At a word
from the master of ceremonies the cage was spun until the ivory
balls inside leaped and capered like captive squirrels. Then at
another signal it was stopped. The door was opened and the little
girl reached in a trembling hand and selected a sphere. It proved
to be hollow, with two halves screwed together, and in full sight
of the assembly it was opened, displaying a bit of paper inside.
"Ocho!" cried the announcer, and a card bearing the numeral "8"
was raised. The paper was replaced inside the ivory ball, the ball
itself was dropped into the wire cage, the door was closed, and
once more the cage was spun.
Kirk was much interested in the scene, not from any faintest hope
that he would draw a prize, but purely from the novel atmosphere
and color of the thing. While his eyes were busiest, and just as
the child prepared to draw another ball, he felt a clutch upon his
arm, and, glancing down, beheld the glowing black eyes of Senor
Ramon Alfarez fixed upon him.
Alfarez was dressed immaculately, this time in civilian's white
linen, his ferocious little mustachios carefully pointed, his
cheeks freshly shaven and talcumed, his slender feet encased in
white canvas shoes. A wonderful Guayaquil hat, the creamy straws
of which were no thicker than silk threads, crowned his sleek,
raven locks.
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