Endicott interrupted her with a nod: "Yes," he observed, dryly, "I believe that is the term——"
"Don't be guilty of a pun, Winthrop. At least, not a slangy one. It's quite unsuited to your style of beauty. But, really, wasn't it all delightful? Did you ever see such riding, and shooting, and lassoing?"
"No. But I have never lived in a country where it is done. I have always understood that cowboys were proficient along those lines, but why shouldn't they be? It's their business——"
"There you go—reducing everything to terms of business! Can't you see the romance of it—what it stands for? The wild free life of the plains, the daily battling with the elements, and the mastery of nerve and skill over blind brute force and fury! I love it! And tonight I'm going to a real cowboy dance."
"Alice!" The word carried a note of grave disapproval. "Surely you were not serious about attending that orgy!"
The girl stared at him in surprise. "Serious! Of course I'm serious! When will I ever get another chance to attend a cowboy dance—and with a real cowboy, too?"
"The whole thing is preposterous! Perfectly absurd! If you are bound to attend that affair I will take you there, and we can look on and——"
"I don't want to look on. I want to dance—to be in it all. It will be an experience I'll never forget."
The man nodded: "And one you may never cease to regret. What do you know of that man? Of his character; of his antecedents? He may be the veriest desperado for all you know."
The girl clapped her hands in mock delight: "Oh, wouldn't that be grand! I hadn't thought of that. To attend a dance with just a plain cowboy doesn't fall to every girl's lot, but one who is a cowboy and a desperado, too!" She rolled her eyes to express the seventh heavendom of delight.