He was, as she had said, in one of those expansive moods when his thoughts were lofty and grand. He opened up his heart and disclosed hopes and ambitions never before suspected by her; and as she listened it became apparent that she, Mary Fortune, was somehow involved in them all. Yet she let him talk on, for his presence was like wine to her, and his dreams as he told them seemed true. There was the trip to Europe—he alluded to it very tactfully—but he did not speak as if it were to be made alone.
And then he spoke of his plans for the Tecolote, and further conquests that would startle the world. There was Mexico, a vast treasure-house, barely scratched by the prospector; his star would soon lead him there. All he needed was patience, to wait the short time till the Tecolote began to pour out its ore. He asked her minutely of Jepson and his work and of her interview with the great Whitney H. Stoddard, and then he struck the stone rail with his knotted fist and told what would have to be done. And then at last, as the lights grew dim, he spoke of his long days in jail and how he had looked each day for her letter, which had never failed to come. His voice broke a little as he told of the trial and then he reached out and took her hand.
"I've learned from you," he said, leaning closer so she could hear him, "I've learned to understand. And you like me; now, don't you? You can't tell me different because I can see it right there in your eye?"
She looked away, but she nodded her head, and her hand still lay quiet in his.
"Yes, I like you," she said. "I can't help but like you—but let's not say any more. Aren't you happy enough without always having things—can't you wait for some things in this world?"
"Yes, I can," he said. "I can wait for everything—the money, the success and all—but I can't wait for you! No, that's asking too much!"
He drew her towards him and his strong arm swept about her, but she straightened rebelliously in his clutch.
"Remember!" she warned and his arm relaxed though his breath was still hot on her cheek. "Now I must be going," she said, rising swiftly. "Good-night, Rimrock! I'm glad you're here!"
"Don't I get a kiss?" he demanded hoarsely as his hand reached again. "Come on," he pleaded. "Didn't I turn you loose? You kissed me once—in jail!"
"But you're free now, Rimrock, and—that makes a difference. You must learn to wait, and be friends."