He called her a devil in Spanish, and she thought it a love-word and laughed and came nearer. He did not attempt to touch her, and so, reassured, she stood close so that he could see the pure, Indian profile of her face when she raised it to the sky in a mute invocation, it might be, of her gods. “When yoh come?” he asked swiftly, his race betrayed in tone and accent. “I look and look--I no see yoh.” “I come,” she stated with a quiet meaning. “I not like cow, for make plenty noise. I stand here, you smoke two times, I look.” “You mus' be moonbeam,” he told her, reaching out again, only to lay hold upon nothing. “Come back, sweetheart. I be good.” “I not like you touch,” she repeated. “I good girl. I mind priest, I read prayers, I mind Wagalexa Conka--” There she faltered, for the last boast was no longer the truth. Ramon was quick to seize upon the one weak point of her armor. “So? He send yoh then to talk with Ramon at midnight? Yoh come to please yoh boss?” Annie-Many-Ponies turned her troubled face his way. “Wagalexa Conka sleep plenty. I not ask,” she confessed. “You tell me come here you tell me must talk when no one hear. I come. I no ask Wagalexa Conka--him say good girl stay by camp. Him say not walk in night-time, say me not talk you. I no ask; I just come.” “Yoh lov' him, perhaps? More as yoh lov' me? Always I see yoh look at him--always watch, watch. Always I see yoh jomp when he snap the finger; always yoh run like train dog. Yoh lov' him, perhaps? Bah! Yoh dirt onder his feet.” Ramon did not seriously consider that any woman whom he favored could sanely love another man more than himself, but to his nature jealousy was a necessary adjunct of lovemaking; not to have displayed jealousy would have been to betray indifference, as he interpreted the tender passion. Annie-Many-Ponies, woman-wily though she was by nature, had little learning in the devious ways of lovemaking. Eyes might speak, smiles might half reveal, half hide her thoughts; but the tongue, as her tribe had taught her sternly, must speak the truth or keep silent. Now she bent her head, puzzling how best to put her feelings toward Luck Lindsay into honest words which Ramon would understand. “Yoh lov' him, perhaps--since yoh all time afraid he be mad.” Ramon persisted, beating against the wall of her Indian taciturnity which always acted as a spur upon his impetuosity. Besides, it was important to him that he should know just what was the tie between these two. He had heard Luck Lindsay speak to the girl in the Sioux tongue. He had seen her eyes lighten as she made swift answer. He had seen her always eager to do Luck's bidding--had seen her anticipate his wants and minister to them as though it was her duty and her pleasure to do so. It was vital that he should know, and it was certain that he could not question Luck upon the subject--for Ramon Chavez was no fool.