"Say, Bud," began Phil, his eyes sparkling with amusement, "I've got something to tell you about that dance last night. If I didn't put the crusher on Mr. Feliz Luna and Manuel del Rey! Wow! I sure wished you were there to see me do it. "This Feliz Luna is the son of an old sugar-planter down in the hot country somewhere. He got run out by the _revoltosos_ and now he's up here trying to make a winning with Gracia Aragon--uniting two noble families, and all that junk. Well, sir, of all the conceited, swelled-up little squirts you ever saw in your life he's the limit, and yet the old man kind of favors him. "But this Manuel del Rey is the captain of the _rurales_ around here and a genuine Mexican fire-eater--all buckskin and fierce _mustachios_, and smells like chili peppers and garlic--and the two of 'em were having it back and forth as to who got the next dance with Gracia. "Well, you know how it is at a Mexican dance--everybody is supposed to be introduced to everybody else--and when I saw those two young turkey-cocks talking with their hands and eyebrows and everybody else backing off, I stepped in close and looked at the girl. "And she's some girl, too, believe me! The biggest brown eyes you ever saw in your life, a complexion like cream, and hair--well, there never was such hair! She was fanning herself real slow, and in the language of the fan that means: 'This don't interest me a bit!' So, just to show her I was wise, I pulled out my handkerchief and dropped it on the floor, and when she saw me she stopped and began to count the ribs in her fan. That was my cue--it meant she wanted to speak with me--so I stepped up and said: "'Excuse me, _señorita_, but while the gentlemen talk--and if the _señora_, your mother, will permit--perhaps we can enjoy a dance?' "And say, Bud, you should have seen the way she rose to it. That girl is a sport, believe me, and the idea of those two _novios_ chewing the rag while she sat out the dance didn't appeal to her at all. So she gave me her hand and away we went, with all the old ladies talking behind their fans and Manuel del Rey blowing up like a volcano in a bunch of _carambas_ or worse. Gee, it was great, and she could dance like a queen. "But here's the interesting part of it--what do you think she asked me, after we'd had our little laugh? Well, you don't need to get so grouchy about it--she asked about you!" "Aw!" "Yes, she did! So you see what you get for throwing her down!" "What did she ask?" "Well, she asked--" here he stopped and laughed--"she asked if you were a cowboy!" "No!" cried Bud, pleased in spite of himself. "What does she know about cowboys?"