“He knows enough not to pick no trouble with me.”
“Mr. Carey, somehow I feel that I can talk frankly to you!”
He swelled visibly. His face was red.
“Tag-dance!” bellowed the announcer.
Carrigan was rising to dance again with Dolly Maxwell. The solemn face of Ben Craig drew near. His stare was a promise as she started off with Dave Carey.
With the rehearsal on Maurie Gordon to help, she talked very smoothly now. She reached her great point: “But they cannot bury me in this country. I look upon the stars at night and do not feel alone. And I feel the strength and truth of the men of the desert. Somewhere among them I shall find—”
Here she noted Carrigan standing unemployed at the edge of the hall. He had been tagged quickly, of course, because of pretty Dolly Maxwell. She signaled him with a great appeal in her eyes and before they had taken half a dozen more steps his hand fell on the arm of Carey. As she slipped into the arms of Carrigan, her smile of farewell to Carey was sad and wistful. He stood stock still in the middle of the floor, jolted freely by the passing couples. In his eyes was a melancholy light of the sea-bound traveler who sees the last towers of his home port drop below the horizon.
CHAPTER VII. THE ROPING OF CARRIGAN.
“Carey and Gordon roped, tied, and branded,” said Carrigan. “But don’t forget that powder puff.”
“Carrigan, let me talk. I’ve been passing such a line of fancy lingo that my throat is dusty. I’ve been rememberin’ everything that I ever read in love stories an’ if I can’t be myself for a minute I’ll choke for want of fresh air.”