“All my life I have looked, and looked into the beautiful mirages of the south desert wondering what would come out of it––and she was the answer,” she said, smiling at Kit. “Tomorrow I’ll feel as if it was all a dream, all but the wonderful red gold, and you! Some fine day we’ll take a little pasear down there, I’ll follow that dream trail, and–––”
“You will not!” decided the chosen of her heart with rude certainty. “The dreams of that land of mirages are likely to breed nightmares. You are on the right side of the border for women to stay. Our old American eagle is a pretty safe bird to roost with.”
“Well,” debated the only girl, “if it comes to that, Mexico also has the eagle, and had it first!”
“Yes, contrary child,” he conceded, herding the mules into line, “so it has,––but the eagle of Mexico is still philandering with a helmeted serpent. Wise gamblers reserve their bets on that game, we can only hope that the eagle fights its way free!”