can.

As a matter of fact, Ramerrez not only bore the imprint of his mother's
race in features and in speech, but the more he made war upon them, the
more he realised that it was without any real feeling of hostility. In
spite of his early training and in spite of his oath, he could not share
his father's bitterness. True, the gringos had wrecked the fortunes of
his house; it was due to them that his sole inheritance was an outlaw's
name and an outlaw's leadership. And yet, despite it all, there was
another fact that he could not forget,--the fact that he himself was one
half gringo, one half the same race as that of the unforgotten Girl whom
he had met on the road to Sacramento. Indeed, it had been impossible
to forget her, for she had stirred some depth in him, the existence of
which he had never before suspected. He was haunted by the thought of
her attractive face, her blue eyes and merry, contagious laugh. For the
hundredth time he recalled his feelings on that glorious day when he had
intercepted her on the great highway. And with this memory would come a
sudden shame of himself and occupation,--a realisation of the barrier
which he had deliberately put between the present and the past. Up to
the hour when he had parted from her, and had remained spellbound,
seated on his horse at the fork of the roads, watching the vanishing
coach up to the last minute, he was still a Spanish gentleman, still
worthy in himself,--whatever his father had done,--to offer his love and
his devotion to a pure and honest girl. But now he was an outlaw, a road
agent going from one robbery to another, likely at any time to stain his
hand with the life-blood of a fellow man. And this pretence that he was
stealing in a righteous cause, that he was avenging the wrongs that had
been done to his countrymen,--why, it was the rankest hypocrisy! He knew
in his heart that vengeance and race hatred had nothing whatever to do
with it. It was because he loved it like a game, a game of unforeseen,
unguessed danger. The fever of it was in his blood, like strong drink,--
and with every day's adventure, the thirst for it grew stronger.

Yet, however personally daring, Ramerrez was the last person in the
world to trust to chance for his operations, more than was absolutely
necessary. He handled his men with shrewd judgment and strict
discipline. Furthermore, never was an attack made that was not the
outcome of a carefully matured plan. A prime factor in R