Her bronze
flesh was adorned with a lacelike tracery of beautiful design, in many
tints.
"How exceedingly pretty!" said Henry, in Spanish, a language fairly
well understood by the aborigines of the Southwest.
"I, or my paint?" asked the girl, coquettishly.
"The paint is well put on; but I think you prettiest just after a
swim."
"Thank you, senor."
"May I use the balsa again, Indita?"
"Si, senor, and you may keep it, but return the paddle."
"Thank you. I will leave the paddle on the shore where you were
sitting."
With this exchange of civilities Henry walked down to the pool. An
idea had occurred to him. He wondered if he could not float down the
river to the racing-ground and get a peep at Sancho and Chiquita, as
they came in victors. He felt sure no ponies in Arizona could outrun
them. But Mr. Duncan had told the escort not to go to the race. True;
but what harm could there be if he kept out of sight?
Placing an empty box on the raft for a seat, he took Vic on board, and
began paddling out of the lagoon.
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