“She does not intend to have any eavesdroppers, that is certain,” muttered the scout to himself.
A short walk brought him to the arbor, a perfect bower of beauty amid the flowers that were upon all sides.
The señorita arose from a hammock, a book in her hand, as the caller approached.
“Señor, be seated,” she said, and she appeared embarrassed.
“Señorita, I have no right, perhaps, to intrude myself upon you, knowing the unwritten law of your house that no stranger must enter, but I have done so to return to you a trinket that belongs to you—one I picked up upon the scene when last we met.”
As Buffalo Bill spoke, he held out the bracelet he had found upon the spot where he had rescued the Mexican officer and the maiden from the outlaws.
The face of the fair Mexican flushed and paled in turn, and, stepping forward, she said earnestly:
“Señor, can you ever forgive me for my treatment of you that day, leaving you, as we did, after your saving the señor captain from certain death, and rescuing me from the power of cruel foes?
“Yes, the bracelet must have been torn from my wrist unnoticed by my captors in the struggle.