"What's next? What's next?" she called excitedly to a tall young
cattleman.
The cowboy looked up at her, and his face relaxed into a pleased smile.
"Why, it's a drillin' match over in the next street, miss," he answered
politely. "You'd better run right along over and get a good place." He
glanced at de Laney, smiled again, and turned away, apparently to
follow his own advice.
"Come on, we'll follow him," cried Mary, jumping down.
"And abandon our box?" objected Bennington. But she was already in full
pursuit of the tall cowboy.
The ring around the large boulder--dragged by mule team from the
hills--had just begun to form when they arrived, so they were enabled
to secure good places near the front rank, where they kneeled on their
handkerchiefs, and the crowd hemmed them in at the back. The drilling
match was to determine which pair of contestants could in a given
time, with sledge and drill, cut the deepest hole in a granite boulder.
To one who stood apart, the sight must have been picturesque in the
extreme. The white dust, stirred by restless feet, rose lazily across
the heated air. The sun shone down clear and hot with a certain
wide-eyed glare that is seen only in the rarefied atmosphere of the
West.
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