"Well, then what did you do?" he enquired at last as she showed no disposition to proceed. "How'd you come to get out here? Did you know old McBain or----" "Say, can't you start that engine?" she spoke up sharply. "Let's go on and forget about the rest. I'm here, we know that; and I only told you what I did to break you of gambling in stocks." "No, that engine is stalled," he said with authority, "but I'll get it to go, when it's time. But say, tell me something--we're going to be friends, you know--does Rossiter know where you are now?" "Oh, yes," she answered, "I write to him frequently. He thinks I'm out here for my health. I have this trouble, you know, and the doctors advised me to come out where the air is dry." "Well, you're a peach," observed Rimrock admiringly. "And the old man still thinks you're rich? What'll he say, do you think, when he hears of your latest--getting in on this Tecolote strike?" "Oh, I won't dare tell him," she answered quickly. "I'm afraid he wouldn't approve. And may I make a suggestion? If you'll throw on your spark I think your engine will run." "Say, you scare me!" said Rimrock with a guilty grin. "You're so smart you make me afraid. I'll crank her up, too--do you think that would help some? Huh, huh; I get caught every time!" CHAPTER IX YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND "Well, well," remarked Rimrock after he had started his machine and the desert was gliding smoothly by, "so that's why they call you Miss Fortune, eh? Losing all your money on that stock." The silent woman who sat beside him closed her lips, but made no reply. He glanced at her curiously. She was deaf, of course, though she seldom showed it--perhaps she had failed to hear. "But that can be fixed," he said, speaking louder, "you can cut off that Miss, any time." "Yes," she said with a touch of sarcasm, "I believe I've heard that before." "But I mean it!" he declared and she smiled rather grimly. "And that!" she answered, whereupon Rimrock flushed. He had used those words before in exactly the same connection. It must be madness, this insane prompting that moved him to talk love to this girl. The first time he had met her, after a scant hour of conversation, he had made that equivocal remark: "How about fifty-fifty--an undivided half?" And many times since, when he came to think of it, he had wondered how the words had slipped out. It was a way he had, of speaking impulsively, but now it was more than that. He had deliberately planned to take her out on the desert and ask her that question again. There was something about her that destroyed his judgment even when, as now, she made no effort to charm. "Then that shows I mean it!" he answered fatuously. "I meant it, the very first time." "Well, it's very flattering," she said, dimpling slightly, "but isn't this rather sudden?" "You bet it's sudden--that's the way I do things!" He dropped the wheel and caught her in his arms.