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Updated: May 22, 2025
The kind-hearted girl readjusted the seats, placed the head of Rosita on her lap, spread her reboso over her to keep off the evening dew, and then told the peon to move on. The latter uttered a loud "ho-ha!" touched his oxen with the goad, and once more set them in motion along the dusty road.
From the bands ahead came shouts and outcries, the sounds of rude merriment; and above all the long-drawn intonation so familiar to those who have been much with Indian horsemen, the endlessly repeated "ho-ha, ho-ha, ho-ha," a kind of crude riding-song. After a while Cecil said, "I have told you the story of my life, will you not tell me the story of yours?"
Here a band of Indians were cooking, feasting, laughing, shouting around a huge sturgeon captured the night before. There a circle of gamblers were playing "hand," passing a small stick secretly from hand to hand and guessing whose hand contained it, singing as they played that monotonous "ho-ha, ho-ha, ho-ha," which was the inseparable accompaniment of dancing, gambling, and horseback riding.
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