Apparently
he was a tramp as well--his apparel proclaimed him
that; but there were two discordant notes in the otherwise
harmonious ensemble of your typical bo. He was clean shaven
and he rode a pony. He rode erect, too, with the easy seat of
an army officer.
At sight of the girl he raised his battered hat and swept it
low to his pony's shoulder as he bent in a profound bow.
"I seek the majordomo, senorita," he said.
"Mr. Grayson is up at the office, that little building to the
left of the ranchhouse," replied the girl, pointing.
The newcomer had addressed her in Spanish, and as he
heard her reply, in pure and liquid English, his eyes widened a
trifle; but the familiar smile with which he had greeted her left
his face, and his parting bow was much more dignified though
no less profound than its predecessor.
And you, my sweet Penelope, out there somewhere you wait for me,
With buds of roses in your hair and kisses on your mouth.
Grayson and his employer both looked up as the words of
Knibbs' poem floated in to them through the open window.
"I wonder where that blew in from," remarked Grayson, as
his eyes discovered Bridge astride the tired pony, looking at
him through the window. A polite smile touched the stranger's
lips as his eyes met Grayson's, and then wandered past him to
the imposing figure of the Easterner.
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