of life, and wrapped up as he
was in the girl; but at the moment he came up to the scratch like a
man."

"And to save him you have deceived me? Thank you, Senor," said the girl
with a mock curtsey.

"I reckon I preferred to have you for a wife than a daughter," said
Cranch, "if that's what you mean. When you know me better, Juanita," he
continued, gravely, "you'll know that I would never have let you believe
I sought in you the one if I had not hoped to find in you the other."

"Bueno! And when did you have that pretty hope?"

"When I first saw you."

"And that was--two weeks ago."

"A year ago, Juanita. When Francisco visited you at the rancho. I
followed and saw you."

Juanita looked at him a moment, and then suddenly darted at him, caught
him by the lapels of his coat and shook him like a terrier.

"Are you sure that you did not love that Francisco? Speak!" (She shook
him again.) "Swear that you did not follow her!"

"But--I did," said Cranch, laughing and shaking between the clenching of
the little hands.

"Judas Iscariot! Swear you do not love her all this while."

"But, Juanita!"

"Swear!"

Cranch swore. Then to Father Pedro's intense astonishment she drew the
American's face towards her own by the ears and kissed him.

"But you might have loved her, and married a fortune," said Juanita,
after a pause.

"Where would have been my reparation--my duty?" returned Cranch, with a
laugh.

"Reparation enough for her to have had you," said Juanita, with that
rapid disloyalty of one loving woman to another in an emergency. This
provoked another kiss from Cranch, and then Juanita said demurely,--

"But we are far from the trail. Let us return, or we shall miss Father
Pedro. Are you sure he will come?"

"A week ago he promised to be here to see the proofs to-day."

The voices were growing fainter and fainter; they were returning to the
trail.

Father Pedro remained motionless. A week ago! Was it a week ago
since--since what? And what had he been doing here? Listening! He!
Father Pedro, listening like an idle peon to the confidences of two
lovers. But they had talked of him, of his crime, and the man had pitied
him. Why did he not speak? Why did he not call after them? He tried
to raise his voice. It sank in his throat with a horrible choking
sensation. The nearest heads of oats began to nod to him, he felt
himself swaying backwards and forwards. He fell--heavily, down, down,
down, from the summit