When he had done Ramon Garcia swept his fingers across the strings in a sort of mournful regret. Then, when there was a sudden clapping of hands, he bowed, smiled and sang again, this time putting the words of his little song, the same song, into English:
"The perfume of roses, of little red roses;
(Thou art a rose, oh, so sweet, corazón!)
The laugh of the water who falls in the fountain;
(Thou art the fountain of love, corazón!)
The brightness of stars, of little stars golden;
(Estrella de mi vida! My little life star!)
The shine of the moon through the magnolia tree;
I am so sad till thou come, mi amor!
Dios! It is sweet to be young and to love!
More sweet than wine … to be young and to love!"
In the clapping of hands which broke out when he had done Ernestine's was to be heard above Kootanie George's grunt of disgust.
"No man talk, that," he snorted, careless of who heard. "Dam' slush."
"Your deal, Koot," laughed Blunt Rand, the American trapper from the headwaters of the Little MacLeod. "Don't let the Mexican gent spoil your play that-away. Deal 'em up, why don't you?"
Kootanie George glared at Rand and gathered in the cards. He understood as did Ernestine and the others at the table the gibe which lay under Rand's words. The American's fancies, too, had run toward Ernestine Dumont not so long ago, and she had not deigned to take notice of him after the coming of Kootanie.
"Mexican gent, huh?" said George slowly. "If you mean Greaser why don't you say Greaser?"
Ramon Garcia had again approached the table. He stopped suddenly as George's snarl came to him, and his white teeth showed for a quick flash under his lifted lip. Then, his eyes smiling darkly, he came on again, bending intimately over Ernestine's chair.
"They are dancing over there," he said softly. "Will you dance with me, señorita?"
George merely looked at them sidewise. Ernestine glanced up sharply and for a moment indecision stood easily readable in her eyes. Then she shook her head.