Surely that
fool Diego would never keep the still tongue! He would tell, when some
one missed her. If he did not, or if Senor Allen was an obstinate pig
of a man and would not come, then she would tell Senor Hunter, who was
always so kind, though not so handsome as the other, perhaps.
Senor Hunter's eyes were brown--and she had looked into brown eyes
all her life. But the blue! The blue eyes that could so quickly change
lighter or darker that they bewildered one; and could smile, or light
flames that could wither the soul of one.
Even the best rider among the Spanish girls as far south as Paso
Robles should not meditate so deeply upon the color of a senor's eyes
that she forgets the horse she is riding, especially when the horse is
Tejon, whose heart is full of wickedness.
A coyote, stalking the new-made nest of a quail, leaped out of the
mustard and gave Tejon the excuse he wanted, and the dreaming senorita
was nearly unseated when he ducked and whirled in his tracks. He ran,
and she could not stop him, pull hard as she might. If he had only
run towards home! But instead, he ran down the valley, because then he
need not face the wind; and he tried to outstrip the wind as he went.
It was when they topped a low knoll and darted under the wide,
writhing branches of a live oak, that Jack glimpsed them and gave
chase; and his heart forgot to beat until he saw them in the open
beyond, and knew that she had not been swept from the saddle by a
low branch.
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