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Where the San Leandro turnpike stretches its dusty, hot, and interminable length along the valley, at a point where the heat and dust have become intolerable, the monotonous expanse of wild oats on either side illimitable, and the distant horizon apparently remoter than ever, it suddenly slips between a stunted thicket or hedge of "scrub oaks," which until that moment had been undistinguishable above the long, misty, quivering level of the grain.
"I would, too, even if her grandfather were here," exclaimed Leandro, with a savage laugh. "Come on, let's be off," he added, turning to Manuel. "I'm sick and tired of these whores." They left the gallery and were soon out of El Corralon. "What was the matter?" asked Manuel. "Nothing. It's all over now," answered Leandro.
The festival was celebrated upon a large vacant lot on Pasion street. Leandro and Manuel entered as the band from the Orphan Asylum was playing a habanera. The lot, aglare with arc-lights, was bedecked with ribbons, gauze and artificial flowers that radiated from a pole in the centre to the boundaries of the enclosure.
Why he's got a town house in San Leandro now. An' he rides around in a four-thousan'-dollar tourin' car. An' just the same his front door yard grows onions clear to the sidewalk. He clears three hundred a year on that patch alone. I know ten acres of land he bought last year, a thousan' an acre they asked'm, an' he never batted an eye. He knew it was worth it, that's all.
Doesn't anybody want to drink with me? My treat." "I'll have one," said a tall, bent fellow with a sickly air, who was called El Pastiri. He arose and came over to Leandro. Leandro ordered more wine and amused himself by laughing loudly when any one lost and in betting against Valencia. Pastiri took advantage of the opportunity to empty one glass after the other.
As if he fancied that nobody was to have a chance of speaking to that pretty girl but himself. As if he thought that he had the ghost of a chance with a woman, if I thought it worth while to cut him out!" grumbled the gallant, gay Leandro to himself.
"You see," said Longley, easily explaining the thing away, "Tom heard of 2000 head of two-year-olds down near Rocky Ford on the Rio Grande that could be had for $8 a head. I reckon 'twas one of old Leandro Garcia's outfits that he had smuggled over, and he wanted to make a quick turn on 'em. Those cattle are worth $15 on the hoof in Kansas City. Tom knew it and I knew it.
"To see if that Valencia continues to put on airs when I'm around." They crossed the wired-off surrounding path. Leandro, taking long strides, was very soon in Las Injurias. Manuel could hardly keep up with him. They entered Blasa's tavern; the same men as on the previous night were playing cane near the stove. Of the women, only La Paloma and La Muerte were in.
Valencia was the first to attack; he bent forward as if to seek out where to strike his opponent; he crouched, aimed at the groin and lunged forward upon Leandro; but seeing that Leandro awaited him calmly without retreating, he rapidly recoiled.
Come!" said the Marchese. And this was said in a manner that had the effect of making Leandro take leave of the ladies, with many hopes that they might meet again ere long.
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