You have but to
look at him to know that. Have you forgotten that he has not always
lived in these mountains? Do you not recall that he was middle-weight
champion of Cape Colony, that he was a scout all through the Boer war?
That he also saw service in India and has certain decorations to show
for it? Saint Harry! ha, ha, ha!
"The one thing he could not resist was any kind of a mad adventure, all
the chances against him and all the hounds on top of him, and he pitting
his wits against them and scheming to outwit them. A petticoat could
never hold him. Oh, yes," in answer to Gallito's upraised brows, "there
have been one or two, here and there, but they meant little to him, as
any one might see. But, as you know and I know, Gallito, the Devil often
wins by persistence; he never gives up. So, although Saint Harry's case
is a puzzling one, the Devil is not discouraged. He looks about him and
says, 'My friend, Gallito, my old and tried friend, has a daughter,
beautiful as a flower, graceful as a fountain. I will bring her here and
then Saint Harry will scramble off his ice peak fast enough.'"
"Your foolish wits run away with you," growled Gallito.
"My legs must run away with me now," said Jose, rising and stretching
his arms and yawning. "But tell me first why was your daughter sad when
she first came here?"
"Because she had fallen in love with a damned rascal," said Gallito
bitterly, "after the manner of women."
"After the manner of women," Jose nodded, and whispered behind his hand,
so that the two mountain ladies might not overhear him.
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