A GRAND TURKEY HUNT.
"Señor General, I don't know how."
"Yes you do; you've got to dance, any way." With that he approached me, and, when I tried to dart through the crowd, caught and led me sternly back. "Here," beckoning to a lovely girl, "come, my darling, and dance with el señor extranjero."
The girl came and stood in front of me.
"That is my niece, the prettiest girl in the room, and the best dancer in the canton. Take her, now, and the Lord help you.
My explanations and protestations 
"THE PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE ROOM." that I never danced were of no avail. He only repeated, "There 's my niece; look at her!"
True enough, there she was, waiting for me to take her out. O, she was a handsome girl! with regular features, shapely shoulders, and hung all around with gold ornaments. Though she could not understand a word of my language, she must have seen that I did not want to dance with her; but when the music struck up she merely smiled, and said, in the sweetest of tones, "Vamonos!"
Vamonos[1] means "Come along!" but I would not go. Perplexed and confused, I stood there trying to frame an adequate answer from a somewhat limited Spanish vocabulary. At last I had it. "Señorita," I began, "yo no sé this kind of a dance, you see; it's all Greek to me. A Virginia reel, now, or a sailor's hornpipe, for instance; pero este baile—"
- ↑ Vamonos is purely colloquial, answering to the imperative of the verb Ir.
