"Vas dat not de bettah vay, senor? I no good here; I just girl in de vay, an' ven de fight come maybe I be 'fraid. But Senor Brown he not git 'fraid; he fight hard, more as ten men. So I help too; I just ride de pony, but I help. I go San Juan; I see de Distric' Attorney." She clapped her hands, laughing at the thought. "Si, I know de Distric' Attorney ver' veil. He tink Mercedes ver' nice girl; he tink I dance bettah as any he ever saw; he say so to me. He do vat Mercedes vant, vat she say vas de right ting--sure he do. Vas dat not de bettah, senor?" "Possibly," yet secretly questioning her motives, "but--but really, you know, I always supposed you to be a friend of Farnham's!" The girl instantly flushed crimson to the roots of her black hair, bringing her hands together sharply, her eyes straying from Winston to the suddenly uplifted face of Miss Norvell. "No, no," she said, at last, her voice softer. "He vas not to me anyting! She know how it vas; maybe she tell you sometime. Not now, but sometime. I jus' vant do right. I vant serve Senor Brown, not dat Farnham no more. No, no! once, maybe, I tink dat man ver' nice; I tink him good friend; he say much promise Mercedes. Now I tink dat no more--I know he lie all de time; I see tings as dey vas right, an' I try be good girl. You sabe all dat, senor?" "I understand some of it at least," and he smiled back into her pleading eyes, "enough to trust you. If Hicks and Brown consent, your going will be all right with me." "_Bueno_!" and she dropped him a deep Spanish courtesy, executing a quick dancing step toward the door. "Den eet vill be so. I no 'fraid. I go see dem both. _Adios_." The door opened, and she flashed forth into the fading sunlight; it closed behind her, and left the two alone among the shadows. CHAPTER XXIV AN AVOWAL OF LOVE Winston sat gazing at the delicate contour of her face, partially turned away from him, the long, silken lashes shading eyes lowered upon the floor. A single gleam of the westering sun rested in golden beauty across her dark hair, stirred by the slight breeze blowing through the open window. In the silence he could hear his heart beat, and distinguish the faint sound of her breathing. She was the first to speak, yet without moving her head. "Is it true that you are now under arrest?" she questioned, her voice scarcely audible. "Technically yes, although, as you may perceive, the sheriff is powerless to prevent an escape if I desired to attempt one." "Is it because of that--that charge he made?" He arose to his feet in brave attempt at self-control. "Oh, no, certainly not! I think that was merely a threat, a cowardly threat, utterly without provocation, without purpose, unless he sought in that way to work you a serious injury. The real charge against me is murder. It appears that the man I fought with in the mine later died from his injuries." She turned both face and body toward him, her eyes filled with agony.