Charming Billy, because his eagerness was spiced with expectancy, did not stop even for a drink, but made for the hotel.  At the hotel he learned that his “crowd” was over at the hall, and there he hurried so soon as he had removed the dust and straightened his tie and brushed his hair and sworn at his upstanding scalp-lock, in the corner of the hotel office dedicated to public cleanliness.

It was a pity that such single-hearted effort must go unrewarded, but the fact remains that he reached the hall just as the couples were promenading for the first waltz.  He was permitted the doubtful pleasure of a welcoming nod from Flora as she went by with the Pilgrim.  Dill was on the floor with Mama Joy, and at a glance he saw how it was; the Pilgrim had “butted in” and come along with them.  He supposed Flora really could not help it, but it was pretty hard lines, all the same.  For even in the range-land are certain rules of etiquette which must be observed when men and women foregather in the pursuit of pleasure.  Billy remembered ruefully how a girl must dance first, last, and oftenest with her partner of the evening, and must eat supper with him besides, whether she likes or not; to tweak this rule means to insult the man beyond forgiveness.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt me none if Flora did cut him off short,” Billy concluded, his eyes following them resentfully whenever they whirled down to his end of the room.  “The way I’ve got it framed up, I’d spoke for her first—­if Dilly told her what I said.”

Still, what he thought privately did not seem to have much effect upon realities.  Flora he afterward saw intermittently while they danced a quadrille together, and she made it plain that she had not considered Billy as her partner; how could she, when he was trailing around over the country with the round-up, and nobody knew whether he would come or not?  No, Mr. Walland did not come to the ranch so very often.  She added naively that he was awfully busy.  He had ridden in with them—­and why not?  Was there any reason—­

Billy, though he could think of reasons in plenty, turned just then to balance on the corner and swing, and to do many other senseless things at the behest of the man on the platform, so that when they stood together again for a brief space, both were breathless and she was anxiously feeling her hair and taking out side combs and putting them back again, and Billy felt diffident about interrupting her and said no more about who was her partner.

An hour or so later he was looking about for her, meaning to dance with her again, when a man pushed him aside hurriedly and went across the floor and spoke angrily to another.  Billy, moving aside so that he could see, discovered Flora standing up with the Pilgrim for the dance in another “set” that was forming.  The man who had jostled him was speaking to them angrily, but Billy could not catch the words.

“He’s drunk,” called the Pilgrim to the floor manager.  “Put him out!”