She smiled, looking frankly into his eyes, and Bud blushed to the roots of his hair, but once again he held his peace.
"What, señor," she bantered; "you do not speak? Surely, then, your friend De Lancey was wrong when he said you would save me! For look, Mr. Hooker, I am promised to marry dear Phil; but how can I manage that when Manuel del Rey is watching me? It is impossible, is it not?"
"Seems so," muttered Bud, and in the back of his head he began to think quickly. Here was the fountainhead of his misfortunes, and if she had her way she would lay all his plans in ruins—and even then not marry Phil. In fact, from the light way she spoke, he sensed that she did not intend to marry him. Her grudge was against Manuel del Rey who drove away all her lovers.
"Well," he ventured, "there's no rush, I reckon—Phil's enlisted for five years."
"Ha!" she cried contemptuously. "And do you think he will serve? No! At a word from me he will flee to the border and I shall join him in the United States!"
"What?" demanded Bud. "Phil desert?"
In a moment he saw what such a move would mean to him—to Kruger and the Eagle Tail—and he woke suddenly from his calm.
"Here now," he said, scowling as he saw that she was laughing at him, "you've made me and Phil enough trouble. You let that boy alone, savvy?"
He stooped toward her as he spoke, fixing her with masterful eyes that had tamed many a bad horse and man, and she shrank away instinctively. Then she glanced at him shyly and edged over toward the open door.
"I will do what I please, Mr. Hooker," she returned, balancing on the verge of flight.