Once more he essayed playing the old melody, but became hopelessly confused.
"Darn the tune!" he mumbled.
Sage-brush, ever ready to cheer up the failing courage of a performer, chirruped: "Shuffle 'em up ag'in and begin a new deal."
Fresno spat on his hands and ruffled his hair like a musical genius. Again he sought the rhythm among the keys. He tried to whistle the air. That device failed him.
"Will you all whistle that tune? I'm forgettin' it," was his plaintive request.
"Sure, let her go, boys," cried Sage-brush.
Falteringly, with many stops and sudden they tried to accompany Fresno's halting pursuit over the keyboard after the tune that was dodging about in his mind. All at once the player struck his gait and introduced a variation on the bass notes.
"That ain't in it," shouted Show Low indignantly.
"Shut up!" bellowed Sage-brush.
With both hands hammering the keys indiscriminately, Fresno made a noisy if not artistic finish, and whirled about on the stool, to be greeted by hearty applause.