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"I reckon Denver brought it from Slauson's. He was ridin' that country yesterday, and as the boys was out of smokin' he come home that way." "I suppose you'll all go?" "I reckon." "And you'll ride?" "I aim to sit in." "At the roping, too?" "No, m'm. I ain't so much with the rope. It takes a Mexican to snake a rope."
His glance wandered toward the house, as it had been doing occasionally since the moment of his arrival. "Y'u bet this dance is ace high, Mac. Fancy costumes and masks. Y'u can rent the costumes over to Slauson's for three per. Texas, he's going to call the dances. Music from Gimlet Butte. Y'u want to get it tucked away in your thinker that this dance ain't on the order of culls.
If you'll excuse me this time " "Is it really forty-three?" He saw that her sudden smile had brought out the dimples in the oval face and that her petulance had been swept away by his astounding information. "Forty-three, sure as shootin', except twict a week when it comes to Slauson's, and that's only twenty miles," he assured her.
"Great the way cows are jumpin', ain't it?" "Sure. Well, I'll be movin' along to Slauson's. I just drapped in on my way. Thought mebbe y'u hadn't heard tell of the dance." "Much obliged. Was it for old man Slauson y'u dug up all them togs, Slim? He'll ce'tainly admire to see y'u in that silk tablecloth y'u got round your neck." Slim's purple deepened again. "Y'u go to grass, Mac.
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