Wayne shook hands with her heartily. “You’re a very kind lady to get right into our merrymaking,” he said, “though I hope you’ll save a dance for me a little later.”
They all went to see the bride-to-be then. She was hidden away in one of the adobe houses of the settlement near by, receiving congratulations from friends. She was a dark little creature, nicely demure and almost boisterously joyous by turns.
But later Sylvia danced with Wayne, and he thought of a dozen, a score, of young fellows who would wish to meet her. He brought them singly and in groups, and they all asked to dance with her. She was immediately popular. Happiness radiated from her, and she added to the warmth of every heart that came within her influence.
Harboro watched her with wonder. She was like a flame; but he saw her as a sacred flame.
CHAPTER XX
Sylvia was resting. She had not danced to her heart’s content, but she had become weary, and she threw Antonia’s rebozo over her shoulders and leaned back in her seat. For the moment Harboro and Valdez and Wayne were grouped near her, standing. The girl Wayne was to marry the next day had made her formal appearance now and was the centre of attention. She was dancing with one after another, equally gracious toward all.
Then Sylvia heard Valdez and Wayne cry out simultaneously:
“Runyon!”
And then both men hurried away toward the entrance to the stockade.
Sylvia drew her wrap more snugly about her. “Runyon!” she repeated to herself. She closed her eyes as if she were pondering—or recuperating. And she knew that from the beginning she had hoped that Runyon would appear.