“There, now, you’ve got in yo’ right mind at last! I wonder you can be so stubborn, Marse Tom. But you always was, even when you was little. I’m going now.” “Look here; tell her that in view of the delay, it is my judgment that she ought to enlarge the accused on his parole.” “Yes, sir, I’ll tell her. Marse Tom?” “Well?” “She can’t get to Soldier Boy, and he stands there all the time, down in the mouth and lonesome; and she says will you shake hands with him and comfort him? Everybody does.” “It’s a curious kind of lonesomeness; but, all right, I will.” XI SEVERAL MONTHS LATER. ANTONIO AND THORNDIKE “THORNDIKE, isn’t that Plug you’re riding an asset of the scrap you and Buffalo Bill had with the late Blake Haskins and his pal a few months back?” “Yes, this is Mongrel—and not a half-bad horse, either.” “I’ve noticed he keeps up his lick first-rate. Say—isn’t it a gaudy morning?” “Right you are!” “Thorndike, it’s Andalusian! and when that’s said, all’s said.” “Andalusian _and_ Oregonian, Antonio! Put it that way, and you have my vote. Being a native up there, I know. You being Andalusian-born—” “Can speak with authority for that patch of paradise? Well, I can. Like the Don! like Sancho! This is the correct Andalusian dawn now—crisp, fresh, dewy, fragrant, pungent—” “‘What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o’er Ceylon’s isle—’ —_git_ up, you old cow! stumbling like that when we’ve just been praising you! out on a scout and can’t live up to the honor any better than that? Antonio, how long have you been out here in the Plains and the Rockies?” “More than thirteen years.” “It’s a long time. Don’t you ever get homesick?” “Not till now.” “Why _now_?—after such a long cure.” “These preparations of the retiring commandant’s have started it up.” “Of course. It’s natural.” “It keeps me thinking about Spain. I know the region where the Seventh’s child’s aunt lives; I know all the lovely country for miles around; I’ll bet I’ve seen her aunt’s villa many a time; I’ll bet I’ve been in it in those pleasant old times when I was a Spanish gentleman.” “They say the child is wild to see Spain.” “It’s so; I know it from what I hear.” “Haven’t you talked with her about it?” “No. I’ve avoided it. I should soon be as wild as she is. That would not be comfortable.” “I wish I was going, Antonio. There’s two things I’d give a lot to see. One’s a railroad.” “She’ll see one when she strikes Missouri.” “The other’s a bull-fight.” “I’ve seen lots of them; I wish I could see another.” “I don’t know anything about it, except in a mixed-up, foggy way, Antonio, but I know enough to know it’s grand sport.”