"Never mind!" returned Bud, his voice thick with rising anger. "If I kill him it won't be for you!"
He jumped Copper Bottom ahead to avoid her, for in that moment she had touched his pride. Yes, she had done more than that—she had destroyed a dream he had, a dream of a beautiful woman, always gentle, always noble, whom he had sworn to protect with his life. Did she think he was a pelado Mexican, a hot-country lover, to be inflamed by a glance and a smile? Then Phil could have her!
"Ah, Bud!" she appealed, spurring up beside him, "you did not understand! I know you are brave—and if he comes"—she struck her pistol fiercely—"I will kill him myself!"
"Never mind," answered Bud in a kinder voice. "I'll take care of you. Jest keep your horse in the trail," he added, as she rode on through the brush, "and I'll take care of Del Rey."
He beckoned her back with a jerk of the head and resumed his place in the lead. Here was no place to talk about men and motives. The mountain above was swarming with rebels, there were rurales spurring behind—yes, even now, far up on the eastern hillside, he could see armed men—and now one was running to intercept them!
Bud reached for his rifle, jacked up a cartridge, and sat crosswise in his saddle. He rode warily, watching the distant runner, until suddenly he pulled in his horse and threw up a welcoming hand. The man was Amigo—no other could come down a hillside so swiftly—and he was signaling him to wait.
"Who is that man?" asked Gracia, as she reined in at his side. "Do you know him?"
"Sure do!" responded Hooker jovially. "He's the best friend I got in Mexico!
"Kai, Amigo!" he hailed, as the Yaqui came quartering down the hill, and, apparently oblivious of the oncoming pursuers, he rode out of the trail to meet him. They struck hands and Amigo flashed his familiar smile, glancing shyly over the horse's back at the daughter of the Aragons.
"I knew horse," he explained, with a gentle caress for Copper Bottom. "My people—up there—kill Mexicans! Where you go?"