Modest little Margery was hailed with such cheers that you could not have seen her cheeks for the blushes; and, just as the party began to think of forsaking the fascinating camp-fire for bed, Bell jumped up impetuously and cried, ‘Here, Philip, give me the castanets, please. Polly and Jack, you play “Las Palomas” for me, and I’ll sing and show you the dance of that pretty Mexican girl whom I saw at the ball given under the Big Grape Vine. Wait till I take off my hair ribbon. Lend me your scarf, mamma. Now begin!’ LAS PALOMAS. {266a} (THE DOVES.) [Picture: Music score and words for Las Palomas (The Doves)] {266b} It is barely possible, but not likely, that anything prettier than Bell’s Mexican _danza_ was to be seen under the light of the September stars that night; although they were doubtless shining down upon a thousand lovely things. With all the brightness of her loosened hair rising and falling with the motion of her swaying figure—with her twinkling feet, her crimson cheeks and parted lips, she looked the very spirit of the dance, and her enraptured audience only allowed her to stop when she was absolutely breathless. ‘Oh what a beautiful evening!’ exclaimed Elsie, when the celebration was finally over. ‘Was there ever such a dear, dear cañon with such dear people in it! If it only wouldn’t rain and we could live here for ever!’ ‘Rain, rain, stay away! Come again another day, Little Elsie wants to play,’ recited Polly, and then everybody went to their straw beds. CHAPTER XI BREAKING CAMP ‘The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, And drinks and gapes for drink again; The plants suck in the earth and are, With constant drinking, fresh and fair.’ BUT it did rain; and it didn’t wait until they were out of the cañon either. It began long before the proper time, and it by no means confined itself to a shower, but opened the winter season fully a month before there was any need of it, and behaved altogether in a most heartless and inconsiderate manner, like a very spoil-sport of a rain. It began after dark, so as to be just as disagreeable as possible, and under the too slight cover of their tents the campers could hear the rush and the roar of it like the tramping of myriad feet on the leaves. Pancho and the two Chinamen huddled under the broad sycamores in their rubber blankets, and were dry and comfortable; but all the waterproof tents leaked, save Elsie’s.