Donald nudged Jack.
"Great, isn't it?" he whispered.
Jack assented by making the Indian sign for "chief," raising the upturned forefinger high above the head and turning it downward.
A few moments later they were speaking with Mrs. Powell.
"Why didn't you get here earlier, so that you could have danced the first quadrille with Bess?" she said to Jack. "She hoped you would ask her."
"Why, Mrs. Powell," he explained, "we were down at the corral feeding and watering and only just got here. Mr. Donald and I both want some dances with Bess."
"She'll be glad to dance," was the response; "but you'll have to wait a while."
The dancers were enjoying themselves greatly. Though the men largely outnumbered the women, there were at first some girls without partners. The novelty of the surroundings struck terror to the hearts of some of the most daring riders and ropers, and kept them glued to their seats. Buck Wilson, Twenty-One Johnson, and Red Casey of the Bar Lazy A, whose feats in broncho busting and roping had made them famous on the range, felt their courage ooze away when it came to facing a girl and asking her to dance. Their bashfulness was added to by the shouts of Jim Decker and other older men, who tried to induce them to pluck up heart and choose partners for the dance.
One by one timid men, who had not yet dared to come into the ballroom, slipped through the door and, apparently trying to make themselves as small as possible, sidled over to seats on the men's side, and sat down to look on.
Most of those who danced did so with real feeling and great spirit. One or two men were extremely expert in cutting pigeonwings, and jumping high in the air; and some of them stamped in time to the music, so that the air was full of dust. Most of the men, however, were extremely quiet. At the end of each dance, the men took the girls to their seats and, leaving them, either retired to their side of the room or slipped out of the door to smoke a cigarette or talk with those who had not yet dared to venture into the room.