vat you call constitutional--mercy, such a vord,
senor!--an' I stray up dis trail. See? It vas most steep, my, so
steep, like I slide off; but de mustang he climb de hill, all right,
an' den I see you, senor, an' know dere vas a mine here. Not de big
mine--bah! I care not for dat kind--but just one leetle mine, vere I
no be 'fraid to go down. Den I look at you, so big, vid de beautiful
red hair, an' de kin' face, an' I sink he vood let me see how dey do
such tings--he vas nice fellow, if he vas all mud on de clothes. Si,
for I know nice fellow, do I not, _amigo_? _Si, bueno_. So you vill
show to me how de brav' Americanos dig out de yellow gold, senor?"

She flashed her tempting glance up into the man's face, and Brown
stamped his feet nervously, endeavoring to appear stern.

"C-c-could n't h-hardly do it, m-m-miss. It 's t-too blame dirty
d-d-down below fer y-your sort. B-b-besides, my p-pardner ain't yere,
an' he m-m-might not l-like it."

"You haf de pardner? Who vas de pardner?"

"H-h-his name's H-H-Hicks."

She clasped her hands in an ecstasy of unrestrained delight.

"Beell Heeks? Oh, senor, I know Beell Heeks. He vas ver' nice fellow,
too--but no so pretty like you; he old man an' swear--Holy Mother, how
he swear! He tol' me once come out any time an' see hees mine. I not
know vere it vas before. Maybe de angels show me. You vas vat Beell
call Stutter Brown, I tink maybe? Ah, now it be all right, senor.
_Bueno_!"

She laid her gauntleted hand softly on the rough sleeve of his woollen
shirt, her black, appealing eyes flashing suddenly up into his troubled
face.

"I moost laugh, senor; such a brav' Americano 'fraid of de girl. Why
not you shoot me?"

"A-a-afraid nothin'," and Stutter's freckled face became instantly as
rosy as his admired hair, "b-but I t-tell ye, miss, it's a-a-all d-dirt
down th-there, an' not f-f-fit fer no lady ter t-t-traipse round in."

The temptress, never once doubting her power, smiled most bewitchingly,
her hands eloquent.

"You vas good boy, just like I tink; I wear dis ol' coat--see; an' den
I turn up de skirt, so. I no 'fraid de dirt. Now, vat you say, senor?
_Bueno_?"

Thus speaking, she seized upon the discarded and somewhat disreputable
garment, flung it carelessly about her shapely shoulders, shrugging
them coquettishly, her great eyes shyly uplifting to his relenting
face, and began swiftly to fasten up her already short dress in
disregard of t