“Then keep your word, and give me your pistol in return.”
“Did I actually promise it?”
“You promised, Señor.”
“Then in that case, the pistol is yours.”
“Please hand it to me.”
Her eagerness to obtain the weapon was but partially hidden, and the young man laughed as he weighed the fire-arm in his hand, holding it by the muzzle.
“It is too heavy for a slim girl like you to handle,” he said, at last. “It can hardly be called a lady’s toy.”
“You intend, then, to break your word,” said the girl, with quick intuition, guessing with unerring instinct his vulnerable point.
“Oh, no,” he cried, “but I am going to send the pistol half-way home for you,” and with that, holding it still by the barrel, he flung it far out on the sandy plain, where it fell, raising a little cloud of dust. The girl was about to speed to the fort, when, for the third time, the young man grasped her wrist. She looked at him with indignant surprise.
“Pardon me,” he said, “but in case you should wish to fire the weapon, you must have some priming. Let me pour a quantity of this gunpowder into your hand.”