"What do you think of that there girl with the yallow hair?" said Johnson, in a cautious whisper that could not be heard beyond fifty feet.

"I don't think much of her," Jim answered. "Too loose in the j'ints for me."

"I reckon she looks good enough to tie to," said Lafe.

In pursuance of this opinion, he began to haunt the vicinity of Grace Hawes. He danced two Paul Joneses with her; followed them with a two-step and a waltz; and by that time Miss Hawes was giggling in half-hysterical mirth over her partner's unusual sallies. She slapped playfully at Lafe when he leaned close to her ear to whisper.

"Say, you've got your nerve," she said, covering her face with her hands in an ecstasy of laughter.

"No, I ain't. Honest I ain't. I'm sure shy as a teeny li'l' rabbit with other girls."

"What makes you go to say them things then?"

"You do. You make me brighten up a heap. And I'd kind of like to learn to talk easy like the other boys."

"You've got 'em backed into the cactus right now," said Grace, once more overcome.

The two were occupying one of the wooden benches ranged against the walls. Johnson was obliged to give her up at this point to a man from New Mexico. His visage was expressionless as he watched her depart and then he crossed to the door to inst.i.tute inquiries as to how this interloper had contrived to get in.

"Let's run him off," said Jim. "That big Hick ought to be in a cotton-patch, anyhow."

"No-oo. She'd think I was jealous. And I'm not caring; not me. She can blister her feet for all of me, and he's a sure a-helping her. Watch him tromp on her toes. Say, Buf'lo, that's the third time she's danced with that there feller."

"What're you getting all swelled up about, Lafe?" Haverty asked, overhearing. "Quit your roaring. You mad just because Steve done took your girl?"

"Mad, h.e.l.l!" said Johnson. "Who is this here Steve, Haverty?"

"He done drifted in about a month ago. Works for the Tumbling K. You've heard of him, Lafe? Sh.o.r.e you have. Goes by the name of Moffatt. He done killed Hi Waggoner and Balaam Halsell and--"

"Now I've got you. Sure. He's the gunfighter. So that's Steve Moffatt?"

Lafe's eyes brightened and one would have thought that this discovery was the only thing needed to complete his satisfaction. He grinned genially at Moffatt when they chanced to meet at Miss Hawes's side, and exchanged polite surmises on the outlook for more rain. Said Mr.

Johnson, knowing well to the contrary: "Running sheep?"

"Cattle," said Moffatt shortly.

He studied Lafe with an oblique glance, not at all sure that no insult lurked in the query. Presently he whisked Miss Hawes away. The majority of the gentlemen at the ball held their partners with both hands around the shoulders, and this method afforded excellent opportunity for Grace to gaze up into Moffatt's eyes. Her own were deep blue and singularly enticing. Steve's were brown and very, very alert and steady, and Miss Hawes rapidly discovered that they refused to waver and grow uncertain, as was the habit of most masculine orbs. To Johnson, this exhibition seemed crude, even raw. He went outside where the refreshments were cached in order to find Buffalo.

"Say, Jim, I swan that don't seem the right way to dance," he said. "It don't look proper, hugging a girl that away."

"Huh! It don't, hey? You took to it smart enough. You weren't hollering.

Why, you didn't know whether you was on the floor or on the roof, when she had you going. It sort of made me tired, Lafe, the way you done.

Better leave her be."

An uproar broke out in the dance hall, and Johnson sped away to ascertain the cause and to quell it. Quiet descended as his foot touched the doorstep--a swift, ominous quiet. He discovered Moffatt standing in the corner occupied by the Mexican orchestra. One of the three players sprawled on the floor, rubbing his head and sobbing, and in front of the gunfighter was an abashed puncher from the Tumbling K range.

"What did you hit him with that there stool for?" Moffatt asked, as Lafe approached.

"He weren't keeping good time," said the cowboy. "I done told him so twice."

"Go on and dance," Moffatt ordered. "Here, you. Here's your guitar. Take to it. And when a gen'l'man asks you to slow up again, you slow up.

Savez?"

Miss Hawes took his arm, with a soft, prideful sigh, and they moved off.

It was glorious to be the center of all eyes, and she was very proud of him just then. He dominated the a.s.sembly with such disdainful unconcern.

She had seen the Tumbling K boy actually shrink. Realizing quickly the need of smoothing out the situation, Lafe created a diversion. Advancing to the center of the floor, he shouted: "The next'll be a quadrille. Get your partners for a quadrille. Hi, everybody! Step to it."

Thus harmlessly did the incident pa.s.s over. Lafe was famous at calling off a dance and soon Grace found herself wavering in her allegiance. It is true that Moffatt was extremely handsome, but Lafe had a way. He might be too stooped and indolent for grace of movement, but--Johnson's voice came to her over the heads of the whirling crowd, and she forgot to reply to a question from her partner.

"First lady to the right, the right hand gent the right hand round.

Partner by the left as you come round. Lady in the center, all hands round," he yelled, and there was a swirl of skirts and lifting of dust to stamping feet.

"Head lady and opposite gent forward and back," he chanted again.

Give right hand half way round; Back with left, left hand round.

Promenade the corner as you come around.

When the dance ended, it was the conventional thing for a gentleman to abandon the lady where they chanced to find themselves at the moment and go on about his business. Taking advantage of this custom, Lafe descended upon Miss Hawes and bore her off; nor did he once give her up until the stars paled in the sky. Then he a.s.serted his right to take her home.

On the way he fell silent. All his glibness of tongue deserted him abruptly, and Grace was mightily pleased over the symptom.

"What's the matter, Mr. Lafe?" she asked. "Why don't you say a word?"

"I'm studying over something," said Johnson.

After a moment he inquired, without looking at her: "You done give me two Paul Joneses, didn't you?"

"Sure I did. Why? Weren't they enough?"

"Yes. And four waltzes and four two-steps. Ain't that the tally?"

"You've got it right. But what's the matter, Mr. Lafe?"

"And you done let me have the Home Sweet Home waltz, too?"

"Look a-here, Mr. Lafe, what're you driving at?"

Johnson pondered darkly for a full minute. "What'd you give that feller Steve?" he said finally.

"You'd like to know, wouldn't you? Say, you've got your nerve." She tilted her chin upwards and flashed a look at him.

"What did you let that feller have?" he said again.

"I won't tell you: so there. Not near so much as you got, Lafe Johnson.

Now, are you satisfied?"

"Pretty near. Leastways, for a while."

She gave Lafe her hand at parting, and he tried to draw her to him. It was a half-hearted impulse, wholly lacking his customary dash. Grace hesitated, flushed warmly; then, with a tremulous laugh, pushed him back.