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Updated: May 19, 2025
Some of the men were uproariously greeting newly-arrived relatives and friends; but there was no one here to greet the Adams party. So the first thing to do was to find the trunk, and then a lodging-place. "What's the proper hotel, Grigsby?" inquired Mr. Adams. "I'll find out." And Mr. Grigsby addressed the nearest citizen a small, gray-shirted man with a beard almost as gray.
Again he turned to the close-packed circle behind him as if mere words were too weak things to do the question justice. And this time as he turned his eyes met squarely those of the gray-shirted figure that was staring straight back at him in a kind of fascination.
"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.
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