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14 VAL OF PARADISE

drinking, and, incidentally, more masculine eyes to behold her in her finery.

"Little hussy," called a woman from a doorway, her brood of babies at her skirts, "stand an' watch! Bold—bold—an' don't care a rap!"

Lolo whirled upon her like a fury, black eyes suddenly flaming.

"Hold your tongue, you Marta Winne," she said, "if I had your hair and teeth I'd hide behind modesty, too."

The woman, flushing, flung indoors and drew her flock after. The shot had gone home truly, for the wisp of hair wound to a tight knob the size of an egg on her round pate was pale straw colour, and she was painfully snaggle-toothed.

Lolo turned back to watch the oncoming cloud of dust with its potentialities. It came with an increasing sound of thunder, with the rattle and creak of chain and saddle, and presently a band of men rode into the end of the sleepy street and pounded down its length toward Hunnewell's.

They were lean brown chaps to a man, they rode like centaurs, and every man-jack of them carried two guns swinging at his hips. Their garments were good and showed a certain vanity of adornments, such as an ostentation of spotted belts and riding cuffs. But the thing about them that took the eye of every beholder in that land was their horses.

Grand horses they were, wild, ramping, mettlesome creatures all big, all hard as nails from long