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Riding up to the house, a small adobe, with one room, and a shed for a kitchen, the ranchero and the ranchera came out and greeted us with a hearty "Buenas tardes, Senores, paisanos amigos," shaking hands, and inviting us at the same time to alight and remain for the night, which invitation we accepted. The kind-hearted ranchera immediately set about preparing supper for us.
"Buenos tardes, señorita," he gave her with a flash of white teeth. "Buenos," she nodded coolly. But the dancing eyes of her could not deny their pleasure at sight of him. They had rested upon men as handsome, but upon none who stirred her blood so much. He was in the leather chaps of a cowpuncher, gray-shirted, and a polka dot kerchief circled the brown throat.
I shook him off and, marching in with martial stride and a haughty carelessness of attitude, sat down in the only chair in the room except that occupied by the commander, with a hearty: "Buenas tardes, colonel." He was a typical guatemalteco in whole trousers and an open shirt, but of some education, for he was writing with moderate rapidity at his homemade desk. He also wore shoes.
The officer, white with rage in which hearty fear was mingled, obeyed with alacrity, pulling out a gold coin and handing it, with an oath, to the peon whose hat he had ruined. "Muchas gracias," murmured Kid Wolf, reholstering his gun. "And now, if the fun's ovah, I must bid yo' buenas tardes. Adios!"
The new-comers whose arrival created some sensation on entering the presidency, directed their steps towards one of the houses of the village, at the door of which sat a man, who was soothing his leisure hours by playing upon the guitar. One of the cavaliers, addressing him, said "Santas tardes! my master; will you afford hospitality to two strangers for a day and a night?"
Billie knew that irregular rattling hum, and insensibly quickened her pace. Then as the car drew close behind her she slowed, a peculiar light glinting in her eyes. "Buenas tardes, Señorita Billie!" A merry, mocking voice called, and she wheeled about.
McKinstra was on sentry duty, but she got by him unobserved and startled Farnum into drawing his gun. Yet all she said was: "Buenos tardes, señor." The woman was a wrinkled Mexican with a close-shut, bitter mouth and bright, snappy eyes. Farnum stared at her in surprise. "Who in Arizona are you?"
Dick's enthusiasm was contagious, and his earnest desire to learn was flattering to his teachers. When it came to assimilating Spanish, however, he did not appear to be so apt a pupil. He managed, after many trials, to acquire "buenos dias" and "buenos tardes," and "senorita" and "gracias," and a few other short terms.
Conducted as if by wires along the heavy air comes a guitar's tinkle, and the demoralizing voice of some senorita singing: "En las tardes sombrillos del invierro En el prado a Marar me reclino Y maldigo mi fausto destino Una vida la mas infeliz." The words of it they do not understand neither Toledo nor Memphis, but words are the least important things in life.
He watched this one's approach warily, and when the fellow pulled up with a glistening smile and a polite "Buenas tardes," Stratton responded with some curtness. "Fine day, señor," remarked the stranger pleasantly. "You've said it," returned Buck drily. "We haven't had rain in as much as three weeks." "Tha's right," agreed the other.
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