Complete Story. The Lovers of Lolita.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXI, Issue XVII, 24 October 1903, Page 9

Complete Story. The Lovers of Lolita.

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CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY.

Having finished the business of the afternoon sooner than I had anticipated, and having dressed for dinner at the office, I found myself at the hotel where we were stopping while the decorators were in our house, in upper Fifth avenue, a half hour earlier than the time appointed by my wife for dinner. She had arranged to come directly to the grand foyer of the hotel from a reception or afternoon tea. or some other feminine function, and I was to meet her near the entrance of the Fifth avenue diningroom. The passing show was well woith inspection. Indeed, before my wife and I had become quite so used to it, when we were newcomers in New York, we had often gone down there in the evening for the sole purpose of observing the dress parade. It was as good as a theatre—and if you took dinner there not nearly so cheap. The women were all beautifully gowned in the smartest of frocks, and the attendant men were sufficiently submissive to follovg unobtrusively en train; sometimes, the awkward ones, on train! The men never attracted much attention anyway. They were as unconsidered as bridegrooms at weddings. They were monotonously alike in their evening clothes, and the attempt to distinguish them from the occasional waiters who strayed out into the corridor was too severe a mental strain for idleness. On this evening, however, much to my surprise, my interest was excited by a mere man, who sat across the. corridor from me. He was a little man. with white hair, a white moustache and imperial, but with an erect figure and keen blue eyes, which belied the other evidences of age. He looked a little foreign and very lonesome. Nobody spoke to him or noticed him, of course, although he surveyed the passing throng with what seemed to me to be a glanee of expectancy, hope deferred. and appeal. Finally his gaze rested on me. He studied me unobstrusively for a few moments. I was not born in New York, and he seemed to divine that fact, for, after some hesitation, he arose, crossed the hall and nodded toward a vacant chair by my side with a mutely interrogative glance, remarking in a pleasant, if uncultured voice;— “Stranger, may I set down here?” “Certainly,” I replied. “You ain’t a New Yorker, are yon?” “I am not a native of New York,” I said. For that matter I have learned by inquiries that nobody in particular is ever born in New York, although everybody who is anybody comes here in time if he can. “I thought not. You look’ kind o’ sociable, an' as I got tired of playin’ a lone hand over there I thought I might venture. My name is Tillottson, Elijah D. Tillottson.” I mentioned my own. and so the acquaintance began. “You were lonesome, were you’” I asked. "Lonesome! God A’mighiy. I ain’t never seen nuthin' like it! I’ve been alone in a small boat on the sea; I’ve been the only human bein’, as fer as I knew, fer hundreds of miles on the prairie; Tve stood on mountain tops with no companion, as fer as I could see. but that kind o’ lonesomeness ain’t nuthin’ to what I felt right here in this crowd. A man on the train told mo to come here. It was the best and biggest hotel in the town. He said it was a place where a Western man could be at rest and feel at home. There was so many on ’em here. lie said the masses could Ire exclusive here, too; an’, though’ I ain’t seen one Western man that I could pick out unless” (he looked at me) “I plead guilty.” I remarked, “1 was born west of the Mississippi.” “I thought so! Put it there,” he said gleefully, his eyes sparkling as he extended his hand and shook mine vigorously, to the surprise o f the passersby, “You are from Mexico, you eaid I” j

“Yes. but Amerk-an born." “Ob, of course I knew that.” “Yes, we Americans don’t like to be taken fer peone*, you ean be sure o’ that.” “I have some interests in Mexico,” I remarked. “What was your business while there ?” “Railroadin’—contractin’, that is.” "What do you think of the country?” “Finest on earth! There’s more money to be made there than any place I know, an’ easier. I’ve made my little pile an’ am up here to enjoy it, but I doubt not I’ll go back again soon. It sort o’ fascinates you. If I can do anythin’ to help you in your business down there I’d be glad to do it.” “Thank you," I answered, smiling at •the frank proposition, “perhaps I shall avail myself of your offer some day. The Mexican women, I understand, are beautiful?” "They sure are!” returned the other, “but they can’t hold a candle to our girls. The prettiest one I ever seen was Dolores Santivanez, little Lolita — she was a darlin’ sure! She very nearly done me up, though.” “How was that?” I asked, scenting a story at once, and realising that my friend only wanted encouragement to talk on. "Well, sir. twenty years ago I was a good sight younger than I am now. I was fresh from the States when I went down there. My hair wasn’t white an" I wasn’t a bad-lookin’ young fellow, nuther. Bein’ a blonde in them days, I was somethin’ of a contrast to the Mexican lot. an’ I used to have some pretty lively times with the girls. That is as lively a time as a man can have when he has to make love through a grate bar. Y’ou can imagine it is rather coolin’ to a passion till you get used to it. “Well, as to Lolita—l think it was a little more serious in her case than other times. She was the first one, too. Stranger, she was so all-fired pretty an’ she sort o’ played into my hand as it was, that I got myself rather tangled up with her. It was down in Oaxaca. We was building the Oaxaca Railroad, an’ had the right of way from Teotitlan del Camino south. I had one hundred and twelve kilometres to construct with three camps of about two hundred men each on the line. Of course, as superintendent, I had to divide my -time between the three camps an’ keep them al! to work. Each camp was composed of four or five gangs of peones—common labourers, that is. Over each one was a gang boss, mostly not much above the level of the men. Over each camp and gang bosses there’d be a Mexican assistant superintendent. He had a good job, a bully one. fer he got big pay an’ reported only to me. "The brightest gang boss in the camp near Teotitlan, was Chon Villalobos, which his name was Enearfiacion Villalobos. We called him ‘Chon’ for short. Chon was a cut above the ordinary boss, an’ he had ambitions. If his industries had been proportioned to said ambitions he’d have been a great man, but he was a lazy cuss, a shirker, an* generally worthless. I found that out afterward. When I first came an’ took charge, the former chief havin' been knocked out by the Yellow Jack, he was a-raisin’ Cain, an’ it looked like as if he was makin’ things hum. “Well. I told you ray name was Elijah D. The ‘D’ stands for Draco. He was some sort of a foreign gent—a lawyer, I take it —an’ Elijah was a scriptural cuss. I never took muc-h stock in lawyers, an' me an' the Scriptures, I regrets to say, ain’t got no niore’n a bowin’ acquaintance. Therefore, both them names seemed awful inappropriate -to me. an’ they’re all-fired ugly in the bargain, so I never told nobody what my real name was. Secin’ my initials they got to callin’ me Ed, an’ I’nt known down there to this day as ‘Ed.’ an’ even sign my cheques that way down there, which it's rather confusin’ when I git up here. “One mornin' I was busy in the tent foolin’ over my accounts, when 1 was

knocked silly by a most tremendous disaharge of fireworks, guns, skyrockets an’ •hootin’ crackers. 1 rushed out thinkin’ there must be a mutiny or somethin’, an’ there was all the men of the camp gathered around my tent. The assistant superintendent by this time was almost done fer an’ in bed or they’d never have been allowed to quit work fer a minute even. They was a-shoutin’ an* blazin’ away, an' raising hell generally, an’ when I come out they busted into cheers an’ yells as if they’d gone mad. " ‘What the devil does this racket mean?' I shouted in Spanish. “ ‘lt is the name day of our chief,’ answered a good-looking young .fellow, steppin’ forth an’ bowin’ with all the grace that even the commonest Mexican has.

“ ‘What day is it ?’ I asked. " ‘lt is the Saint’s Day of the Chief,’ answered that good-looking young fellow—l learned afterward that his name Was Enoarnaciau Villalobos, Chon, you know—bowin’ again. " Tve got no Saint’s Day,’ I answered. ‘l’m a Protestant.’

" ‘Still you have a name, senor, an’ as thia is your name day we have come here to do you honour,’ at which there was another outbreak of cheers and yells. "‘What day is it, in God’s name?’ I shputed. “ ‘The day of San Eduardo el Rey Confesor.’

“ ‘An’ I’m a republican, too,’ I said, as it dawned on me that they were celebratin’ as my name day October 13, the feast of King Edward the Confessor, which I told you my name is Elijah. “ It’s all right,’ said Chon, ‘we joy with you.’ " ‘Well,’ I replied, ‘suppose you cut out this celebratin’ an’ exercise your energy, of which you seem to have an unusual lot, in gettin’ the dirt Into that fill over yonder. When I want a celebration of my name day I’ll let you know.’ ”

"Were you not rather ungracious?” I remarked.

"No. You might think so from your point of view, but if you want the respect of them peones you’ve got to keep ’em down. If I hadn’t put up a stiff front they’d have knocked off work for the day an’ the road would have suffered. Before they went back, however, the spokesman ventured upon somethin’ further.

“ ‘We’re goin’ to have a party,’ he eaid, ‘at the house of my father’s compadre to-night.’ "A man’s ‘eompadre.’ you know, is a fpdfather to his child. I’m eompadre o about a thousand Mexicans, fer I’ve stood godfather to as many children. It never seemed to make any difference to them that I was a heretic from their point of view. “ ‘lf the Chief,’ he continued, ‘would honour us ’

"I was mighty fond of a pretty face In them days, as I am even now, fer all my white hair, so I said I’d go. Well, after the day’s work was done I rode with him to Teotitlan. I wouldn’t have gone with a common peon, but T could seen that he was better. I forgot to tell you that there was a number of little presents given me durin’ the mornin’, among them a beautiful bouquet of gardenias. Say, if you ain’t

never seen the Mexican gardenias you don’t know what a flower is an’ what perfume is nuther. They come, so Chon told me, from his cousin, Senorita Dolores Santivanez. He put in a clever word or two about her. an’ it was was considerable curiosity 1 looked forward to meetin’ the young lady- Chon told me as we rode down the trail that he was very anxious to be a camp boss. That he was engaged to a girl who promised to look favourably upon his courtin’ when he showed himself a man an’ got a job about the common peon. He didn’t tell me who this girl was, or what she was, an’ I didn’t care much. I wasn’t in a condition to give the world much thought anyway after I had seen Dolores“Madre de Dios! Stranger, she was a beaut, and no mistake! Her hair was as black as a raven’s wing, an’ she had eyes to match, only soft an' languishin’ —an’ how she could use ’em! The colour flamed in her olive cheek—her skin had a sort of copper tint on account of an ancestor not very far back who belonged to the nobility of the country if native Mexicans, aborigines, you know, Toltecs, I think, an’ all that sort of thing- I’ll bet the feller would have belonger to the nobility of the country if he had lived in Cortez’s time.” "I fell head over heels in love with that girl at the start, an’ she didn’t seem in no wise unwillin’ to reciprocate. Such languishin” glances as she cast at me! By Jacks, I can remember ’em now! ’Taint in the power of men to forgit ’em. Introduced by Chon, who seemed to be a person of some consideration thereabouts, my footin’ was secure, an’ as I was the biggest gun fer miles around, no one interfered between me an’ Lolita. Chon, as I said, was her cousin, an’ he sort o’ steered the rest of the men away. We had things pretty much to ourselves. We danced the danza together, an’ the jarabe, a sort of Virginia reel, ’ceptin’ you mark the time with a pleasant clatterin’ of your feet. Great gosh, what a foot that girl had! Stranger, I reckon you could put them both in one hand an’ hardly fill it nuther. She had on low shoes an’ searlet stockin’s an’ wore a short skirt that left a few inches of the ankle in sight. Her dress was scarlet, too, as I remember, an’ she wore a neeklaee made of one hundred American gold pieces. That’s about the finest thing a Mexican of that class can wear. It’s a sort of testimony to aristocracy an’ respectability an’ so on. She had a Madonna face, too, a long oval, you know, an’ a pointed chin- She looked like one of — what’s that feller’s name ?—Raphael’s pictures- Her hair was parted in the middle like that French female that we used to see in pictures—de Merode, I think that’s what they call her; yes, sure.

“Well, it was a red hot ease with me. I was tabasco sauce in love affairs in them days an’ she mixed it up with me all right. 'When we didn’t dance we set in one of the little alcoves, which is the only privacy you can get with a respectable Mexican girl, an’ made love to each other. We didn’t speak much about anythin’ but ourselves until just before I went away, when Lolita had got fer enough to put in a word fer her cousin Chon, who she said was a noble feller, far above his station, an’ was fit fer

somethin’ better’n a gang boss. She begged me to help him fer her sake. I promised, of course. “I was just crazy in love with that girl. Every minute I could spare from business, an’ some I hadn’t oughter took, especially in the afternoons, I’d take a pasear down to her father’s casa. I tried visitin’ her in the American way, but that didn’t work. States customs don’t go in old Mexico. The old lady told me if I wanted to address her daughter I’d have to stay outside, as they do in that country. You know down there the girl stays in the house, only she comes to the winder, which is covered with big iron bars, an’ the lover stays outside. They can be as private as they want to, ’eeptin’, of course, anybody passin’ can see the courtin’; but it grows mighty dark down there, an’ the girl takes care there’s no one in the room, an’ the man takes eare there’s no one outside.” “I should think the bars w-ould be rather difficult to make love through.” “Not a bit of it! It’s rather romantic when it ain’t rainin’. You can get your hands through, an’ if the lady is willin’— well, you can do considerable billin’ an’ cooin’ all right.” “You know from experience, I suppose ?” “Well, I should say so!” “And was Miss Dolores willing?” “Willin’? She was more than willin’; she was anxious! We got along most famous. I was head over heels in love with that girl, as I told you, an’ she was with me. I spouted poetry, an’ flowers, an’ sentiment, and such like. I had ’em on tap them days, an’ she returned it. But she most generally had somethin’ to say about that Chon. I did’t like it much, but I promoted that feller when the boss died. He ought to have been happy, but he wasn’t. It kind o’ dawned on me that he didn’t altogether approve

of my love affair with Lolita. I began to suspicion that he loved her himself, an* once 1 caught him under her winder. I was goin’ to raise Cain about it, but she smoothed me over an’ I let it pass,but sort of kept a watch on him. One Saturday afternoon I discovered that he waa tryin’ to swindle the firm. There’d been a Saint’s Day that week, an’ the gang hadn’t worked that day. He turned in work tickets for the whole week, an’ the paymaster was about to cash ’em when I interfered. I was so mad, after the way I had used him, when I found out the fraud, that I just told some of the boys to tie him to a tree outside an’ leave him to reflect on his ways.” “That was rather severe, wasn’t it?” “No, it wasn’t. You’ve got to traat them peones that way. They mistake kindness for weakness. I had a boy once, a servant to wait on me, my personal attendant, you know, an’ he was so good, fer so little money, too, that one day in a streak of generosity I took him into town an’ togged him out in a new rig, hat, suit of clothes —everything. By Jinks! that night he stole my valise an’ all my jewellery an’ money, an’ lit out! He was evidently goin’ to turn over a new leaf, take a fresh start an’ live up to his clothes. You can’t treat ’em kindly. I once had a friend named Hennessey, an’ was passin’ a little house outside a village when we heard a fearful ruction. A woman ecreamed an’ a man was yellin’ like mad an’ cursin’ most awful. I was some ahead of Hennessey an’ saw the woman pull a whole handful of whisker out of that feller’s chin. Now, you know, that’d make any man mad, even the most peaceable kind, an’ he grabbed up a barrel stave an’ was a wallopin’ that female right good, and she certainly deserved it. “ ‘My God!’ sez Hennessey, ‘man,

would you beat a woman V He was a chivalrous man, was Hennessey. “Not knowin’ the provocation, not havin’ seen the whole performance, he rushed between ’em an’ bowled the man over with his fist. He was a handy man with his fist, was Hennessey, an’ before I could interfere, what do you suppose that peon woman done? She picked up a quemal, which is a heavy earthen dish about a yard in diameter, concave in the centre, in which they bake tortillas. It was an old dish an’ a little rotten, an’ when she struck Hennessey over the head it just settled down on his neck like a collar. He had a hard head, that Hennessey, an’ he bust right through the middle of it, you know, an’ while it hung there he turned it. Hennessey had a long neck, an’ after he had turned that dish he couldn’t get it off. The man got up an’ went for poor Hennessey with the barrel stave, an’ that woman, who was dancin’ around yellin’ like mad, -worse than before, was cryin - ’Kill him! Kill him!’ “I don’t know what poor Hennessey would have done, for he was as helpless as a child, if I hadn’t interfered. I led him away from that billin’ an’ cooin’ couple an’ went up the road a ways until I could get hold of a stone to break that earthen collar around the poor man’s neck. “ ‘Hennessey,’ said I, ‘you ought to meet Queen Elizabeth now.’ “ ‘What fer?’ he returned, mad like, an’ cursin’ freely. “ ‘Because you’ve got a ruff on your neck like Walter Raleigh.’ “ ‘ Yes,’ groaned the man, ‘an’ it feels rougher than it looks.’ “I tell you, chivalry don’t go in Mexico. But where was I?” “You left Mr Chon tied to a tree.” “You’re Tighter than you know, stranger. That’s just what I done. I clean forgot that hound. I went away to see Lolita an r left him tied up there, gnashin’ his teeth at his men standin’ around makin’ casual remarks not very pleasant for him to hear. They would have profited by his fraud, but were too Spanish not to enjoy his punishment. He was foamin’ at the mouth, they told me afterward, an’ would have liked to pull down that tree if he could. I just mentioned careless like to Dolores when I was leavin’ that even’ what I’d done. By Jacks! she turned on me like a tigress, stampin’ her foot on the patio inside, an’ screamed that she’d never speak to me again if I didn’t instantly release Chon. I promised her, of course. I was beginnin’ to get a little jealous of that feller, but I went back to eamp an’ turned him loose, an’ he moseyed off somewhere an’ got full of tequila an’ aguardiente, an’ sich stuff, an’ came right back with blood in his eye an’ fire in his breast. You know it takes about a dozen drinks to get a Mexican up to the point where he dare attack an American.”

“It was evenin’, bright moonlight, aif I was standin’ outside in front of my tent when Master Chon, seemin’ to drop from the clouds, suddenly appeared in front of me. Such cursin' I never heard before, an’ before I realised what was up he began to peel his linen” “Peel his linen?” I asked interrogative-

“Yes, shuck his rags, you know. He wasn’t wearin’ nuthin’ much but a cotton shirt and a pair of cotton trousers rolled up above the knees. You see he was fixed for a fight. When I first looked at him he didn’t seem to have a weepin’, an’ where he got the thing I never knew, but suddenly he made at me with a big machete. I’ve got it at home now. He sprang toward me, drew back his arm, an’ made one terrific sweep in my direction. The machete silvered in the moonlight an’ eame toward me like a flash of lightnin*. I jumped baek as if I’d been shot out of a cannon, reachin’ fer my gun at the same time. We was so close together that the point of the big knife cut through every stitch of clothes an’ made a deep gash across fey breast, I’ve got the scar yet. Before he could do it again I had my gun out. I cocked it as I drew it. They didn’t have double action weepms in them days. I didn’t want to kill him, though I was mad enough to, so I struck him over the head this way, you know,” dropping his hand, “but in the excitement the gun went off, an’ Chon fell to. the ground, the blood streamin’ all over his face, makin’ him a horrible lookin’spectacle in the moonlight. “Gosh, I was sorry. I thought I’d ■lowed what passed fer his brains clean •ut. It meant somethin’ like to me. In

the first place, when a man kills one of them rascally peones or anyone down in Mexico, he is put in jail immejitly, not givin* him no chance to explain, an’ they keep him there until he gets a trial, which it’s sometimes years before that happens. The only thing fer me to do was to light out. I determined to do that at once. But I wasn’t goin’ alone. Dolores had told me a thousand times she loved me better than anybody an* anythin’, so I left word with my servant to saddle my horse, also to pick out another one an’ put a woman’s saddle on it, an’ fetch them both after me, quick. Then I rushed down to her house. The casa was on the edge of tlie village, an’ I’d ordered the man to lead the horses under the acacia trees to a spot I knew, which was some little outside the gate, and wasn’t apt to be seen at that time of night. “I made the usual signal under her winder, an’ Lolita, who’d evidently been waitin’, immejitly presented herself. “ ‘Have you released him, Don Eduardo?’ she whispered. “I can remember now how she looked that night, her eyes shinin’ like stars out of the darkness, standin’ at the winder, an’ I stood outside lovin’ her like a blanked fool. “ ‘W here is he ?’ she asked. “ ‘I believe I’ve killed him.’ “‘Jesus Maria!’ exclaimed the girl, in a low, tense whisper. “‘Y es, I turned him loose. I done as you said. Then he went off an’ filled himself with pulque an’ come at me with a machete. Look!’ I showed her my bloodstained shirt front. ‘He nearly done mo U P> but I got him in time with my gun.’ “ ‘You have killed him, you say?’ “ ‘I believe so.’ “ ‘And you are not seriously hurt, mi Eduardo ?’ ( “‘I believe not,’ I answered fatuously, but I v e got to get out of this place, you know, an’ I don’t want to go alone on a iong journey. You’ve told me a thousand times you loved me more than anything else. Come with me now. We’ll go to a priest first an’ then pull out, our freight fer the States.’ The girl had turned from the winder as I spoke. I could see her but dimly. She seemed to be fumbling at the bosom of her dress, an’ I noticed that one little white hand elapsed the bars of her winder as hard as if it had been steel. She spoke with a voice that was choked with some kind of emotion—l thought it was love for me. “‘The porter at the gate?’ I ean attend to him. A few pesos will fix him. My man has two horses. Hark! They are here now. Come!’ ‘“lmmejitly, Eduardo,’ she answered quietly, “I’ll meet you at the gate.’ “I fixed the porter all right. Them peones would sell their souls, if they had any, for a peso, an’ in a minute Dolores, wrapped in her rebosa, appeared. She had somethin’ in her right hand which she kept covered in the folds of the scarf. “ ‘The horses are ready under the trees. We must hurry,’ I exclaimed, seizin her left hand an’ drawin’ her somewhat roughly across the road an’ into the sb ado tv. ‘“Do I understand you aright, mi querido Lalo?’—the nickname for Eduardo as Lolita is for Dolores, you know —she panted, as we stopped near the horses, ‘you killed’ “ ‘I »» sony to say that I have.’ Senor’ cried my servant, as he made us out in the gloom, but before he could add another word Dolores cried shrill:— You shall indeed go on a journey tonight. But not with me!” “She flung back her rebosa an’ a stray shaft of moonlight come down through the leaves an’ flashed on a cuchillo, a dagger. I had my arms open to take « tO my heart fer the first t!me - “ ‘You will go with Chon,’ she screamed, springin’ at me like a tigress an’ strikin’ me a fierce blow with her knife. “It sounds like a novel, pardner, but I had a heavy purse faced with silver in my breast pocket. The point of that dagger hit the book, an’ although the force with which she struck me made a deep bruise in my flesh, I found out afterward the weepin glanced an’ the thrust spent itself between my breast an’ armpit, both of which it cut. The servant screamed, dropped the horses’ brindle reins an’ fled. I reeled backward from the force of the blow an’ would have fallen had it not been fer a friendly tree. “ ‘Are you done fer ?’ the girl cried. ‘No, you live I* ~

“She sprang at me again. In my dazed condition I suppose she would have finished me had not somethin’ interfered. A pale, blood stained figure, knife in hand, came bustlin’ through t he trees. “‘Dolores!’ cried a voice. ‘“Madre de Dios! Chon!’ screamed the girl, dropping her weepiu an’ einkin* to her knees. ‘ls it a spirit?’ “ ‘"Tis I, Chon. He didn’t kill me. Now it’s my turn. This is no woman’s work.’ “He raised the machete again, but them few seconds of time saved me. I had my gun out now an’ covered him. He stopped, irresolute. “‘You Mexican hound!’ I hissed, ‘there is just one thing that saves your life, an’ that’s yonder woman. She's fooled me to the top of her bent, but I shan’t forget them kisses she gimme.’ “I could see him writhin’ at that. They’re a jealous lot, them Mexicans, an’ that was some little revenge fer me. Lolita had sure played the lovemakin’ game to the limit. “ ‘She’s played with me,’ I went on, ‘an’ I’ve been a fool, but I’ll get even. I give her to you! You’re a fine pair; you’ll make it lively fer each other. Now, drop that machete on that dagger! Take the woman an’ light out.’ “ ‘I must go home,’ said Dolores. “ ‘You can't.’ I answered grimly. ‘The porter’s shut the gate an’ your father’d kill you if he saw you now. Tell me what you did this fer?’ “ ‘Fer Chon. Think you I could love you—a gringo sin verguenza—when he is by?’ “ ‘No, I suppose not,’ I answered. ‘Well, you’ve got him an’ he’s got you. an’ the devil git the both of you. If I ketch you around here again, Chon, I’ll kill you on sight.’ “‘May I have the machete, Jefe?’ said the man, with astonishin’ acquiescence in the situation. “ ‘No, you may not, nor the dagger nuther. I want to keep ’em as souvenirs of this tropic love story. Skip, now!’” “Did they go?”

“Caramba! I guess they did! They left lookin’ into a six-shooter with me behind it, filled with jealousy an’ rage an’ humiliation. I could a killed ’em both, I was that mad. I never saw ’em again. That was a tough experience, the worst I e”er had. with that kind of a female, although I’ve loved many of ’em, but gimme the American girls every time! ”

“1 have only loved one,” I replied, “and here she comes,” for my wife at that moment entered the hall.

‘•You’re a married man, then?” commented the man, smiling. “These one only lovers usually are.” “I am.” “An’ is that your wife?” “Yes. Come over and I will introduce you.” “Pardner,” said my new acquaintance impressively, as we rose to meet the approaching goddess, “from that sample ycuder I takes it that you agrees with me that there ain’t nuthin’ like the American female on God’s earth.” I agreed.