CHAPTER XXV
VAMOSE, EH?
The intermittent popping of the gasoline engine, as it forced water tothe big, unpainted tank near the water-hole, became at first monotonousand finally irritating. Sundown, clad in oil-spotted overalls that didnot by many inches conceal his riding-boots and his Spanish spurs,puttered about the engine until he happened to glance at the distanttank. A silvery rill of water was pouring from the top of the tank.He shut off the engine, wiped his hands, and strode to the house.
He was gone a long time, so long in fact that Chance decided toinvestigate. The dog got up, stretched lazily, and padded to thedoorway. He could hear Sundown muttering and shuffling about in thebedroom. Chance stalked in quietly and stood gazing at his master.Sundown had evidently been taking a bath,--not in the pail of waterthat stood near him, but obviously round and about it. At the momenthe was engaged in tying a knot in the silk bandanna about his neck.Chance became animated. His master was going somewhere! Sundownturned his head, glancing at the dog with a preoccupied eye. The knotadjusted to his satisfaction, he knelt and drew a large box frombeneath the bed. From the box he took an immaculate and exceedinglywide-brimmed Stetson with an exceedingly high crown. He dented thecrown until the hat had that rakish appearance dear to the heart of thecowboy. Then he took the foot-square looking-glass from the wall andstudied the effect at various and more or less unsatisfactory angles.Again he knelt--after depositing the hat on the bed--and emerged with apair of gorgeous leather chaps that glittered with the polished silverof conchas from waist-band to heel. Next he drew on a pair ofelaborate gauntlets embellished with hand-worked silk roses of crimson.Then he glanced at his boots. They were undoubtedly serviceable, butmore or less muddy and stained. That wouldn't do at all! Striding tothe kitchen he poked about and finally unearthed a box of stove-polishthat he had purchased and laid away for future use against that happytime when stove-polish would be doubly appreciated. The metallicluster of his boots was not altogether satisfactory, but it would do."This here bein' chief engineer of a popcorn machine ain't what it'ssaid to be in the perspectus. Gets a fella lookin' greasy and feelin'greasy, but the pay kind of makes up for it. Me first month's wagesblowed in for outside decoratin'--but I reckon the grub'll hold out fora spell."
Then he strode from the house and made his rounds, inspecting the pigs,shooing the chickens to their coop, and finally making a shortpilgrimage to where Gentle Annie was grazing. After he had saddled"Pill," he returned to the house and reappeared with a piece ofwrapping-paper on which he had printed:--
Help yourself to grub--but no fighting on thees premisus.
SUNDOWN, Propriter.
"It's all right trustin' folks," he remarked as he gazed proudly at thesign and still more proudly at the signature. "And I sure hate to putup anything that looks kind of religious, but these days I don't trustnobody but meself, and I sure have a hard time doin' that, knowin' howcrooked I could be if I tried."
He gathered up the reins and mounted Pill. "Come on, Chance!" hecalled. "We don't need any rooster-police to-day. Jimmy's in theretalkin' to his hens, and like as not cussin' because I shet him up.And he sure ought to be glad he ain't goin' on crutches."
He rode out to the mesa and, turning from the trail, took as direct acourse as he could approximate for the home of Chico Miguel, andincidentally Anita. His mission would have been obvious to an utterstranger. He shone and glistened from head to heel--his face with theinner light of anticipation and his boots with the effulgence ofhastily applied stove-polish.
He rode slowly, for he wished to collect himself, that his errand mighthave all the grace of a chance visit and yet not lack the mostessential significance. He did not stop to reason that Anita's fatherand mother were anything but blind.
The day was exceptionally hot. The sun burned steadily on the ripeningbunch-grass. His pony's feet swept aside bright flowers that tiltedtheir faces eagerly like the faces of questioning children. He glancedat his watch. "Got to move along, Pill. Reckon we'll risk havin'somethin' to say when we get there--and not cook her up goin' along.It sure is hot. Huh! That there butte over there looks jest like acity athletic club with muscles all on its front of fellas wrastlin'and throwin' things at themselves. Wisht I had a big lookin'-glass soI could see meself comin'. Gee Gosh, but she's hot!"
He put the horse to a lope, and with the subdued rhythm of the pony'sfeet came Euterpe with a song. Recitation of verse at a lope is apt tobe punctuated according to the physical contour of the ground:--
"In the Pull--man _car_ with turnin' _fans_, The desert _looks_ like a lovely p--_lace_. But crossin' a_lone_ on the _burn_in' sands, She's hell, with a _grin_ on her face."
"Got to slow up to get that right," he said, "or jest stop an' git off.But we ain't got time. 'Oh, down in Arizona there's a . . .' No. Ireckon I won't. I want to sing, but I can't take no risks."
That "the Colonel's lady and Julie O'Grady are sisters under theirskins," is not to be doubted. That Romeo and Sundown are brothers,with the odds slightly in favor of Sundown, is apparent to those whohave been, are, or are willing to be, in love. "Will this plume, thesetrunks and hose, this bonnet please my fair Juliet?" sighs Romeo to hismirror. And "Will these here chaps and me bandanna and me new Stetsonmake a hit with me leetle Anita?" asks Sundown of the mesas.
That the little Anita was pleased, nay, overwhelmed by the arrival ofher gorgeous caballero was more than apparent to the anxious Sundown.She came running to the gate and stood with clasped hands while hebowed for the seventh time and slowly dismounted, giving his leg anunnecessary shake that the full effect of spur and concha might not belost. He felt the high importance of his visit, and Anita alsosurmised that something unusual was about to happen. He strodemagnificently to the house and again doffed his Stetson to theastonished and smiling Senora. Evidently the strange vaquero had metwith fortune. With experienced eye the mother of Anita swiftlyestimated the monetary outlay necessary to possess such an equipment.It was well to be courted, of that she was reminiscently certain. Yetit was also well to be courted by one who bore the earmarks--so tospeak--of prosperity. Sundown was made heartily welcome. After theyhad had dinner,--Chico Miguel would return at night as usual,--Sundownmentally besought his stars to aid him, lend him eloquence and theSenora understanding, and found excuse to follow the Senora to thekitchen where he offered to wipe the dishes. This she would not hearof, but being wise in her generation she dismissed Anita on a trivialerrand and motioned her guest to a seat. What was said is a matter ofinterest only to those immediately concerned. Love is his owninterpreter and labors willingly, yet in this instance his limitationsmust be excused by the result. The Senora and Sundown came to aperfect understanding. The cabellero was welcome to make the state ofhis heart known to Anita. As for her father, she--the Senora--wouldattend to him. And was Sundown fond of the tortillas? He was, beGosh! It was well. They would have tortillas that evening. ChicoMiguel was especially fond of the tortillas. They made him of thepleasant disposition and induced him to tune the big guitar.
The Senora would take her siesta. Possibly her guest would smoke andentertain Anita with news from the Concho and of the Patron Loring andof his own rancho. Anita was not of what you say the kind to do themuch talking, but she had a heart. Of that the Senora had reason to beassured. Had not Anita gone, each day, to the gate and stood gazingdown the road? Surely there was nothing to see save the mesas. Hadshe not begged to be allowed to visit the Loring hacienda not of sovery long time past? And Anita had not been to the Loring hacienda fora year or more. Such things were significant. And the Senora gesturedtoward her own bosom, implying that she of a surety knew from whichquarter the south wind blew.
All of which delighted the already joyous Sundown. He saw before him aflower-bordered pathway to his happiness, and incidentally, as he gazeddown the pathway toward the gate of Chico Miguel's homestead, he sawAnita standing pensively beneath the shade of an acacia, pullin
g aflower to pieces and casting quick glances at the house. "Good-night,Senora,--I mean--er--here's hopin' you have a good sleep. It sure isrefreshin' this hot weather." The Senora nodded and disappeared in thebedroom. Sundown strode jingling down the pathway, a brave figure inhis glittering chaps and tinkling spurs. Anita's eyes were hiddenbeneath her long black lashes. Perhaps she had anticipated somethingof that which followed--perhaps she anticipated even more. In anyevent, Sundown was not a disappointment. He asked her to sit besidehim beneath the acacia. Then he took her hand and squeezed it. "Let'sjest sit here and look out at them there mesas dancin' in the sun; andsay, 'Nita, let's jest say nothin' for a spell. I'm so right downhappy that suthin' hurts me throat."
When Chico Miguel returned in the dusk of evening, humming a song ofthe herd, he was not a little surprised to find that Anita was absent.He questioned the Senora, who smiled as she bustled about the table."Tortillas," she said, and was gratified at the change in ChicoMiguel's expression. Then she explained the presence of the broad newStetson that lay on a chair, adding a gesture toward the gateway. "Itis the tall one and our daughter--he of the grand manner and the sadcountenance. It is possible that a new home will be thought of forAnita." There had been conversations that afternoon with the tallcaballero and understandings. Chico Miguel was to wash himself and puton his black suit. It was an event--and there were tortillas.
Chico Miguel wondered why the hour of eating had been so long past. Towhich the Senora replied that he had just arrived, and, moreover, thatshe had already called to Anita this the third time, yet had had noresponse. Chico Miguel moved toward the doorway, but his wife laid herhand on his arm. "It is that you take the big guitar and play the'Linda Rosa, Adios.' Then, to be sure, they will hear and the supperwill not grow cold."
Grumblingly Chico Miguel took his guitar and struck the opening chordsof the song. Presently up the pathway came two shadowy figures, closetogether and seemingly in no haste. As they entered the house, Sundownapologized for having delayed supper, stating that he had been sointerested in discussing with Anita the "best breed of chickens toraise for eggs," that other things had for the nonce not occupied hisattention. "And we're sure walkin' on music," he added. "Jeststeppin' along on the notes of that there song. I reckon I got to getone of them leetle potato-bug mandolins and learn to tickle its neck.There's nothin' like music--exceptin'"--and he glanced at the blushingAnita--"exceptin' ranchin'."
It was late when Sundown finally departed, He grew anxious as he rodeacross the mesas, wondering if he had not taken advantage, as it were,of Gentle Annie's good nature, and whether or not the chickens werevery hungry. Chance plodded beside him, a vague shadow in thestarlight. The going was more or less rough and Pill dodged manygopher-holes, to the peril of his rider's equilibrium. Yet Sundown wasglad that it was night. There was nothing to divert him from thegolden dreams of the future. He felt that success, as he put it, "washangin' around the door whinin' to be let in." He formulated a creedfor himself and told the stars. "I believe in meself--you bet." Yethe was honest with his soul. "I know more about everything and lessabout anything than anybody--exceptin' po'try and cookin'. But gettin'along ain't jest what you know. It's more like what you do. They'sfellas knows more than I could learn in four thousand eight hundred andseventy-six years, but that don't help 'em get along none. It's whatyou know inside what counts."
He lapsed into silence and slouched in the saddle. Presently henodded, recovered, and nodded again. He would not wittingly have goneto sleep in the saddle, being as yet too unaccustomed to riding torelax to that extent. But sleep had something to say anent the matter.He dozed, clasping the saddle-horn instinctively. Pill plodded alongpatiently. The east grew gray, then rose-pink, then golden. The horselifted its head and quickened pace. Sundown swayed and nodded.
His uneasy slumber was broken by an explosive bark from Chance.Sundown straightened and rubbed his eyes. Before him lay theranch-house, glittering in the sun. Out on the mesa grazed a herd ofsheep and past them another and another. Again he rubbed his eyes.
Then he distinguished several saddle-horses tied to the fencesurrounding the water-hole and there were figures of men walking to andfrom his house, many of them. He set spur to Pill and loped up to thefence. A Mexican with a hard, lined face stepped up to him. "Youvamose!" he said, pointing down the road.
Sundown stared at the men about the yard. Among them he recognizedseveral of Loring's herders, armed and evidently equipped with horses,for they were booted and spurred. He pushed back his hat. "Vamose,eh? I'll be damned if I do."