"O. K. with me—how about you, Pearl?" asked Evelyn.
"Whatever you all say is right with me."
"I've fallen for a new boy friend. I don't know what his name is, but they call him Dusty, and is he good looking, and can he fight? But—he's another one of those that haven't got a dime, but still, I sure can have a swell time with him. I'll call him right now, and see if he can get the rest of the boys," enthused Mickey.
"I've never heard you rave over a guy before, unless he had something you wanted," said Evelyn.
"Well—," said Mickey, slowly, "I guess he's got something I want."
"Excuse me for living," said Evelyn, as she climbed out of bed, gathering up the money that she had been counting, "I don't know what he has got, but whatever it is, he has as good as lost it right now."
Mickey went to the phone, calling several numbers before she finally got Dusty, who from the trend of the conservation over the phone, was glad to get the other fellows for the party, much to the joy of Mickey.
Evening came, they usually do, even in El Paso, and this evening was very little different from any of the others. The party started at Mickey's wild, mad, hilarious, drinking, loving, laughing, fighting and all the more thrilling to all concerned, because of its being on the American side. All who were invited, came, and brought others that weren't invited, as well as their friends also, but no one cared—it was for a good time that the party was given and everybody proceeded to make the most of the chance.
Twenty-four hours later the party was still going strong. The hilarity had grown in volume, instead of subsiding—the party was going too strong to stay in the bounds of the house—people were wanting to go places, and still keep the party going.
"I got an idea," said Pearl.