They came upon the cañon suddenly, so suddenly that Pete's horse shied and circled. Malvey, leading, put his own pony down a steep and winding trail. Pete followed, fixing his eyes on a far green spot at the bottom of the cañon, and the thin thread of smoke above the trees that told of a habitation.
At a bend in the trail, Malvey turned in the saddle: "We'll bush down here. Friends of mine."
They watered their horses at the thin trickle of water in the cañon-bed and then rode slowly past a weirdly fenced field. Presently they came to a rude adobe stable and scrub-cedar corral. A few yards beyond, and hidden by the bushes, was the house. A pock-marked Mexican greeted Malvey gruffly. The Spider's name was mentioned, and Pete was introduced as his friend. The horses were corralled and fed.
As Pete entered the adobe, a thin, listless Mexican woman--Flores's wife--called to some one in an inner room. Presently Flores's daughter appeared, supple of movement and smiling. She greeted Malvey as though he were an old friend, cast down her eyes at Pete's direct gaze, and straightway disappeared again. From the inner room came the sound of a song. The young stranger with Malvey was good-looking--quite worth changing her dress for. She hoped he would think her pretty. Most men admired her--she was really beautiful in her dark, Southern way--and some of them had given her presents--a cheap ring, a handkerchief from Old Mexico, a pink and, to her, wonderful brush and comb. Boca Dulzura--or "pretty mouth" of the Flores rancho--cared for no man, but she liked men, especially when they gave her presents.
When she came from her room, Malvey laughingly accused her of "fixing up" because of Pete, as he teased her about her gay rebosa and her crimson sash. She affected scorn for his talk--but was naturally pleased. And the young stranger was staring at her, which pleased her still more.
"This here hombre is Pete," said Malvey. "He left his other name to home." And he laughed raucously.
Pete bowed, taking the introduction quite seriously.
Boca was piqued. This young caballero did not seem anxious to know her--like the other men. He did not smile.
"Pete," she lisped, with a tinge of mockery in her voice. "Pete has not learned to talk yet--he is so young?"