"Well, you think awful fast," answered Hooker slowly. "And you don't always think the same, seems like. I'm kind of quiet myself, and I don't like--well, I wouldn't say that, but you don't always mean what you say." "Oh!" breathed Gracia, and then, after a pause, she came nearer and leaned against the low wall beside him. "If I would speak from my heart," she asked, "if I would talk plain, as you Americans do, would you like me better then? Would you talk to me instead of standing silent? Listen, Bud--for that is your name--I want you to be my friend the way you were a friend to Phil. I know what you did for him, and how you bore with his love-madness--and that was my fault, too. But partly it was also your fault, for you made me angry by not coming. "Yes, I will be honest now--it was you that I wanted to know at first, but you would not come, and now I am promised to Phil. He was brave when you were careful, and my heart went out to him. You know how it is with us Mexicans--we do not love by reason. We love like children--suddenly--from the heart! And now all I wish in life is to run away to Phil. But every time I speak of it you shut your jaws or tell me I am a fool." "Ump-um," protested Bud, turning stubborn again. "I tell you you don't know what you're talking about. These rebels don't amount to nothing around the town, but on a trail they're awful. They shoot from behind rocks and all that, and a woman ain't no ways safe. You must know what they're like--these old women don't think about nothing else--so what's the use of talking? And besides," he added grimly, "I've had some trouble with your old man and don't want to have any more." "What trouble have you had?" she demanded promptly, but Hooker would not answer in words. He only shrugged his shoulders and turned away, crumpling his hat in his hand. "But no!" she cried as she sensed the meaning of his concealment, "you must tell me! I want to know. Was it over your mine? Then you must not blame me, for he never has told me a word!" "No?" inquired Bud, rousing suddenly at the memory of his wrongs. "Then maybe you will tell me how he got _this_"--he fetched a worn piece of ore from his pocket--"when my pardner gave it to _you_! It was right there I lost my pardner--and he was a good kid, too--and all because of that rock. Here, take a look at it--I took that away from your father!"