Beth Norvell - Page 119/177

The grave-faced, yet good-natured giant pressed his way through the

tangled mass of obstructing bushes, and unceremoniously proceeded to

proclaim peace. His methods were characteristic of one slow of speech,

yet swift of action. With one great hand gripping the Swede, he

suddenly swung that startled individual at full length backward into

the still smouldering embers of the fire, holding the gasping Mike down

to earth with foot planted heavily upon his chest. It was over in an

instant, Swanson sputtering unintelligible oaths while beating sparks

from his overalls, the Irishman profanely conscious of the damage

wrought to his eye, and the overwhelming odds against him. Señorita

Mercedes clapped her little hands in delight at the spectacle, her

steps light as those of the dance, the girlish joy in her eyes frank

and unreserved.

"Ah, de Señor Brown--bueno! Dey vas just children to you even ven

dey fight, hey? It vas good to see such tings doin', just like de

play."

She circled swiftly up toward him, a happy bird of gay, fluttering

plumage, pressing her fingers almost caressingly along the swelling

muscle of his arm, and gazing with earnest admiration up into his face.

Beneath the witching spell of her eyes the man's cheeks reddened. He

took the way of savagery out of unexpected embarrassment.

"Th-that 's enough, now, Swanson," he commanded, the stutter largely

vanishing before the requirement of deeds. "Th-this is no c-continuous

vaudeville, an' ther curtain's rung d-down on yer act. Mike, yer ol'

varmint, if yer do any more swearin' while ther lady's yere I 'll knock

ther words back down yer throat. Yer know me, so shut up. Th-thar'll

be fightin' in p-plenty fer both o' yer presently, the way things look.

Now, vamoose, the two o' yer, an' be quiet about it. Mike, y-yer

better do something fer yer eyes if yer wanter see well 'nough ter take

a pot-shot at Farnham's gang."

The two discomfited combatants slouched off unwillingly enough, but the

slender white fingers of the Mexican remained clasping the speaker's

arm, her upturned face filled with undisguised enthusiasm. Brown,

after pretending to watch the fighters disappear, glanced uneasily down

into her wondrous dark eyes, shuffling his feet awkwardly, his

appearance that of a bashful boy. Mercedes laughed out of the depths

of a heart apparently untroubled.

"My, but eet vas so ver' big, señor. See! I cannot make de fingers to

go round--no, no. I nevah see such arm--nevah. But you no care? You

vas dat great big all over, hey? Sapristi! who de woman help like

such a big Americano?"

"B-but that ain't it, M-M-M-Mercedes," blurted out the perturbed giant,

in desperation. "I-I want yer t-t-ter love me."

"No comprende, señor."

"O-oh, yes yer do. L-Lord! didn't I t-tell it all ter yer s-s-straight

'nough last n-night? Maybe I ain't m-much on ther t-talk, but I

r-reckon I sh-sh-shot that all right. C-can't yer make over th-that

like inter l-love somehow?"