“He treats yoh like a dog. He crazee 'bout that Jean. He gives her all smiles, all what yoh call foreground stuff. I know--I got eyes. Me, it makes me mad for see how he treat yoh--and yoh so trying hard always to Please. He got no heart for yoh--me, I see that.” He moved a step closer, hesitating, wanting yet not quite daring to touch her. “Me, I lov' yoh, little Annie,” he murmured. “Yoh lov' me little bit, eh? Jus' little bit! Jus' for say, 'Ramon, I go weeth yoh, I be yoh woman--'” Annie-Many-Ponies widened the distance between them. “Why you not say wife?” she queried suspiciously. “Woman, wife, sweetheart--all same,” he assured her with his voice like a caress. “All words mean I lov' yoh jus' same. Now yoh say yoh lov' me, say yoh go weeth me, I be one happy man. I go back on camp and my heart she's singing lov' song. My girl weeth eyes that shine so bright, she lov' me moch as I lov' her. That what my heart she sing. Yoh not be so cruel like stone--yoh say, 'Ramon, I lov' yoh.' Jus' like that! So easy to say!” “Not easy,” she denied, moved to save her freedom yet a while longer. “I say them words, then I--then I not be same girl like now. Maybe much troubles come. Maybe much happy--I dunno. Lots time I see plenty trouble come for girl that say them words for man. Some time plenty happy--I think trouble comes most many times. I think Wagalexa Conka he be awful mad. I not like for hims be mad.” “Now you make ME mad--Ramon what loves yoh! Yoh like for Ramon be mad, perhaps? Always yoh 'fraid Luck Lindsay this, 'fraid Luck that other. Me, I gets damn' sick hear that talk all time. Bimeby he marree som' girl, then what for you? He don' maree yoh, eh? He don' lov' yoh; he think too good for maree Indian girl. Me, I not think like that. I, Ramon Chavez, I think proud to lov, yoh. Ramon--” “I not think Wagalexa Conka marry me.” The girl was turning stubborn under his importunities. “Wagalexa Conka my brother--my friend. I tell you plenty time. Now I tell no more.” “Ramon loves yoh so moch,” he pleaded, and smiled to himself when he saw her turn toward toward him again. The love-talk--that was what a woman likes best to hear! “Yoh say yoh lov' Ramon jus' little bit!” “I not say now. When I say I be sure I say truth.” “All right, then I be sad till yoh lov' me. Yoh maybe be happy, yoh know Ramon's got heavy heart for yoh.” “I plenty sorry, you be sad for me,” she confessed demurely. “I lov' yoh so moch! I think nothing but how beautiful my sweetheart is. I not tease yoh no more. Tell me, how long Luck says he stay out here? Maybe yoh hear sometimes he's going for taking pictures in town?” “I not hear.” “Going home, maybe? You mus' hear little bit. Yoh tell me, sweetheart; what's he gone do when roundup's all finish? Me, I know she's finish las' week. Looks like he's taking pictures out here all summer! You hear him say something, maybe?” “I not hear.”