"I-I-I was s-sorter expectin' a-a-another kind of c-c-caller," he stuttered desperately, in explanation, every freckle standing out in prominence, "an' th-th-thought m-m-maybe somebody 'd g-g-got the d-drop on me."
The girl only laughed again, her black eyes sparkling. Yet beneath his steady, questioning gaze her face slightly sobered, a faint flush becoming apparent in either cheek.
"You talk so ver' funny, señor; you so big like de tree, an' say vords dat vay; it make me forget an' laf. You moost not care just for me. Pah! but it vas fight all de time vid you, was n't it, señor? Biff, bang, kill; ver' bad," and she clapped her gauntleted hands together sharply. "But not me; I vas only girl; no gun, no knife—see. I just like know more 'bout mine—Americano's mine; you show me how it vork. Sabe?"
Stutter appeared puzzled, doubtful.
"Mexicana?" he questioned, kicking a piece of rock with his heavy boot.
"Si, señor, but I speak de English ver' good. I Mercedes Morales, an' I like ver' much de brav' Americanos. I like de red hair, too, señor—in Mexico it all de same color like dis," and she shook out her own curling ebon locks in sudden shower. "I tink de red hair vas more beautiful."
Mr. Brown was not greatly accustomed to having his rather fiery top-knot thus openly referred to in tones of evident admiration. It was a subject he naturally felt somewhat sensitive about, and in spite of the open honesty of the young girl's face, he could not help doubting for a moment the sincerity of her speech.
"L-l-like f-fun yer do," he growled uneasily. "A-a-anyhow, whut are yer d-d-doin' yere?"
For answer she very promptly swung one neatly booted foot over and dropped lightly to the ground, thus revealing her slender figure. Her most notable beauty was the liquid blackness of her eyes.
"Si, I tell you all dat ver' quick, señor," she explained frankly, nipping the rock-pile with her riding whip, and bending over to peer, with undisguised curiosity, into the yawning shaft-hole. "I ride out from San Juan for vat you call constitutional—mercy, such a vord, señor!—an' I stray up dis trail. See? It vas most steep, my, so steep, like I slide off; but de mustang he climb de hill, all right, an' den I see you, señor, an' know dere vas a mine here. Not de big mine—bah! I care not for dat kind—but just one leetle mine, vere I no be 'fraid to go down. Den I look at you, so big, vid de beautiful red hair, an' de kin' face, an' I sink he vood let me see how dey do such tings—he vas nice fellow, if he vas all mud on de clothes. Si, for I know nice fellow, do I not, amigo? Si, bueno. So you vill show to me how de brav' Americanos dig out de yellow gold, señor?"