218
Heart of the West
not a feather fluttered. He was not a caballero by instinct, and he could not understand the niceties of revenge.
A mile away the rider who had ridden past the wagon-shed struck up a harsh, untuneful song, the words of which began:
Don’t you monkey with my Lulu girl,
Or I’ll tell you what I’ll do—
Or I’ll tell you what I’ll do—
