“‘Well, if the young lady is in town, why can’t you have her drop in
and make her own selection?’ suggested the blond milliner. He studied a
moment, and then awoke as if from a trance. ‘Just as easy as not; this
very evening or in the morning. Strange we didn’t think of that sooner.
Yes; the landlady of the hotel can join us, and we can count on your
assistance in selecting the hat.’ With a number of comments on her
attractive place, inquiries regarding trade, and a flattering
compliment on having made such a charming acquaintance, we edged
towards the door. ‘This evening then, or in the morning at the
farthest, you may expect another call, when my friend must pay the
penalty of his folly by settling the bill. Put it on heavy.’ And he
gave her a parting wink.
“Together we bowed ourselves out, and once safe in the street he said:
‘Didn’t she help us out of that easy? If she wasn’t a blonde, I’d go
back and buy her two hats for suggesting it as she did.’
“‘Rather good looking too,’ I remarked.
“‘Oh, well, that’s a matter of taste. I like people with red blood in
them. Now if you was to saw her arm off, it wouldn’t bleed; just a
little white water might ooze out, possibly. The best-looking girl I
ever saw was down in the lower Rio Grande country, and she was milking
a goat. Theodore, my dear fellow, when I’m led blushingly to the altar,
you’ll be proud of my choice. I’m a judge of beauty.’”
It was after midnight when we disposed of the first oven of pigeon
pot-pie, and, wrapping ourselves in blankets, lay down around the fire.
With the first sign of dawn, we were aroused by Mr. Nathan and Uncle
Lance to witness the return flight of the birds to their feeding
grounds. Hurrying to the nearest opening, we saw the immense flight of
pigeons blackening the sky overhead. Stiffened by their night’s rest,
they flew low; but the beauty and immensity of the flight overawed us,
and we stood in mute admiration, no one firing a shot. For fully a
half-hour the flight continued, ending in a few scattering birds.
CHAPTER VI
SPRING OF ’76
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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