“Camp cook?”
“Why, yes; you can cook, can’t you? All girls should know how to cook.”
“What if I do? I have cooked on the camp trips with Cap Pike, but that doesn’t say I’ll ever cook for that wild rebel, Ramon Rotil. Are you trying to frighten me off the ranges?”
“No, only stating the case,” replied Rhodes lighting a cigarette and observing her while appearing not to. “Quite a few of the girls in the revolution camps are as young as you, and many of them are not doing camp work by their own choice.”
“But I––” she began indignantly.
“Oh yes, in time you would be ransomed, and for a few minutes you might think it romantic––the ‘Bandit Bride,’ the ‘Rebel Queen,’ the ‘Girl Guerrilla,’ and all that sort of dope,––but believe me, child, by the time the ransom was paid you would be sure that north of the line was the garden spot of the earth and heaven enough for you, if you could only see it again!”
She gave him one sulky resentful look and dug her heel into Pat. He leaped a length ahead of the roan and started running.
“You can pretend you are El Gavilan after a lark, and see how near you will get!” she called derisively and leaned forward urging the black to his best.
“You glorified gray-eyed lark!” he cried. “Gather her in, Pardner!”
But he rode wide to the side instead of at the heels of Pat and thus they rode neck and neck joyously while he laughed at her intent to leave him behind.