"Then he stole it from me!" flashed back Gracia as she gazed at the specimen. "Oh, have you thought all the time that I betrayed Phil? But didn't I tell you--didn't I tell you at the hotel, when you promised to be my friend? Ah, I see that you are a hard man, Mr. Hooker--quick to suspect, slow to forget--and yet I told you before! But listen, and I will tell you again. I remember well when dear Phil showed me this rock--he was so happy because he had found the gold. And just to make it lucky he let me hold it while we were talking through a hole in the wall. Then my father saw me and started to come near--I could not hand it back without betraying Phil--and in the night, when I was asleep, some one took it from under my pillow. That is the truth, and I will ask you to believe me; and if you have other things against me you must say what they are and see if I cannot explain. "No!" she ran on, her voice vibrant with the memory of past quarrels. "I have nothing to do with my father! He does not love me, but tries to make me marry first one man and then another. But I am an American girl now, at heart--I do not want to sell myself; I want to marry for love! Can you understand that? Yes? No? Then why do you look away? Have you something that you hold against me? Ah, you shake your head--but you will not speak to me! When I was at school in Los Angeles I saw the cowboys in the West show, and they were different--they were not afraid of any danger, but they would talk, too. I have always wanted to know you, but you will not let me--I thought you were brave--like those cowboys." She paused to make him speak, but Hooker was tongue-tied. There was something about the way she talked that pulled him over, that made him want to do what she said, and yet some secret, hidden voice was always crying: "Beware!" He was convinced now that she had never been a party to treachery; no, nor even wished him ill. She was very beautiful, too, in the twilight, and when she drew nearer he moved away, for he was afraid she would sway him from his purpose. But now she was waiting for some answer--some word from him, though the question had never been asked. And yet he knew what it was. She wanted him to steal away with her in the evening and ride for the border--and Phil. That was what she always wanted, no matter what she said, and now she was calling him a coward. "Sure them bronco-riders are brave," he said in vague defense; "but there's a difference between being brave and foolish. And a man might be brave for himself and yet be afraid for other people." "How do you mean?" she asked. "Well," he said, "I might be willing to go out and fight a thousand of them _insurrectos_ with one hand, and at the same time be afraid to take you along. Or I might--" "Oh, then you _will_ go, won't you?" she cried, clasping him by the hand. "You will, won't you? I'm not afraid!"