"No, no! Nothing like that. What do you say? Will you take me for a
friend, even though I'm an enemy to the whole valley?"
Her soft, dark eyes flashed to meet his, timidly and yet with an effect
of fine spirit.
"_Si, senor_."
"Good. Shake hands on it, little partner."
She came forward reluctantly, as if she were pushed toward him by some
inner compulsion. Her shy embarrassment, together with the sweetness of
the glad emotion that trembled in her filmy eyes, lent her a rare charm.
For just an instant her brown fingers touched his, then she turned and
fled from the room.
Mrs. Corbett presently bustled in, fat, fifty, and friendly.
"I can't hardly look you in the face," he apologized, with his most
winning smile. "I reckon I've been a nuisance a-plenty, getting sick on
your hands like a kid."
Mrs. Corbett answered his smile as she arranged the coverlets.
"You'll just have to be good for a spell to make up for it. No more
ten-mile walks, Mr. Muir, till the knee is all right."
"I reckon you better call me Gordon, ma'am." His mind passed to what she
had said about his walk. "Ce'tainly that was a fool _pasear_ for a man
to take. Comes of being pig-headed, Mrs. Corbett. And Doc Watson had
told me not to use that game leg much. But, of course, I knew best," he
sighed ruefully.
"Well, you've had your lesson.
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