The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1903-04-12
AT THE BADEN CORRALS
Bv LENORA BECHLER.


Juan sylvia leaned from his saddle
and gazed into the lovely face lifted
TO his own.
'eWhy weren't you at the corrals
to-day, Bonita? watched all day and
not one sight of your beautiful face
rewarded me-"
Golden lights came into Bonita's
dark eyes as she answered with soft
pleased laugh:
mo, Senior, I was busy in the gar
den. You must remember that this
is violet time, and the time is short,
so they must be watered and gathered
each day. Father says the market was
never better, so we must work hard
until they bloom no more. But 1
thought of you-yes-Often, and the
violets whispered Of you"
Then, with a swift blush, she drop
ped her eyes shyly. and-saw her
shabby shoes and coarse skirt.
When she looked up again, Juan
was shutting his lips firmly. He had
started to speak, but now, sitting
erect, he gathered up the RATA which
hung from his saddle and remarked
/ cheerily:
well. the father must surely let
you come tomorrow. We are TO have
a great time at the corrals for We
newspaper reporter will be there to
write US up and take our pictures
Maybe you would like to see how she
does il p"
"she?" questioned Bonita breath
lessly. Us she pretty?"
No, I believe not" answered Juan
carelessly. AT 1east-well you can
- o.
Then swinging the sombrero from
his handsome head, he put the spurs
TO his horse and was soon out of
sight.
Bonita stood with tightly clasped
hands. watching the fog as it rolled
up from the sea to swallow the strong
erect figure on the galloping horse.
Yes, l will go tomorrow, If only
to see this girl. Something tells me
but no, you must love me. You must
you have loved me always. I know
Il, 1 know it," she sobbed passionate
II.
And Juan sylvia?
He, too, was murmuring to himself,
or was it to the image of 1.-THE, gray
clad figure whose crown of golden
brown hair was half hidden by a trim
sailor hat.
Are you beautiful" he was asking.
mo, not beautiful as Bonita Alvarez
is. She is lovely, a dark-eyed queen,
but as untutored as the violets she
grows. While you-you make me
think Of those other days, Of the life
that might be mine, if it were not for
my old father. Why did he give me
that taste of civilization, only to
snatch me back to this"
And yet in his heart. he knew that
only the sight of Mildred Ayres, spe-
cial reporter on the New York Blazer
Ead k.a old 411.-
assert itself. She had come West to
rest her tired nerves. but when she
heard of the big roundup at Baden,
few miles south of San Francisco
where she was visiting, the old pas
sion for turning out interesting copy"
rose strong within her and she was
doing a series of stories gathered
among the best rough riders of Cali
fornia, or for that matter, of the en-
tire coast.
The next morning the corrals pre-
scented an animated scene, and Miss
Ayres, with pad and camera, was on
hand early. The foreman who re-
ceived her spoke English but poorly.
so, after trying in vain to secure the
information she desired, she asked:
Where is the young man 1 talked
with yesterday-the one with black
hair and eyes? He rode a black
horse"
The foreman shrugged his shoulder.
After all she was a woman.
Juan sylvan"
Il believe that was his name. Can
you spare him ?"
Again the foreman shrugged his
shoulder.
1T is for him to say. He owns it
Then noting the surprise in Miss
Ayres' face he added:
"IuaO'g father 10 tho ,-io
yes-and Juan he sent East to college
Now he Is back, and the father is old
and i'll, and Juan is master. And the
Senorita shall talk with the master IL
she will"
All that day Juan walked at Miss
Ayres' side, chatting of the wonderful
feats of his riders and the gIories OF
range life, or grouping pictures for her
greedy camera. Late in the afternoon
Bonita left her violet garden long
enough TO make a hurried trip to the
corrals, but she stopped only few
moments. Juan had forgotten her com
ing. He was on the other side of tie
big corral, talking with Miss Ayres.
And, so leaving the cowboys behind
with their significant glances, their
struggling shoulders and plying eyes,
she took her embittered way back to
the little garden where she could pour
her grief into the ears of her violets
And while Bonita suffered and grew
pale and lost the golden light in her
midnight eyes, the intimacy between
Juan and Miss Ayres grew. The latter
thought much of the information she
gathered from her dark haired knight
but little of his personality She was
Improving in health, and the old work
and the old life called to her. So there
came day When. as they walked to-
ward the tiny depot where she was to
take the train for San Francisco. she
said TO Juan:
II think this will be my last trip to