questions asked.

Manuela (calling SANDY). Diego!

Sandy (aside, without heeding her). That's a sweet voice for a
serenade. Round, full, high-shouldered, and calkilated to fetch a
man every time. Only thar ain't, to my sartain knowledge, one o'
them chaps within a mile of the rancho. (Laughs.)

Manuela. Diego!

Sandy (aside). Oh, go on! That's the style o' them Greasers.
They'll stand rooted in their tracks, and yell for a chap without
knowin' whether he's in sight or sound.

Manuela (approaching SANDY impatiently). Diego!

Sandy (starting, aside). The devil! Why, that's ME she's after.
(Laughs.) I clean disremembered that when I kem yer I tole those
chaps my name was James,--James Smith (laughs), and thet they might
call me "Jim." And De-a-go's their lingo for Jim. (Aloud.) Well,
my beauty, De-a-go it is. Now, wot's up?

Manuela. Eh? no sabe!

Sandy. Wot's your little game. (Embraces her.)

Manuela (aside, and recoiling coquettishly). Mother of God! He
must be drunk again. These Americans have no time for love when
they are sober. (Aloud and coquettishly.) Let me go, Diego. Don