I must confess that Tom Osby is actin' like a blamed swine over this thing, tryin' to keep it all to himself." The phonograph inside the adobe switched from one tune to another.
"Don't that sound like the Plaza Major in old Chihuahua by moonlight ?" cried McKinney, as a swinging band march came squealing out through the door.

"That's a piece by a Mexican band.

Can't you hear the choo-choo, and the wee-wee, and the bum-bum?
They're all there, sure's you're born!" "If she plays 'La Paloma,' or that 'Golondrina' thing, I'm goin' to shoot," threatened Curly.

"I've done danced to them things at more'n a thousand _bailes_ here and in Texas, and if this is Art, she's got to do different." "Gentlemen," Dan Anderson suggested, "let us go in and watch Tom Osby gettin' his savage breast soothed." Tom Osby started as he saw shadows on the floor; but it was too late.
He was discovered sitting on the bed, in rapt attention to the machine industriously grinding away upon the table.

Dan Anderson, with great gravity, took up a collection of four pins from each of the newcomers and handed them to Tom.