“You have come? Good!” he said, and drew Mauville aside. They conversed in low tones, occasionally glancing about them at the others.
In the hall below the rhythm of a waltz now made itself heard, and the land baron, having received certain papers which committed him to a hazardous service, prepared to leave.
“Here’s luck!” said a man on his left, raising his glass. At these words several of the company turned.
“Send it south!” roared a Texan Furioso, emptying his tumbler.
“Send it south!” echoed the others, and “south” the fragrant juleps were “sent,” as the land baron unceremoniously tore himself away from the group.
“They say the floods are rising,” said the man with whom Mauville had conferred, at the door.
“All the better if the river’s running wild!” answered the other. “It will be easier running the guard.”
“Yes,” returned the Mexican, extending his hand, with a smile; “in this case, there’s safety in danger!”
“That’s reassuring!” replied the land baron, lightly, as he descended the stairs.