After supper Arallanes invited Adam to ride up to the camp. Whereupon Margarita asked to be taken. Arallanes laughed, and then talked so fast that Adam could not understand. He gathered, however, that the empty ore train traveled up the canyon to the camp, there to remain until morning. Also Adam perceived that Margarita did not get along well with this man, who was her stepfather. They appeared on the verge of a quarrel. But the señora spoke a few soft words that worked magic upon Arallanes, though they did not change the passion of the girl. How swiftly she had paled! Her black eyes burned with a dusky fire. When she turned them upon Adam it was certain that he had a new sensation.
“Will not the gracious señor take Margarita to the dance?”
That was how Adam translated her swift, eloquent words. Embarrassed and hesitating, he felt that he cut a rather sorry figure before her. Then he realized the singular beauty of her big eyes, sloe black and brilliant, neither half veiled nor shy now, but bold and wide and burning, as if the issue at stake was not trivial.
Arallanes put a hand on Adam. “No, señor,” he said. “Some other time you may take Margarita.”
“I—I shall be pleased,” stammered Adam.
The girl’s red lips curled in pouting scorn, and with a wonderful dusky flash of eyes she whirled away.
Outside, Arallanes led Adam across the sands, still with that familiar hand upon him.
“Boy,” he said, in English, “that girl—she no blood of mine. She damn leetle wild cat—mucha Indian—on fire all time.”
If ever Adam had felt the certainty of his youthful years, it had been during those last few moments. His collar was hot and tight. A sense of shock remained with him. He had not fortified himself at all, nor had he surrendered himself to recklessness. But to think of going to a dance this very night, in a mining camp, with a dusky-eyed little Spanish girl who appeared exactly what Arallanes had called her—the very idea took Adam’s breath with the surprise of it, the wildness of it, the strange appeal to him.
“Señor veree beeg, but young—like colt,” said Arallanes, with good nature. “Tenderfeet, the gamblers say.... He mos’ dam’ sure have tough feet soon on Picacho!”