you know. But, well, what does it matter, anyway? Oh, Pearl, girl! Don't
look at me like that. Don't!"

"I'll do worse than look at you, if you come any nearer me," she
threatened. "Do you think I ride all over the desert where I've a mind
to without protection? I guess not." She lifted her skirt with a quick
movement and drew a long knife, keen as a stiletto, from her boot.

Hanson went a little whiter, but he was no coward. "Come on then, finish
it for me," he said. "Your eyes are doing it anyway. Oh, Pearl!" he fell
again to desperate pleading, "you won't turn me down just for a
mistake?"

"Me, the Black Pearl, held cheap!" she muttered and raised her stag-like
head superbly, "and by you! You that pick up women and drop them when
you're tired of them. Me, the Black Pearl." She turned quickly and ran
to her waiting horse, loosening the tether with quick, nervous fingers.
Hanson followed her.

"Pearl, you ain't going to leave me?"

But she was already in the saddle.

He caught at her bridle and held her so. "Pearl, I made a mistake"--he
was talking wildly, rapidly--"but you ain't going to throw me down just
for that--you can't. Think how happy we've been this last week--think
how we've loved each other. Why, you can't turn me down, just for one
break, you can't."

"Can't I?" she said, her teeth still showing in that unpleasant way.