There were hard faces in the crowd, most of them, of men who had set
their teeth against hard weather and hard men, and fought their way
through, not to happiness, but to existence, so that fighting had
become their pleasure.
Now they relaxed their eternal vigilance, their eternal suspicion.
Another phase of their nature weakened. Some of them were smiling and
laughing for the first time in months, perhaps, of labor and
loneliness on the range. With the gates of good-nature opened, a
veritable flood of gaiety burst out. It glittered in their eyes, it
rose to their lips in a wild laughter. They seemed to be dancing more
furiously fast in order to forget the life which they had left, and to
which they must return.
These were the conquerors of the bitter nature of the mountain-desert.
There was beauty here, the beauty of strength in the men and a brown
loveliness in the girls; just as in the music, the blatancy of the
rattling dish-pan and the blaring trombone were more than balanced by
the real skill of the violinists, who kept a high, sweet, singing tone
through all the clamor.
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