Flick. Then, as the meaning of their attitude flashed over her, she fell
back a pace or two, her face grown white. "Dios!" she murmured, with
stiff lips, a sob rising in her throat.

Then she tossed high her head in hot resentment. Her mouth was set in a
thin scarlet line of obstinacy, her eyes burned, but their expression
was unreadable. With a slow movement of her body, expressing infinite
scorn, she swung away from her father and her lover and, with her eyes
upon the far, blue ranges, superbly ignored them.

Bob Flick shot a warning glance at Gallito, who was about to speak, and
took a hasty step forward. "Look here, Pearl," he said conciliatingly,
"don't mind your Pop. The strain on him's been awful. It's been hard on
all of us. You sure gave us some terrible days, not knowing whether you
were alive or dead, but we all kind of figured from the direction that
the snow-slide took that it missed the cabin, and we wouldn't believe
anything else but that you were as much alive as ever and as anxious to
see us as we were to see you. And, Pearl, listen," striving to divert
her gaze from those dim, blue ranges, "we ain't been idle. There's some
great news for you. You tell her, Gallito."

"Yes," the Spaniard's tone softened a little and he lifted his head with
a touch of pride, "it sure is great news. I been in correspondence with
Sweeney and he opened up the matter of a contract again. I been
dickering with him just the same as if we knew that you were safe and
alive. I wouldn't let myself think anything else; and the result,
Pearl," he paused, his eyes scanning her face, "the result is that he's
just doubled his offer of last year and will play you over a circuit
twice as big, the cities only. How does that strike you?"