Wolf Breed | Page 5

as he seemed to do all things, gracefully. Since he could not
spend his money to-night for wine and since spend it he must he
ventured it pleasantly at the table where the dice rolled. Between
throws he made many slender cigarettes of fine tobacco and thin white
papers; winning, he forgot to note how much in turning his eyes with
tender admiration upon Ernestine Dumont, whose glance more than
once met his; losing, he hummed languid snatches of Mexican love
songs in a remarkably pure tenor voice.
Before he had been with them an hour it was evident to many, not last
of all to big Kootanie George, that the "Mex" was flirting openly with
the yellow haired Ernestine. It was equally evident that his notice did
not embarrass her as his apology had done. She curved her red lips at
him when George was not looking, she glanced down as demure as a
bashful school girl when her big lover was watching her. George began
to lose at his cards and when he swore at his luck did not apologise.
At last Ramon Garcia wearied of the dice. He pocketed his winnings
and pushed back his chair. A guitar in its case in a corner of the room
had caught his roving eye. Standing with his back to the wall, leaning
indolently, he sent his white fingers wandering across the strings and
his eyes drifting bade to find those of Ernestine Dumont. Then through
the discordance of other voices, of clicking chips, rustling cards, dice
snapped down upon the hard table tops, chink of glass and bottle neck,
the voice of Ramon Garcia, liberated softly, filled the room with its
richness as a room is filled with the perfume of flowers. Such music as
he made did not often come into the North Woods, and men . . . and
one woman . . . listened.
He sang it in the Spanish, a tongue which no other man here understood.

Yet they must all guess the meaning of the words. They were love
words, tenderly lilted. And they were being sung to Ernestine Dumont.
There was a little smile upon young Ramon's lips, a hint of gay laughter
in his voice and in his soft eyes a deal of love making. Kootanie
George scowled, Ernestine twirled her glass in her fingers, one or two
men laughed.
When he had done Ramon Garcia swept his fingers across the strings in
a sort of mournful regret. Then, when there was a sudden clapping of
hands, he bowed, smiled and sang again, this time putting the words of
his little song, the same song, into English:
"The perfume of roses, of little red roses; (Thou art a rose, oh, so sweet,
corazón!) The laugh of the water who falls in the fountain; (Thou art
the fountain of love, corazón!) The brightness of stars, of little stars
golden; (Estrella de mi vida! My little life star!) The shine of the moon
through the magnolia tree; I am so sad till thou come, mi amor! Dios! It
is sweet to be young and to love! More sweet than wine . . . to be young
and to love!"
In the clapping of hands which broke out when he had done Ernestine's
was to be heard above Kootanie George's grunt of disgust.
"No man talk, that," he snorted, careless of who heard. "Dam' slush."
"Your deal, Koot," laughed Blunt Rand, the American trapper from the
headwaters of the Little MacLeod. "Don't let the Mexican gent spoil
your play that-away. Deal 'em up, why don't you?"
Kootanie George glared at Rand and gathered in the cards. He
understood as did Ernestine and the others at the table the gibe which
lay under Rand's words. The American's fancies, too, had run toward
Ernestine Dumont not so long ago, and she had not deigned to take
notice of him after the coming of Kootanie.
"Mexican gent, huh?" said George slowly. "If you mean Greaser why
don't you say Greaser?"

Ramon Garcia had again approached the table. He stopped suddenly as
George's snarl came to him, and his white teeth showed for a quick
flash under his lifted lip. Then, his eyes smiling darkly, he came on
again, bending intimately over Ernestine's chair.
"They are dancing over there," he said softly. "Will you dance with me,
señorita?"
George merely looked at them sidewise. Ernestine glanced up sharply
and for a moment indecision stood easily readable in her eyes. Then she
shook her head.
"Not now," she said quietly. "Maybe after a while. I don't know.
Anyway not now."
"Gracias, señorita." He thanked her quite as though she had taken his
proffered arm. And turning away he went back to the game of dice and
his wine glass. Kootanie laughed.
"Better