“Don’t,” he said sharply. “You don’t understand. Why—you’re only a little girl. Where is your home, child? I am going to take you there.” She sprang back with a cry, and her anger flashed out upon him.
“Oh!” she stamped one foot upon the sand. “Do I not understand? Think you I do not? You miserable! You have never the heart of a caballero. You are but hombre, after all!”
She caught her breath.
“Gringo swine!” she hissed. “Hombre! It is not the heart of a caballero!”
“I haven’t got the heart to crush little girls,” he answered, “if that’s what you mean. Tell me where you live. I’m going to take you home. You must not be out here alone.”
He spoke now with protecting concern. The girl’s mood had changed again, and she was sobbing passionately.
“Do you live in the town?” Gard persisted, and she shook her head. Half unconsciously she was walking beside him as he moved forward.
“Hush!” she suddenly cried, checking her sobs.
Across the desert came the sound of a man’s voice, calling angrily. ’Chita put out a hand, arresting Gard’s steps.
“It is my father,” she whispered. “He is blind; but he has ears of the coyote. If he hears you—if he knows—he will beat me!”