Wiles's right eye and bland face were turned toward the speaker, but
his malevolent left was glancing at the dull red-brown rock on the hill
side.

"No!"--and turning abruptly away, he proceeded to saddle his mule.

Manuel, Miguel, and Pedro, left to themselves, began talking earnestly
together, while Concho, now mindful of his crippled mule, made his way
back to the trail where he had left her. But she was no longer there.
Constant to her master through beatings and bullyings, she could not
stand incivility and inattention. There are certain qualities of the sex
that belong to all animated nature.

Inconsolable, footsore, and remorseful, Concho returned to the camp
and furnace, three miles across the rocky ridge. But what was his
astonishment on arriving to find the place deserted of man, mule,
and camp equipage. Concho called aloud. Only the echoing rocks grimly
answered him. Was it a trick? Concho tried to laugh. Ah--yes--a good
one,--a joke,--no--no--they HAD deserted him. And then poor Concho bowed
his head to the ground, and falling on his face, cried as if his honest
heart would break.

The tempest passed in a moment; it was not Concho's nature to suffer
long nor brood over an injury. As he raised his head again his eye
caught the shimmer of the quicksilver,--that pool of merry antic metal
that had so delighted him an hour before. In a few moments Concho was
again disporting with it; chasing it here and there, rolling it in his
palms and laughing with boy-like glee at its elusive freaks and fancies.
"Ah, sprightly one,--skipjack,--there thou goest,--come here. This
way,--now I have thee, little one,--come, muchacha,--come and kiss me,"