Aside from a slight grayness about the eyes, Lafe gave no evidence of fatigue. His wife and young son were asleep in Mrs. Horne's bed. On the floor in the same bedchamber were seven other women, resting from their exertions. No special hours for repose had been set aside. All day and all night the dance went on, never ceasing, and there were always couples ready. Each guest lay down for a nap when he felt his system required it, and he lay where his notion of comfort dictated. It was not surprising then that one tripped over men stretched out under blankets on the veranda; the yard was cumbered with them, too. The lady guests were provided for in the five bedrooms of the house. As for the children, of whom there were a dozen or more, now grown fretful from overexcitement, they played in the yard, or down in the corrals with some Shetland ponies Horne had imported. Only at meal times did they give their mothers any concern. And the orchestra still held out, having been thrice relieved that he might take naps. Mrs. Paint Davis fed beer out of a bottle to her yearling son. The child's eyes grew heavy from it. A prudish person ventured to protest to the father. "Pshaw, no," said Paint. "You can't make that boy drunk. It'll learn him to leave it alone when he's growed." Jerry Sellers took Mordecai Bass to the saddle-shed to give him a drink. Mordecai said something that Sellers did not like. A reluctant rebuke was followed up by a sharp word. Ensued a furious outburst from Jerry, a pacific remonstrance from Bass, then blows. Lafe Johnson happened to emerge from the house to clear the dust from his lungs, and heard the altercation. He arrived in time to separate the two, and so successful were his labors as a peacemaker that they shook hands before parting. "It's all along of Florence Steel," Jerry explained to his chief. "Mordecai, he thinks I'm trying to set to her. Just because I had four dances--yes, and a li'l something I done remarked, pleasant like." On Lafe's return to the ballroom, he saw Florence waltzing with the half-breed Baptismo. Baptismo was showing his white teeth, and he whispered when he perceived Johnson. He was a strikingly handsome man and possessed a peculiar fascination for women. Men disliked him and Lafe's pride of blood was such that he usually ignored Baptismo. Had it been his dance, the half-breed would not have been there, but Horne had bidden him from policy. An hour afterwards Lafe chanced to descry Jerry going to the spring for a bucket of fresh water to hang beside the keg. Sellers sang as he walked, swinging the bucket. Oh, bury me not on the lone prairee, Where the wild ki-yotes will howl o'er me-- Lafe could hear him clearly where he leaned against the jamb of the door. He smiled over the doleful song of the night guard, which never occurred to Jerry unless he were feeling cheerful. Where the rattlesnakes hiss and the wind blows free--