Fresno, was unable to dissipate. The cowboys moped about like
melancholy shades, and neglected their work to discuss the
disgrace that had fallen upon them. It was a task to get any of
them out in the morning, several had quit, the rest were
quarrelling among themselves, and the bunk-house had already been
the scene of more than one encounter, altogether too sanguinary
to have originated from such a trivial cause as a foot-race. It
was not exactly an auspicious atmosphere in which to entertain a
houseful of college boys and girls, all unversed in the ways of
the West.
The master of the ranch sought his sister Jean, to tell her
frankly what was on his mind.
"See here, Sis," he began, "I don't want to cast a cloud over
your little house-party, but I think you'd better keep your
friends away from my men."
"Why, what is the matter?" she demanded.
"Things are at a pretty high tension just now, and the boys have
had two or three rows among themselves. Yesterday Fresno tried to
'kid' Willie about _The Holy City;_ said it was written as a
coon song, and wasn't sung in good society.
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