ting evidence of
the cruel embarrassment she felt.

Valencia's hand dropped to her side. When she spoke again the warmth had
been banished from her voice. "I see. You nursed Mr. Gordon, did you?"

Juanita's eyes fell before the cold accusation in those of Miss Valdes.
"_Si, Senorita._"

"And he was kind to you? In what way kind?"

The slim Mexican girl, always of the shyest, was bathed in blushes. "He
called me ... _nina_. He ..."

"----made love to you."

A sensation as if the clothes were being torn from her afflicted
Juanita. Why did the _Dona_ drag her heart out to look at it? Nor did
the girl herself know how much or how little Richard Gordon's gay
_camaraderie_ meant. She was of that type of women who love all that are
kind to them. No man had ever been so considerate as this handsome
curly-headed American. So dumbly her heart went out to him and made the
most of his friendliness. Had he not once put his arm around her
shoulder and told her to "buck up" when he came upon her crying because
of Pedro? Had he not told her she was the prettiest girl in the
neighborhood? And had he not said, too, that she was a little angel for
nursing him so patiently?

"_Dona_, I--do--not--know." The words came out as if they were being
dragged from her. Poor Juanita would have liked the ground to open up
and swallow her.

"Don't you know, you little stupid, that he is playing with you, that he
will not marry you?"

"If _Dona_ Valencia says so," murmured the Mexican submissively.

"Men are that way, heartless ... selfish ... vain. But I suppose you led
him on," concluded Valencia cruelly.

With a little flare of spirit Juanita looked up. Her courage was for her
friend, not for herself.

"_Senor_ Gordon is good. He is kind."

"A lot you know about it, child. Have nothing to do with him. His love
can only hurt a girl like you. Go back to your Pablo and forget the
American. I will see he does not trouble you again."

Juanita began to cry again. She did not want _Senorita_ Valdes or
anybody else interfering between her and the friend she had nursed. But
she knew she could not stop this imperative young woman from doing as
she pleased.

"Now tell me how you know that Pablo has gone to injure the American.
Did he tell you so?"

"No-o."

"Well, what did he say? What is it that you know?" Valencia's shoe
tapped the floor impatiently. "Tell me--tell me!"

"He--Pablo--met me at the corral the day he left. I was in the