The old Spaniard knew Jose too well to put much faith in any of his utterances, but, nevertheless, inspired by a vague hope that Pearl might have repented her decision and wearied of her bargain, he climbed the hill to Seagreave’s cabin the next afternoon to see her.

Harry had been sitting up longer than usual that day, and Jose and Pearl had helped him back to his couch in the inner room, where he now lay asleep, and Pearl had resumed her seat in the open door, where she sat gazing out at the wonderful panorama spread before her and idly enjoying the sight, the sound, the fragrance of early summer.  Blue ranges, an infinite succession of them, stretching away to an illimitable and expanding horizon, floating in faint pearl hazes, but the hills near at hand were vividly green, their varied monotony of tone broken here and there by great waves of pink and blue wild flowers.  Birds were flying from tree to tree, calling and singing, and there fell pleasantly upon Pearl’s ears the ripple and splash of the mountain brook.  The joy in her heart at Harry’s recovery mingled pleasantly with nature’s joy in her prodigal, flowering summer.

But all this harmonious blending of natural sounds and sights was broken by the sudden, harsh intrusion of human discord.  Hearing footsteps near at hand, Pearl turned quickly to see her father standing almost at her elbow.  Lean, gnarled, grizzled and thorny as ever, he was gazing searchingly at her from under his overhanging, bushy brows.

So unexpected was the sight of him that Pearl showed plainly her uncontrollable surprise, which, courageous as she was, was not without a faint touch of fear.  Her upper lip drew back from her teeth at the corners of the mouth and the frown so like his own darkened her brow.  Rising, she had sprung to the doorway, stretching her arms from post to post as if to prevent him from entering, and he, noting that unconscious attitude of protection for the one within, smiled sourly.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was harsh and so low that it was barely audible.

“No harm to you or him, either, so don’t be scared.  I got more important business in hand.  I didn’t come to quarrel with you, Pearl.  I came to talk to you like you were a sensible girl.”  He had been rolling a cigarette between his fingers, and now he lighted it, and for a moment watched the smoke wreaths drift upward.

“Patience takes most of the tricks in life, I’ve learned, so I waited until I heard that he was all right again”—­he jerked his thumb toward the cabin—­“and then I waited until you had time to think, and that’s all I’m here to ask you to do, my girl, think.”

Again he gazed deeply at her, nodding his head as if to emphasize his words.  Gallito could be impressive, even magnetic when he chose, and he chose now.

“I can think a-plenty,” returned Pearl curtly, “but what is it you want me to study about now?  If it’s about signing up with Sweeney, I can tell you once and forever that it’s no use.  You’re just wasting your breath.”