s, never took her eyes from
her daughter's gown. As often as Minna passed near her she vented an
energetic "pst! pst!" The metal tip of a white draw string was showing
from underneath the waist of Minna's dress. Mrs. Hooven was on the point
of tears.

The solitary gayly apparelled clerk from Bonneville was in a fever of
agitation. He had lost his elaborate programme card. Bewildered, beside
himself with trepidation, he hurried about the room, jostled by the
dancing couples, tripping over the feet of those who were seated;
he peered distressfully under the chairs and about the floor, asking
anxious questions.

Magnus Derrick, the centre of a listening circle of ranchers--Garnett
from the Ruby rancho, Keast from the ranch of the same name, Gethings
and Chattern of the San Pablo and Bonanza--stood near the great open
doorway of the barn, discussing the possibility of a shortage in the
world's wheat crop for the next year.

Abruptly the orchestra ceased playing with a roll of the snare drum, a
flourish of the cornet and a prolonged growl of the bass viol. The
dance broke up, the couples hurrying to their seats, leaving the gayly
apparelled clerk suddenly isolated in the middle of the floor, rolling
his eyes. The druggist released the Spanish-Mexican girl with mechanical
precision out amidst the crowd of dancers. He bowed, dropping his chin
upon his cravat; throughout the dance neither had hazarded a word.
The girl found her way alone to a chair, but the druggist, sick from
continually revolving in the same direction, walked unsteadily toward
the wall. All at once the barn reeled around him; he fell down. There
was a great laugh, but he scrambled to his feet and disappeared abruptly
out into the night through the doorway of the barn, deathly pale, his
hand upon his stomach.

Dabney, the old man whom nobody knew, approached the group of ranchers
around Magnus Derrick and stood, a little removed, listening gravely
to what the governor was saying, his chin sunk in his collar, silent,
offering no opinions.

But the leader of the orchestra, with a great gesture of his violin bow,
cried out:

"All take partners for the lancers and promenade around the hall!"

However, there was a delay. A little crowd formed around the musicians'
platform; voices were raised; there was a commotion. Skeezicks, who
played the big horn, accused the cornet and the snare-drum of stealing
his cold lunch. At intervals he could be heard expostula