Meantime she had her majordomo order a horse saddled for her to ride over to Corbett's for the mail.
CHAPTER X
MR. AINSA DELIVERS A MESSAGE
Back to Davis, who had stopped to tighten his saddle-girth, came Dick Gordon's rather uncertain tenor in rollicking song:
| "Bloomin' idol made o' mud— |
| Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd— |
| Plucky lot she cared for idols when I |
| Kissed 'er where she stud!" |
"There he goes, advertising himself for a target to every greaser in the county. Pity he can't ride along decent, if he's got to ride at all in these hills, where every gulch may be a trap," grumbled the old miner.
He jerked the leather strap down with a final tug, pulled himself to the saddle, and cantered after his friend.
| "Elephints a pilin' teak |
| In the sludgy, squdgy creek, |
| Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you |
| Was 'arf afraid to speak!" |
"No danger of the silence hanging heavy here while you're around trying to be a whole opery troupe all by your lonesome," suggested Davis. "Seems to me if you got to trapse round this here country hunting for that permanent residence, it ain't necessary to disturb the Sabbath calm so on-feelin'. I don't seem to remember hearing any great demand for an encore after the rendering of the first verse."