lie--to women. God pity us! This world seems filled with just such
men, and we are their natural victims. Love? Their only conception of
it is passion, and, that once satiated, not even ordinary kindness is
left with which to mock the memory. In Heaven's name, girl, in your
life have you not long since learned this? Now, I will tell you what
this monster wanted of me to-night." She paused, scarcely knowing how
best to proceed, or just how much of the plot this other might already
comprehend.

"Have you ever heard of the 'Little Yankee' mine?" she questioned.

"Si, senorita," the voice faltering slightly, the black eyes drooping.
"Eet is up in de deep canyon yonder; I know eet."

"He told me about it," Miss Norvell continued more calmly. "He is
having trouble with those people out there. There is something wrong,
and he is afraid of exposure. You remember the young man who walked
home with me last night: Well, he is a mining engineer. He has agreed
to examine into the claims of the 'Little Yankee' people, and
this--this Farnham wants him stopped. You understand? He sent for me
to use my influence and make him go away. I refused, and then
this--this creature threatened to kill Mr. Winston if he remained in
camp, and--and I know he will."

The Mexican's great black eyes widened, but not with horror. Suddenly
in the silent pause she laughed.

"Si, si; now I know all--you lofe dis man. _Bueno_! I see eet as eet
vas."

The telltale red blood swept to the roots of Miss Norvell's hair, but
her indignant reply came swift and vehement.

"No, stop! Never dare to speak such words. I am not like that! Can
you think of nothing except the cheap masquerade of love? Have you
never known any true, pure friendship existing between man and woman?
This mining engineer has been good to me; he has proved himself a
gentleman. It is not love which makes me so anxious now to serve him,
to warn him of imminent danger--it is gratitude, friendship, common
humanity. Is it impossible for you to comprehend such motives?"

The other touched her for the first time with extended hand, her face
losing much of its previous savagery.

"I know so ver' leettle 'bout such kinds of peoples, senorita," she
explained regretfully, her voice low, "de kind vat are good and gentle
and vidout vantin' somting for eet. Eet ees not de kinds I meet vis
ver' much. Dey be all alike vis me--lofe, lofe, lofe, till I get seek
of de vord--on