"Oh, my dear girl!" cried De Lancey, frowning in his perplexity, "you don't understand, and you make it awful hard for me. You know they're very strict now—so many low women coming across the line, for—well, the fact is, unless you are married you can't come in at all!"
"But I'm in!" protested Gracia, flushing hotly. "I'm—"
"They'll deport you," said De Lancey, stepping forward to give her support.
"I know it's hard, dear," he went on, as Bud moved hastily away, "but I've got it all arranged. Why should we wait? You came to marry me, didn't you? Well, you must do it now—right away! I've got the license and the priest all waiting—come on before the rurales get back to town and report that you've crossed the line. We can ride around to the north and come in at the other side of town. Then we—"
"Oh, no, no!" cried Gracia, pushing him impulsively aside. "I am not ready now. And—"
She paused and glanced at Bud.
"Mr. Hooker," she began, walking gently toward him, "what will you do now?"
"I don't know," answered Hooker huskily.
"Will you come with us—will you—"
"No," said Bud, shaking his head slowly.