There is a short interregnum of silence. This Conchita’s sweetheart endeavours to fill up with a series of gestures that might appear uncouth but for the solemnity of the occasion. So considered, they may be deemed graceful, even dignified.
Perhaps not thinking them so himself, Walt soon seeks relief by turning to his interpreter, and making appeal to him as follows—
“Doggone it, Frank! Ye see I don’t know how to talk to her, so you do the palaverin. Tell her right off, what I want. Say I hain’t got much money, but a pair o’ arems strong enuf to purtect her, thro’ thick an’ thro’ thin, agin the dangers o’ the mountain an’ the puraira, grizzly bars, Injuns, an’ all. She sees this chile hev got a big body; ye kin say to her thet his heart ain’t no great ways out o’ correspondence wi’ his karkidge. Then tell her in the eend, thet his body an’ his hands an’ heart—all air offered to her; an’ if she’ll except ’em they shall be hern, now, evermore, an’ to the death—so help me God!”
As the hunter completes his proposal thus ludicrously, though emphatically pronounced, he brings his huge hand down upon his brawny breast with a slap like the crack of a cricket bat.
Whatever meaning the girl may make out of his words, she can have had no doubt about their earnestness or sincerity, judging by the gestures that accompany them.
Hamersley can scarce restrain his inclination to laugh; but with an effort he subdues it, and faithfully, though not very literally, translates the proposal into Spanish.
When, as Walt supposes, he has finished, the ex-Ranger rises to his feet and stands awaiting the answer, his huge frame trembling like the leaf of an aspen. He continues to shake all the while Conchita’s response is being delivered; though her first words would assure, and set his nerves at rest, could he but understand them. But he knows not his fate, till it has passed through the tedious transference from one language to another—from Spanish to his own native tongue.
“Tell him,” is the response of Conchita, given without sign of insincerity, “tell him that I love him as much as he can me. That I loved him from the first moment of our meeting, and shall love him to the end of my life. In reply to his honourable proposal, say to him yes. I am willing to become his wife.”
When the answer is translated to Walt, he bounds at least three feet into the air, with a shout of triumph such as he might give over the fall of an Indian foe.
Then, advancing towards the girl, he flings his great arms around her, lifts her from the ground as if she were a child’s doll; presses her to his broad, throbbing breast, and imprints a kiss upon her lips—the concussion of which can be heard far beyond the borders of the cottonwood copse.