not always did her great, dark eyes stare into the
blackness; sometimes she buried her head in the pillow and moaned, and
at last she wept, permitting herself the flood of tears that she had
held in check all day. "Rudolf, Rudolf," was the name upon her lips.

CHAPTER IX

Within a few days Hughie came up to Colina, and through the long, chilly
evenings near the peaks the little, isolated group met in Gallito's
cabin. It was understood in the village that Gallito did not care to
have his seclusion invaded, and this unspoken desire was universally
respected; indeed, it was not questioned. In the solitary places are
many eccentrics; they have escaped the melting pot of the city, and in
the freedom of the desert and the mountains have achieved an unfettered
and unquestioned individuality.

Those who had business dealings with the old Spaniard knew that he was
to be found in places more easy of access than his lonely cabin among
the rocks and trees; at the mine, for instance, of which he was foreman,
the Mont d'Or; or, on an occasional Friday evening, in the village
saloon, where he mingled with the miners, engaging in the eternal and
interminable discussions of local mining affairs. He also kept a horse
in the village, a fiery, blooded creature, which he exercised every few
days, taking long rides over the various mountain trails. He was
universally respected, as his judgment of mines was known to be sound,
and his ventures unusually lucky; but no one was ever rash enough to
encroach upon the reserve which he invariably maintained.

So, with small fear of embarrassing interruptions, although Gallito saw
that all prudence was observed and every precaution taken, he and Jose,
Mrs. Nitschkan and Mrs. Thomas sat over their cards, while Hughie played
upon the piano and Harry Seagreave listened, with his eyes closed, to
the music. He sometimes brought Pearl a cluster of the exquisite wild
flowers which now covered the mountains, but he rarely made any but the
briefest attempts at conversation with her, and after the first evening
she showed no disposition to have him do so.

Instead of rousing from the depression which had overfallen her, she
seemed, for a time, to sink the more deeply into it. Silent, listless,
almost sullen, she passed her days. There was but little incentive for
her to go down into the village, and she took small interest in the
miners' wives who dwelt there. For a time she was curious to see Mrs.