“I did not think,” said Nevada, “that the letter required any answer. You wrote and told us to stop all work on the dam, and give up the idea, because some one else wanted to build a dam. Or was considering the building of a dam. I read that letter to Grandfather and Uncle Jess and Uncle Peter, as you requested. They swore rather fluently and went to work the next morning as usual.” Then, as if it had just occurred to her, “Did you come to see about that, Cousin Rawley?” “Oh, I wish you’d omit the ‘cousin’,” Rawley blurted irrelevantly. “I don’t like having it rubbed in.” Nevada said nothing for a time. Then she laughed, a hard little laugh that sounded strange, coming from her. “Certainly, if you wish. I’m very sorry I seem to have ‘rubbed it in’, as you put it. And I quite understand how you feel. Out among men--and women--as you have been, all your life, the--er--mixed relationship would prove rather a handicap. Poor old Grandfather and Grandmother should have thought of their children’s children, before they fell in love. And Uncle Peter should either have brought you here and raised you with the rest of the tribe, or never told you the truth. I’m not blaming him; I’m merely sorry for the mistake. I know what it means. I’ve been out in the world, too.” Rawley stared at the proud lift of her head and wondered just how much of that she meant. She must be quite aware of his reason for disliking to be called her cousin, but he would not argue with her. Except about the handicap. “You’re mistaken, if you think the mixed blood is an objectionable feature,” he said firmly. “Indian and Spanish have the same essential characteristics of race that the straight white blood owns. Besides, there are mighty few Americans who couldn’t trace back to something of the sort. Character, culture and environment sweep a few drops of red blood into the background, Nevada. You wouldn’t feel bitter over it, if you didn’t live right here and see the Indian predominate in Young Jess and Gladys--and your grandmother.” “_Your_ grandmother, as well as mine,” she flashed over her shoulder with a very human spitefulness. “Don’t deny it--to me.” Rawley did not deny anything at all; wherefore, conversation languished between the two. Since first he had known her, Nevada had frequently withdrawn into an unapproachable aloofness discouraging to any lasting intimacy, but she had never before betrayed resentment against her blood. He had hoped that she would be glad to see him and would let him see that she was glad. He had hoped to win her complete confidence in his devotion to their interests and welfare. He needed to have both Nevada and Peter on his side, if he were going to be successful in his mission to the Cramers. But he was extremely doubtful now of ever winning Nevada’s confidence. It began to look as though he may as well count her an opponent and be done with doubt. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR ANITA