e in, come in, Pres."

There was a shout of welcome from the others. A spirit of effusive
cordiality had begun to dominate the gathering. Annixter caught sight of
Vanamee back of Presley, and waiving for the moment the distinction of
employer and employee, insisted that both the friends should come in.

"Any friend of Pres is my friend," he declared.

But when the two had entered and had exchanged greetings, Presley drew
Annixter aside.

"Vanamee and I have just come from Bonneville," he explained. "We saw
Delaney there. He's got the buckskin, and he's full of bad whiskey and
dago-red. You should see him; he's wearing all his cow-punching outfit,
hair trousers, sombrero, spurs and all the rest of it, and he has
strapped himself to a big revolver. He says he wasn't invited to your
barn dance but that he's coming over to shoot up the place. He says you
promised to show him off Quien Sabe at the toe of your boot and that
he's going to give you the chance to-night!" "Ah," commented Annixter,
nodding his head, "he is, is he?"

Presley was disappointed. Knowing Annixter's irascibility, he had
expected to produce a more dramatic effect. He began to explain the
danger of the business. Delaney had once knifed a greaser in the
Panamint country. He was known as a "bad" man. But Annixter refused to
be drawn.

"All right," he said, "that's all right. Don't tell anybody else. You
might scare the girls off. Get in and drink."

Outside the dancing was by this time in full swing. The orchestra
was playing a polka. Young Vacca, now at his fiftieth wax candle, had
brought the floor to the slippery surface of glass. The druggist was
dancing with one of the Spanish-Mexican girls with the solemnity of an
automaton, turning about and about, always in the same direction, his
eyes glassy, his teeth set. Hilma Tree was dancing for the second time
with Harran Derrick. She danced with infinite grace. Her cheeks were
bright red, her eyes half-closed, and through her parted lips she drew
from time to time a long, tremulous breath of pure delight. The music,
the weaving colours, the heat of the air, by now a little oppressive,
the monotony of repeated sensation, even the pain of physical fatigue
had exalted all her senses. She was in a dreamy lethargy of happiness.
It was her "first ball." She could have danced without stopping until
morning. Minna Hooven and Cutter were "promenading." Mrs. Hooven, with
little Hilda already asleep on her knee