"I admire your strength, though I doubt if I could emulate it," he confessed. "One pretty woman in sight is worth a dozen goddesses over the hill."
"Talk sense if you can!"
"I can. I shall leave to-night instead of to-morrow. I find I can go to Mexico, or South America if I choose, without touching land. I shall be running away with the property of a relative, and you might not care to mix up with it."
"An hour ago you had no such plan."
"An hour ago I had not confessed Victorio Lopez! I know an old record of his, and he thinks it is witchcraft. There is a lot of coin going along,—a matter of several rawhide sacks of it,—but it will be donated by a man who can afford gifts. Let me have your address two months ahead, and I can tell you how it all turns out."
"You should be glad to get away alive, without weighting yourself with coin. There is a woman here who would care if things went entirely wrong."
"Ana? It is for her I take the chance. I know a corner down the coast where fifty thousand will last forever. She is free, and she is of California—no snow of the hills in her blood! She will come to me after the chase is over."
"She knows?"
"Not yet. Women's fears upset things sometimes. If I do not tell her, it will be better. I need only tell that I am going; she is waiting eagerly for that."
"And Victorio Lopez?"