burned. "I detest that sort of thing. I
thought he was a gentleman--and he is only a male flirt ... or worse."

"Perhaps--and perhaps not, my cousin. Did Juanita tell you----?"

"She told me enough. All I need to know."

Again the young man's shoulders lifted in a little gesture of humorous
resignation. He knew the uncompromising directness of Miss Valdes and
the futility of arguing with her. After all, the character of Gordon was
none of his business. The man might have made love to Juanita, though he
did not look like that kind of a person. In any case the important thing
was to save his life.

After a moment's thought he announced a decision. "I shall take the
stage for Santa Fe this afternoon. When I have warned the American I'll
round up your man-hunters and bring them back to you."

His lady's face thanked him, though her words did not. "You may tell
them I said they were to come back at once."

At her cousin's urgent request Miss Valdes stayed to eat luncheon with
him at Corbett's, which was a half-way station for the stage and
maintained a public eating-house. Even Valencia hesitated a little at
this, though she was at heart an emancipated American girl and not a
much-chaperoned Spanish maid. But she wanted to repay him for the
service he was undertaking so cheerfully, and therefore sacrificed her
scruples.

As they were being served by Juanita the stage rolled up and disgorged
its passengers. They poured into the dining-room--a mine-owner and his
superintendent, a storekeeper from the village at the other end of the
valley, a young woman school-teacher from the Indian reservation, a
cattleman, and two Mexican sheepmen.

While the fresh horses were being hitched to the stage Pesquiera and his
guest stood back a little apart from the others. Corbett brought out a
sack containing mail and handed it to the driver. The passengers found
again their places.

Pesquiera shook hands with Valencia. His gaze rested for a moment in her
dark eyes.

"_Adios, linda_," he said, in a low voice.

The color deepened in her cheeks. She understood that he was telling her
how very much he was her lover now and always. "Good-bye, _amigo_," she
answered lightly.

Pesquiera took his place on the back seat. The whip of the driver
cracked. In a cloud of white dust the stage disappeared around a bend in
the road.

Valencia ordered her horse brought, and left for the ranch. Having
dispatched Manuel to the scene of action,