“Dennis! Dennis! The broncho! The—bronch—is—gone!”
CHAPTER XIX
HAPPENINGS BY THE WAY
Presentation civilities were cut short. Dennis wheeled round, then became motionless. For a moment he had left his new horse to its own self, carelessly dropping the bridle, as he slipped off its back—a fact none observed save the broncho himself. He did; and when a fitting moment arrived he flung up his heels and was off, over the plain.
For poor Dennis it was a swift and bitter descent from the height of joy to the depth of woe. His grief was almost tragic, and Mr. Burnham had to look away from the face under the sombrero, it was so wholly Irish and un-Mexican.
“Me horse! Me horse! Och! But I’m undone. Sure, ’tis not I can walk all the way to them mountains beyant. Me horse! Me horse!”
“Dennis dear, you shall have the burro back. Don’t you worry about walking. Though I’m sorry the broncho ran away,” said Carlota soothingly, and slipped from “Connemara” before the other could prevent.
“Burro—be bothered!”
“Why—Dennis!”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, me dear; but after all the money I’ve spent on the beast. Ochone! Arrah musha, the day!”
The trackman was grievously disappointed. Of what use his fine attire if he must return to walking the rails? As for going to the mines, unmounted, he would never do that; and he would travel barefoot anywhere rather than take the gift he had made.