"Name it, dear boy. If it depends on me, it is granted beforehand," said Kidd, who was becoming accustomed to Dearborn's "little whims."
"I only ask one thing, that there shall be none but men at the board."
"A 'stag party?' But what do you say that for?"
"That's not easy to explain. But the fact is, I haven't come out into the wilderness to hear women squeak, and see them mince about and play all those niminy-piminy lures and graces that city people think are agreeable. I have no wish to say a word contrary to the respect I hold for the young Southern lady in your charge; but, by Jove! I'll confess that I prefer the wolf scaring faggot here to sitting at table over against the fair sex."
"Oh, good," replied the captain, who knew that for every seven young men whom a homicide, debt, loss at gambling, love of wild life, etc., drove into the desert, there were six whose first love affair turned out disastrously; he thought he perceived at last the true cause of the youth's reserved mood and peculiarities. "You'll not be bothered with her, particularly as we are going to talk about her, and could not well do that if she were by, or her Scotch attendant either."
"Attendant?"
"Yes, I've picked out the woman we rescued to be her companion. It cheers her up. She was moping a little."
"Things being so, captain, I am your man."
In five minutes, the captain, Joe, and the Englishman were supping together with hearty appetite. When this was a trifle allayed by the first course, Kidd brought the conversation round upon Doña Rosario, by reason of her having stopped the choice of the short cut.
"Women are always a bother," remarked the young misanthrope with a sneer. "With no intention to offend you, I would not mind betting a trifle that the young lady can ride as well as you or I."