"I reckon," said the woman, nodding her head, "and them that was with
me."

"And who are they?"

"Sheriff Dunn, of Yolo, and his deputy."

"And where are they now?"

"The deputy--in h-ll, I reckon; I don't know about the sheriff."

"I see," said the young man quietly; "and you?"

"I--got away," she said savagely. But she was taken with a sudden
nervous shiver, which she at once repressed by tightly dragging her
shawl over her shoulders and elbows, and folding her arms defiantly.

"And you're going?"

"To follow the deputy, may be," she said gloomily. "But come, I say,
ain't you going to treat? It's cursed cold here."

"Wait a moment." The young man was looking at her, with his arched brows
slightly knit and a half smile of curiosity. "Ain't you Teresa?"

She was prepared for the question, but evidently was not certain whether
she would reply defiantly or confidently. After an exhaustive scrutiny
of his face she chose the latter, and said, "You can bet your life on
it, Johnny."