"The usual poison," absently answered Show Low.
Sage-brush struck him in the breast with the with the back of his hand. "Shut up," he growled.
Turning to Fresno, he said: "Give us the—er—'The Maiden's Prayer.'"
Fresno whisked about so quickly that he almost lost his balance. Gazing at the petitioner in blank amazement, he shouted: "The what?"
Sage-brush blushed under his tan. In a most apologetic voice he said: "Well, that's the first tune my sister learned to play, an' she played it continuous—which is why I left home."
"I'd sure like to oblige you, but Maiden's Prayers ain't in my repetory," explained the mollified musician.
Fresno raised his finger uncertainly over the keyboard searching for a key from which to make a start. The group watched him expectantly. As he struck a note each member of his audience jumped back in surprise at the sound. Fresno scratched his head and gingerly fingered another key. After several false starts, backing and filling, over the keyboard, he began to pick out with one finger the air "The Suwanee River."
"That's it. Now we're started," he cried exultantly.
His overconfidence led him to strike a false note.
"Excuse me," he apologized. "Got the copper on the wrong chip."