhaps he was crying. Elinor never knew, although it seemed strange for
a big splendid cowboy to shed tears.
"I'm so sorry for you," she said kindly, and laid her hand on his arm, a
great piece of condescension for her. "Touch-me-not" was a nick-name
given her long ago by her friends.
"Oh, Elinor, Elinor," he exclaimed, taking her hand in his, "if you
could only understand what the sight of your face and the sound of your
voice mean to me! If you could only know what I have lost by my folly,
my wretched, miserable folly!"
"Aren't you ever going back?" she asked, and she did not withdraw her
hand.
"It's too late now," he said. "She hates me--they all hate me!"
"Are you sure?" she persisted.
"Perfectly certain."
"Elinor, dear, I think you had better come back, now," called Miss
Campbell, who never let her girls out of her sight for long.
"Is Blackstone your real name?" Elinor asked as they paused before the
door of the dancing room.
"My real name," he replied, "is Algernon Blackstone de Willoughby
Winston."
Elinor repeated the names after him and buried them deep in her mind.
A Virginia reel was forming and Mrs. Steptoe has asked as an especial
favor if the young ladies would not dance. Nancy had given her hand to
Jim for the dance. It was the third time she had bestowed this honor
upon him, and with unconcealed joy he stood at the top of the line ready
to lead off. Billie was dancing with Barney McGee. Mary had accepted
Brek Steptoe as a partner and Elinor, with Algernon Blackstone de
Willoughby Winston now joined the line.
There were only three or four other women including Mrs. Steptoe, and
for the rest, cowboys and ranchmen danced together with perfect good
nature.
How strange it seemed to Miss Campbell, her four girls dancing among
these queer people. No wonder the other dancers forgot the figures of
the reel while they drank in the picture of their fresh young faces. It
was to them as if a garden of roses had suddenly sprung up in the
desert.
"Down the center," called the musician. "Now, right and left all
around."
The fiddle whined. The guitar thrummed passionately. Miss Campbell's
head was in a whirl.
"Ought we to have taken the risk of this visit?" she kept saying. "When
one is traveling one must have experiences," her thoughts continued.
"Besides, what harm can come of it? They are rough, kindly people, and
have taken so much trouble to give us this entertainment. But I really
don't care for all this noise and dust. I hope I shall never go to
another one."
The little lady leaned her head wearily against the wall and closed her
eyes. An arm slipped around her waist. It was Elinor, who having danced
her turn had quietly joined her. Her partner had disappeared in the
courtyard.
The two women exchanged meaning glances. The noisy dance, the jingling
spurs of the cowboys as the dancers came down the middle, and an
occasional loud laugh did not appeal to Elinor either.
"We must excuse ourselves, dear," Miss Campbell was saying, when
suddenly the courtyard resounded with a loud cry.
"You insufferable, black-livered hound," came the voice of Algernon
Blackstone de Willoughby Winston, "if I catch you sneaking around here
again with your knives, I'll throw you out to the coyotes."
The dance continued, and only one dancer dropped out. Either they had
not heard the disturbance, or else such disturbances were too common to
notice. It was, consequently, Rosina Steptoe alone, with face aflame and
eyes snapping like two little wells of fire, who signed to her partner
and approached the doorway. She was too angry to notice how near Miss
Campbell and Elinor were sitting to the open door.
"Tony, how dare you speak to my brother like that," she hissed into the
court. "I told you before I wouldn't have it."
"Nonsense, Rosina, your brother deserves a good thrashing for his
tricks. I just caught his arm as he was about to throw this dagger into
the room."
"It was only a little joke, Rosy," whined her brother.
"Joke be hanged," broke in the Englishman, "how dare you attempt to
frighten these ladies by such a joke. Try it again and I'll keep my
word."
"Don't you be so interferin' with the Hawkes family," cried Rosina
shrilly.
Miss Campbell rose. The dance was just reaching a climax with its final
right and left all round. She beckoned to the girls.
"If you don't mind, Mrs. Steptoe, I think we'll say good-night. We've
had a long day. The entertainment has been most delightful."
Rosina became humble under the gaze of the elegant little woman.
"I will show you to your rooms," she said meekly.
They bade the company a general good night, and it was not long before
they had locked themselves into their bedrooms, and following Miss
Campbell's instructions, had pushed the heaviest piece of furniture in
the room against each door.