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Si,
for I know nice fellow, do I not, _amigo_? _Si, bueno_. So you vill
show to me how de brav' Americanos dig out de yellow gold, senor?"
She flashed her tempting glance up into the man's face, and Brown
stamped his feet nervously, endeavoring to appear stern.
"C-c-could n't h-hardly do it, m-m-miss. It 's t-too blame dirty
d-d-down below fer y-your sort. B-b-besides, my p-pardner ain't yere,
an' he m-m-might not l-like it."
"You haf de pardner? Who vas de pardner?"
"H-h-his name's H-H-Hicks."
She clasped her hands in an ecstasy of unrestrained delight.
"Beell Heeks? Oh, senor, I know Beell Heeks. He vas ver' nice fellow,
too--but no so pretty like you; he old man an' swear--Holy Mother, how
he swear! He tol' me once come out any time an' see hees mine. I not
know vere it vas before. Maybe de angels show me. You vas vat Beell
call Stutter Brown, I tink maybe? Ah, now it be all right, senor.
_Bueno_!"
She laid her gauntleted hand softly on the rough sleeve of his woollen
shirt, her black, appealing eyes flashing suddenly up into his troubled
face.


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