"No, indeed," apologized Bud; "nothing like that. Sure must be bad in there--I stay outside myself. But I reckon it'll soon be over with. The Mexicans here in town have shot off all their ammunition and I reckon the rebels have done the same. Like as not they'll all be gone to-morrow, and then you can go back home."
"Oh, thank you for thinking about me!" she returned with a scornful curl of the lip. "But if all men were as open as you, Mr. Hooker, we women would never need to ask a question. This morning you told me I did not know what I was talking about--now I presume you are thinking what cowards the Mexicans are!
"Oh, I know! You need not deny it! You are nothing but a great big--_Tejano_! Yes, I was going to say 'brute,' but you are a friend of dear Phil's, and so I will hold my tongue. If it wasn't for that, I'd--" She paused, leaving him to guess.
"Oh, I do wish he were here!" she breathed, leaning wearily against the white pillar of an arch and gazing down through the long arcade.
"It was so close in there," she continued, "I could not stand it a minute longer. These Indian women, you know--they weep and moan all the time. And the children--I am so sorry for them. I cannot go now, because they need me; but to-morrow--if Phil were here--I would leave and ride for the line.
"Have you seen Del Rey to-day? No? Then all the better--he must be policing the town. It is only of him I am afraid. These rebels are nothing--I agree with you! No! I am not angry with you at all now! But to-morrow, just at dusk, when all is still as it is at this time; then, if Phil were here, I would mount my brave horse and ride out by the western pass."
She ended rather inconclusively, letting her voice trail off wistfully as she waited for him to speak, but something within moved Hooker to hold his peace, and he looked out over the town without commenting on her plans. It was evident to him that she was determined to enlist his sympathy and involve him in her wild plot, and each time the conversation veered in that direction he took refuge in a stubborn silence.
"What are you thinking, Mr. Hooker?" she asked at last, as he gazed into the dusk. "Sometimes I scold you and sometimes I try to please you, but I never know what you think! I did not mean that when I said I could read your thoughts--you are so different from poor, dear Phil!"