"So you see, Gallito," rousing herself from pleasant contemplation of
past triumphs, "it wasn't only a chance to hunt and prospect that
brought me. I heard from Bob Flick that José was still here and I see a
duty before me."

"She could not keep away from me," José rolled his eyes sentimentally.
"You see beneath that rough old jacket of her husband's which she wears
there beats a heart."

"I got some'p'n else that can beat and that's a fist." She stretched out
her arm and drew it back, gazing with pride at her great, swelling
muscles.

"But never me, who will tidy your cabin and cook half your meals for
you." He smiled ingratiatingly at Mrs. Thomas, who grew deeply pink
under his admiring smile. "Why do you not convert Saint Harry?"

"Harry's all right," she said. "You need convertin', he don't. I got an
idea that he's been right through the fiery furnace like them Bible boys
in their asbestos coats, he's smelted."

"Harry got my telegram?" asked Gallito, speaking in a low tone, after
first glancing toward Pearl, "and you have made a room ready for her?"

"Clean as a convent cell," said José, with his upcurling, mordant smile.
"The wind has roared through it all day and swept away every trace of
tobacco and my thoughts."

"That is well," replied Gallito with a sardonic twist of the mouth,
"and where do you sleep to-night?"