Phil glanced at her gratefully. He was ashamed of his impatience of a moment before. He knew that she was risking a great deal by coming to him this way. If she should be found out, in all probability her punishment would be almost as hard as his own, if not quite. She would be tried as a traitor—and Espato was not kind to traitors. He wondered how she dared.
Impulsively he reached out a hand to her.
“You are very kind, senorita,” he said, gratefully. “You should not risk so much for me—.”
“Ah, but I am not risking as much as you think,” she broke in quickly. “I should not have dared to come to you as I have today only that Espato and his men are afield and the camp is almost deserted. I watched my chance when no one was looking and then with the help of Tony Gomez—” she paused and bit her lip as though she had said more than she had intended. She glanced at Phil anxiously, as though she hoped he had not heard.
But Phil had heard. He leaned toward her eagerly.
“Then it was Tony Gomez who opened the door for you tonight,” he said, more as a statement than a question. “Then I was right in thinking the fellow wasn’t altogether unfriendly?”
The girl bit her lip and turned away. When she turned back to him again Phil was surprised and chagrined to find that her eyes were filled with tears.
“Ah, if I have so much as harm’ one hair of my Tony’s head, I hope that I may die,” she said tensely, then added, quite simply as though she had known him all her life, “Tony an’ I, we love each other, senor. If anything should happen to him, I know that I would not live.”
And suddenly Phil felt a warm affection for this simple little Mexican girl who confided her heart secrets to him with all the naivete of an innocent child, and yet who had courage enough to risk her own safety by coming to help him, a stranger.
“You needn’t be afraid that I’ll do anything to harm Gomez,” he said, gently. “An American never harms anyone who tries to do him a good turn.”