"B-but you do," he called out, "I-I know you d-do. Won't yer just s-s-say it for me onct?"
"Say dat I marry you?"
"Y-yes, for it means ther same. Anyhow, s-say yer love me."
She laughed, shaking her head so hard the black hair became a whirling cloud about her.
"No, no! eet not de same, señor. Maybe I lofe you, maybe not yet. Dat ees vat you must fin' out. But marry? Dat no show I lofe you. Oh, de men! to tink eet vas de only vay to prove lofe to marry. No, no! maybe I show you some day eef I lofe you; si, some day I show you ven I know true. But dat not mean I marry you. Dat mean more as dat—you see. Adios, señor."
And he stood alone, staring at the blank door, strangely happy, although not content.
CHAPTER XXI
UNDER ARREST
When Brown emerged from behind the protection of the cabin, his freckled face yet burning red in memory of his strenuous love-making, he discovered both Hicks and Winston standing upon the rock which shortly before had formed their breakfast table, gazing watchfully off into the purple depths of the canyon, occasionally lifting their eyes to search carefully the nearer surroundings about the hostile "Independence." Something serious was in the air, and all three men felt its mysterious presence. Hicks held the field-glasses in his hands, outwardly calm, yet his old face already beginning to exhibit the excitement of rapidly culminating events. That they were not to be long left undisturbed was promised by an increasing number of figures distinctly visible around the distant shaft-house and dump, as well as the continuous shouting, indistinguishable as to words but pronounced in volume, borne through the clear air to their ears.