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The Song of the Lark by Willa Sibert Cather
page 66 of 657 (10%)

Gunner sniffed with disgust. "Well, I think that's a
dirty Mexican way to keep house; so there!"

Johnny shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps," he muttered.
A Mexican learns to dive below insults or soar above them,
after he crosses the border.

By this time the south wall of the amphitheater cast a
narrow shelf of shadow, and the party withdrew to this
refuge. Ray and Johnny began to talk about the Grand
Canyon and Death Valley, two places much shrouded in
mystery in those days, and Thea listened intently. Mrs.
Tellamantez took out her drawn-work and pinned it to her
knee. Ray could talk well about the large part of the conti-
nent over which he had been knocked about, and Johnny
was appreciative.

"You been all over, pretty near. Like a Spanish boy,"
he commented respectfully.

Ray, who had taken off his coat, whetted his pocket-
knife thoughtfully on the sole of his shoe. "I began to
browse around early. I had a mind to see something of this
world, and I ran away from home before I was twelve.
Rustled for myself ever since."

"Ran away?" Johnny looked hopeful. "What for?"

"Couldn't make it go with my old man, and didn't take
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