The Gringos: A Story Of The Old California Days In 1849Bower, B. M.
General
The Gringos: A Story Of The Old California Days In 1849
Bower, B. M.
California -- Fiction; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction; Western stories
Instinctively, Dade rode around to them, beckoning Manuel to follow; and
placed him between Jerry and Bill; explained that Manuel was to fire the
starting signals, and smiled his thanks when Jerry promptly produced one
of his "twins" and placed it in Manuel's hands.
"P'int her nose in the air, mister, when you turn her loose," he advised
solemnly. "She's loaded fur b'ar!"
"Keep your eyes open," Dade warned Bill Wilson when he turned to ride
back; and Bill nodded understandingly. Bill, for that matter, usually
did keep his eyes open, and to such purpose that nothing escaped them.
Back at the corral, Dade saw Jack waiting upon Surry in the shade of the
adobe wall until the moment came for entering the arena. Near to him,
José calmed his big, black horse and waited also, cold hauteur the
keynote of his whole attitude. Dade waved his hand to them, and they
followed him into the empty rectangle. From the crowd came a rustle as
of a gust of wind through tree-tops; then they were still again, watching
and waiting and listening.
Those for whom they had watched all day at last stood side by side
before them; and the picture they made must have pleased the most
exacting eye that looked down upon them.
For José was all black and silver, from the tasseled, silver cord upon
his embroidered sombrero to the great silver rowels of his spurs. Black
velvet jacket, black velvet breeches with silver braid glistening in
heavy, intricate pattern; black hair, black eyes--and a black frown,
withal, and for good reason, perhaps. For, thinking to win a smile from
her who had sent the glove and the message, José looked towards the
nearest and most comfortable seat, where Teresita sat, smiling and
resplendent, between her mother and Rosa. He had looked, had José, and
had seen her smile; but he saw that it was not at him she smiled, but at
Jack. It is true, the smile may have been merely scornful; but José was
in no mood for nice analysis, and the hurt was keen enough because she
smiled at all, and it made his mood a savage one.
Jack was all white and red save for the saddle, which was black with
silver trimmings; and Surry, milk white from ears to heel, served to
complete the picture satisfyingly. Diego must have put an extra crimp in
mane and tail, for the waves were beautiful to behold; he had surely
polished the hoofs so that they shone; and nature had done the rest,
when she made Surry the proud, gentle, high-stepping animal he was. Jack
wore breeches and jacket of soft, white leather--and none but Bill
Wilson knew what they had cost in time, trouble, and money. A red, silk
sash was knotted about his middle; the flaming, crimson tie fluttered
under his chin; and he was bareheaded, so that his coppery hair lifted
from his untanned forehead in the breeze, and made many a señorita's
pulse quicken admiringly. For Jack, think what you will of him
otherwise, was extremely good to look upon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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