ony hill.
"You know Luis?"

"I know him."

"You can fill your two canteens and carry the olla for us," she pursued,
arriving eagerly beside him, her face lifted to her strong, tall lover.

"I can."

At this second chill of his voice, and his way of meeting her when she
had come running, she looked at him bewildered, and the smile fluttered
on her lips and left them. She walked beside him, talking no more; nor
could she see his furtive other hand mutely open and shut, helping him
keep his grip.

Luis also looked at the man who had taken Lolita's thoughts away from
him and all other men. "No, indeed, he does not understand her very
well," he repeated, bitter in knowing the man's suspicion and its
needlessness. Something--disappointment, it may be--had wrought more
reality in the young Mexican's easy-going love. "And she likes this
gringo because--because he is light-colored!" he said, watching the
American's bronzed Saxon face, almost as young as his own, but of
sterner stuff. Its look left him no further doubt, and he held himself
forewarned. The American came to the bottom, powerful, blue-eyed, his
mustache golden, his cheek clean-cut, and beaten to shining health by
the weather. He swung his blue-overalled leg over his saddle and rode to
the Tinaja, with a short greeting to the watcher, while the pale Lolita
unclasped the canteen straps and brought the water herself, brushing
coldly by Luis to hook the canteens to the saddle again. This slighting
touch changed the Mexican boy's temper to diversion and malice. Here
were mountains from mole-hills! Here were five beans making ten with a
vengeance!

"Give me that," said the American; and Luis handed up the water-jar to
him with such feline politeness that the American's blue eyes filled
with fire and rested on him for a doubtful second. But Luis was quite
ready, and more diverted than ever over the suppressed violence of his
Saxon friend. The horseman wheeled at once, and took a smooth trail out
to the top of the mesa, the girl and boy following.

As the three went silent up the canon, Luis caught sight of Lolita's
eyes shining with the hurt of her lover's rebuff, and his face sparkled
with further mischief. "She has been despising me all day," he said to
himself. "Very well, very well.--Senor Don Ruz," he began aloud,
elaborately, "we are having a bad drought."

The American rode on, inspecting the country.

"I know at least four sorts of kisses," reflected th