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Make it three or four cars full and let's
motor out. We all need a good boiling, anyways. Wheeler looks about
ready for spontaneous combustion, and I got a twinge in my left little
toe. You on?"
"I am, if he is."
"If he is!' He'd fall for life in an Igorrote village with a ring in his
nose if you wanted it."
And truly enough, it did come about that on a height-of-the-season
evening a highly cosmopolitan party of four couples trooped into the
solid-marble foyer of the Geyser Springs Hotel, motor coated, goggled,
veiled; a whole litter of pigskin and patent-leather bags, hampers,
and hat boxes, two golf bags, two Pomeranians, a bull in spiked collar,
furs, leather coats, monogrammed rugs, thermos bottles, air pillows,
robes, and an _ensemble_ of fourteen wardrobe trunks sent by express.
They took the "cure." Rode horseback, motored, played roulette at the
casino for big stakes, and scorned the American plan of service for the
smarter European idea, with a special _a la carte_ menu for each meal.


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