"Why run?" She snatched a small round looking-glass out of the breast of her shirt. "You've only to get the sun on this glass and flash the light three times upon La Soledad. The man on look-out will see the flash."
"Give me the glass, then."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Do you know what it means, Jim, if you flash that signal?"
"Rescue for you."
"And for you, Jim? It means that you quit bein' an honest man, it means shame, it means death. Us outlaws don't die in our beds, Jim."
"Give me the glass."
"No, Jim. Some time soon, when you and me is riding with the outfit, or camped at our stronghold, the army is goin' to come up agin' us—pony soldiers, and walk-a-heaps, and twice guns, to take our water-holes, to drive away our remuda, to block our escape trails, to close in on us. Our fires are goin' to be put out, our corpses left to the coyotes and the eagles."
"Give me that glass!"