“You vas good boy, just like I tink; I wear dis ol’ coat—­see; an’ den I turn up de skirt, so.  I no ’fraid de dirt.  Now, vat you say, senor? Bueno?”

Thus speaking, she seized upon the discarded and somewhat disreputable garment, flung it carelessly about her shapely shoulders, shrugging them coquettishly, her great eyes shyly uplifting to his relenting face, and began swiftly to fasten up her already short dress in disregard of the exposure of trim ankles.  The agitated Mr. Brown coughed, his uneasy glances straying down the open shaft.  He would gladly, and with extreme promptness, have shoved the cold muzzle of his Colt beneath the nose of any man at such moment of trial; but this young girl, with a glance and a laugh, had totally disarmed him.  Disturbed conscience, a feeling akin to disloyalty, pricked him, but the temptation left him powerless to resist—­those black eyes held him already captive; and yet in this moment of wavering indecision, that teasing hand once again rested lightly upon his shirt-sleeve.

“Please do dat, senor,” the voice low and pleading.  “It vas not ver’ mooch just to let a girl see your leetle mine.  What harm, senor?  But maybe it’s so because you no like me?”

Startled by so unjust a suspicion, the eyes of the young giant instantly revealed a degree of interest which caused her own to light up suddenly, her red lips parting in a quick, appreciative smile which disclosed the white teeth.

“Ah, I see it vas not dat.  Eet make glad de heart—­make eet to sing like de birds.  Now I know eet vill be as I vish.  How do I get down, senor?”

Thus easily driven from his last weak entrenchments, his heart fluttering to the seduction of her suggestive glance, the embarrassed Stutter made unconditional surrender, a gruff oath growling in his throat.  He leaned out over the dark shaft, his supporting hand on the drum.

“Come u-u-up, M-M-Mike,” he called, rattling his letters like castanets.  “I w-w-want to g-go d-d-down.”

There followed a sound of falling rocks below, a fierce shaking of the suspended rope, and then a muffled voice sang out an order, “H’ist away, and be dommed ter yer.”  Brown devoted himself assiduously to the creaking windlass, although never able entirely to remove his attention from that bright-robed, slender figure standing so closely at his side.  For one brief second he vaguely wondered if she could be a witch, and he looked furtively aside, only to perceive her bright eyes smiling happily at him.  Then suddenly a totally bald head shot up through the opening, a seamed face the color of parchment, with squinting gray eyes, peered suspiciously about, while a gnarled hand reached forth, grasped a post in support, and dragged out into the sunlight a short, sturdy body.  Mike straightened up, with a peculiar jerk, on the dump, spat viciously over the edge of the canyon, and drew a short, black pipe from out a convenient pocket in his shirt.  He made no audible comment, but stood, his back planted to the two watchers; and Stutter cleared his throat noisily.