"Oh, I do wish he were here!" she breathed, leaning wearily against the white pillar of an arch and gazing down through the long arcade.
"It was so close in there," she continued, "I could not stand it a minute longer. These Indian women, you know—they weep and moan all the time. And the children—I am so sorry for them. I cannot go now, because they need me; but to-morrow—if Phil were here—I would leave and ride for the line.
"Have you seen Del Rey to-day? No? Then all the better—he must be policing the town. It is only of him I am afraid. These rebels are nothing—I agree with you! No! I am not angry with you at all now! But to-morrow, just at dusk, when all is still as it is at this time; then, if Phil were here, I would mount my brave horse and ride out by the western pass."
She ended rather inconclusively, letting her voice trail off wistfully as she waited for him to speak, but something within moved Hooker to hold his peace, and he looked out over the town without commenting on her plans. It was evident to him that she was determined to enlist his sympathy and involve him in her wild plot, and each time the conversation veered in that direction he took refuge in a stubborn silence.
"What are you thinking, Mr. Hooker?" she asked at last, as he gazed into the dusk. "Sometimes I scold you and sometimes I try to please you, but I never know what you think! I did not mean that when I said I could read your thoughts—you are so different from poor, dear Phil!"
"M-m-m," mumbled Bud, shifting his feet, and his face turned a little grim.
"Aha!" she cried with ill-concealed satisfaction, "you do not like me to call him that, do you? 'Poor, dear Phil,'—like that! But do you know why I do it? It is to punish you for never coming near me—when I signed to you—when I waited for you—long ago! Ah, you were so cruel! I wanted to know you—you were a cowboy, and I thought you were brave enough to defend me—but you always rode right by. Yes, that was it—but Phil was different! He came when I sent for him; he sang songs to me at night; he took my part against Manuel del Rey; and now—"
"Yes!" commented Bud bruskly, with his mind on "dear Phil's" finish, and she turned to peer into his face.
"So that is it!" she said. "You do not trust me. You think that I am not your friend—that I will serve you as he was served. Is that what you are thinking?"
"Something like that," admitted Hooker, leaning lazily against the mud wall. "Only I reckon I don't think just the way you do."