"Quite like watering-place belles with extensive wardrobes," remarked
Frank.
"And takes about as long to put on the paint as to put on a
fashionable dress," said Henry, "but not so long to remove it."
Another thing that amused the boys was a _balsa_, or raft, made by the
Mojaves, of the cane-grass which grew in the river-bottoms to the
height of fifteen feet. A large bundle bound at the ends with grass
ropes would sustain two men. The boys borrowed one of an Indian girl,
who was sitting in the shade of some willows prinking herself
artistically with an original and intricate pigmentary pattern.
Stepping on board, they paddled about the lagoon for a considerable
period.
Tiring at last of the sport, they separated, Frank saying that he was
going for his shot-gun, and perhaps shoot for some quail, and Henry
that he meant to find Tom Clary and set some lines for catfish.
The younger sergeant failing to find the soldier, selected a line,
and, procuring some bait, returned alone to the lagoon. On his way he
met the Indian girl walking along the sidewalk, an object of
admiration and envy to the men and women of her people.
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