I feel of de big arm, so, an' I know eet ees bettah dat you be
here. I mooch like please you, senor."
He clasped her hand where it rested small and white against his sleeve,
hiding it completely within his own great fist; when he spoke she could
mark the tremble in the deep voice.
"Y-you 're a m-mighty fine girl," he managed to say, simply, "but we
g-got ter go now. I-I reckon yer b-b-better walk fer a ways, as the
p-pony will step lighter."
"I not care, senor," softly. "Eet be nice to valk; I nevah 'fraid vid
you."
Brown led the way forward cautiously across the open space, one strong
hand firm on the pony's bit, the other barely touching her dress as
though it were something sacred. She endeavored to discern his face in
the faint starlight, but the low-drawn hat brim shaded it into black
lines, revealing nothing. The light, easy words she sought to speak,
hoping thus to keep him from more serious talk, would not come to her
lips. There was so much of silence and mystery on every side, so much
of doubt in this venture, that, in spite of her gay manner, every nerve
tingled with excitement.
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