Beth Norvell

"I-I-I was s-sorter expectin' a-a-another kind of c-c-caller," he

stuttered desperately, in explanation, every freckle standing out in

prominence, "an' th-th-thought m-m-maybe somebody 'd g-g-got the d-drop

on me."

The girl only laughed again, her black eyes sparkling. Yet beneath his

steady, questioning gaze her face slightly sobered, a faint flush

becoming apparent in either cheek.

"You talk so ver' funny, señor; you so big like de tree, an' say vords

dat vay; it make me forget an' laf. You moost not care just for me.

Pah! but it vas fight all de time vid you, was n't it, señor? Biff,

bang, kill; ver' bad," and she clapped her gauntleted hands together

sharply. "But not me; I vas only girl; no gun, no knife--see. I just

like know more 'bout mine--Americano's mine; you show me how it vork.

Sabe?"

Stutter appeared puzzled, doubtful.

"Mexicana?" he questioned, kicking a piece of rock with his heavy boot.

"Si, señor, but I speak de English ver' good. I Mercedes Morales, an'

I like ver' much de brav' Americanos. I like de red hair, too,

señor--in Mexico it all de same color like dis," and she shook out her

own curling ebon locks in sudden shower. "I tink de red hair vas more

beautiful."

Mr. Brown was not greatly accustomed to having his rather fiery

top-knot thus openly referred to in tones of evident admiration. It

was a subject he naturally felt somewhat sensitive about, and in spite

of the open honesty of the young girl's face, he could not help

doubting for a moment the sincerity of her speech.

"L-l-like f-fun yer do," he growled uneasily. "A-a-anyhow, whut are

yer d-d-doin' yere?"

For answer she very promptly swung one neatly booted foot over and

dropped lightly to the ground, thus revealing her slender figure. Her

most notable beauty was the liquid blackness of her eyes.

"Si, I tell you all dat ver' quick, señor," she explained frankly,

nipping the rock-pile with her riding whip, and bending over to peer,

with undisguised curiosity, into the yawning shaft-hole. "I ride out

from San Juan for vat you call constitutional--mercy, such a vord,

señor!--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, señor, 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, señor?"