The Girl of the Golden West | Page 3

have been asking himself whether it were best for him to be as
frank as she had been and admit his admiration for her; at last,
encouraged perhaps by a look in the Girl's blue eyes, he ventured: "But
I've been riding along this road every day since I saw you. I felt that I
must see you again."
"You must like me powerful well . . .?" This remark, far from being a
question, was accompanied with all the physiognomical evidences of
an assertion.
The stranger shot a surprised glance at her, out of the corner of his eye.
Then he admitted, in all truthfulness:
"Of course I do. Who could help . . .?"
"Have you tried not to?" questioned the Girl, smiling in his face now,
and enjoying in the full this stolen intimacy.
"Ah, Señorita, why should I . . .? All I know is that I do."
The Girl became reflective; presently she observed:
"How funny it seems, an' yet, p'r'aps not so strange after all. The
boys--all my boys at the camp like me--I'm glad you do, too."

Meanwhile the good-natured and loquaciously-inclined driver had
turned his head and was subjecting the man cantering alongside of his
stage to a rigid inspection. With his knowledge of the various types of
men in California at that time, he had no difficulty in placing the status
of this straight-limbed, broad-shouldered, young fellow as a native
Californian. Moreover, it made no difference to him whether his
passenger had met an old acquaintance or not; it was sufficient for him
to observe that the lady, as well as himself--for the expression on her
face could by no means be described as bored or scornful--liked the
stranger's appearance; and so the better to take in all the points of the
magnificent horse which the young Californian was riding, not to
mention a commendable desire to give his only passenger a bit of
pleasant diversion on the long journey, he slowed his horse down to a
walk.
"But where do you live? You have a rancho near here?" the Girl was
now asking.
"My father has--I live with him."
"Any sisters?"
"No,--no sisters or brothers. My mother was an American; she died a
few years ago." And so saying, his glance sought and obtained an
answering one full of sympathy.
"I'm downright sorry for you," said the Girl with feeling; and then in
the next breath she added:
"But I'm pleased you're--you're half American."
"And you, Señorita?"
"I'm an orphan--my family are all dead," replied the Girl in a low voice.
"But I have my boys," she went on more cheerfully, "an' what more do
I need?" And then before he had time to ask her to explain what she
meant by the boys, she cried out: "Oh, jest look at them wonderful
berries over yonder! La, how I wish I could pick 'em!"

"Perhaps you may," the stranger hastened to say, and instantly with his
free hand he made a movement to assist her to alight, while with the
other he checked his horse; then, with his eyes resting appealingly upon
the driver, he inquired: "It is possible, is it not, Señor?"
Curiously enough, this apparently proper request was responsible for
changing the whole aspect of things. For, keenly desirous to oblige him,
though she was, there was something in the stranger's eyes as they now
rested upon her that made her feel suddenly shy; a flood of new
impressions assailed her: she wanted to evade the look and yet foster it;
but the former impulse was the stronger, and for the first time she was
conscious of a growing feeling of restraint. Indeed, some inner voice
told her that it would not be quite right for her to leave the stage. True,
she belonged to Cloudy Mountain Camp where the conventions were
unknown and where a rough, if kind, comradery existed between the
miners and herself; nevertheless, she felt that she had gone far enough
with a new acquaintance, whose accent, as well as the timbre of his
voice, gave ample evidence that he belonged to another order of society
than her own and that of the boys. So, hard though it was not to accede
to his request and, at the same time, break the monotony of her journey
with a few minutes of berry-picking with him in the fields, she made no
move to leave the stage but answered the questioning look of the
obliging driver with a negative one. Whereupon, the latter, after
declaring to the young Californian that the stage was late as it was,
called to his horses to show what they could do in the way of getting
over the ground after their long rest.
The young man's face clouded with disappointment. For two