"I didn't want to," he ended bluntly. "Didn't want to fight him and didn't want to kill him. Had no call to. And then--well, there was you." "Ah!" she breathed, and a flush mounted her pale cheeks. She smiled as she reached out once more for the food and Hooker resolved to do his best at gallantry, it seemed to make her so happy. "So you were thinking of me," she challenged sweetly, "all the while? I thought perhaps I was a nuisance and in the way. I thought perhaps you did not like me because--well, because I'm a Mex, as you say." "No, ma'am," denied Hooker, gazing upon her admiringly. "Nothing like that! When I say Mex I mean these low, _pelado_ Mexicans--Don Juan tells me you're pure Spanish." "With perhaps a little Yaqui," she suggested slyly. "Well, mebbe he did say that, too," confessed Bud. "But it's jest as good as Spanish--they say all the big men in Sonora have got some Yaqui blood--Morral, that was vice-president; the Tornes brothers, governors--" "And Aragon!" she added playfully, but at a look in his eyes she stopped. Bud could not look pleasant and think of Aragon. "Ah, yes," she rattled on. "I know! _You_ like the Yaquis better than the Spanish--I saw you shaking hands with that Indian. And what was it you called him--Amigo?" "That's right," smiled Hooker; "him and me have been friends for months now out at the mine. I'd do anything for that feller." "Oh, now you make me jealous," she pouted. "If I were only a Yaqui--and big and black--" "Never mind," defended Bud. "He was a true friend, all right, and true friends, believe _me_, are scarce." There was a shade of bitterness in his voice that did not escape her, and she was careful not to allude to Phil. His name, like the name of her father, always drove this shy man to silence, and she wanted to make him talk. "Then you ought to be friends with _me_," she chided, after a silence. "I have always wanted to be your friend--why will you never allow it? No, but really! Haven't I always shown it? I remember now the first time that I saw you--I was looking through my hole among the passion-flowers and you saw me with your keen eyes. Phil did not--but he was there. And you just looked at me once--and looked away. Why did you never respond when I came there to look for you? You would just ride by and look at me once, and even Phil never knew." "No," agreed Bud, smiling quietly. "He was crazy to see you, but he rode right by, looking at the windows and such." "The first time I met him," mused Gracia, "I asked about you. Did he ever tell you?" Bud hung his head and grinned sheepishly. It was not difficult to make out a case against him. "Is it something I have done?" she asked at last. "Is that why you never liked me? Now, Mr. Hooker, please speak to me! And why do you always sit so far away--are you afraid of me? But look"--she moved closer to him--"here we are alone, and I am not afraid of you!"