That little, inscrutable smile which so exasperated Applehead was on her lips while she watched him.
Ramon finished that cigarette, threw away the stab and rolled and lighted another.

Still Annie-Many-Ponies gave no little sign of her presence.

He watched the arroyo, and once he leaned to one side and stared back at his own quiet camp on the slope that had the biggest and the wildest mountain of that locality for its background.

He settled himself anew with his other shoulder against the rock, and muttered something in Spanish--that strange, musical talk which Annie-Many-Ponies could not understand.

And still she watched him, and exulted in his impatience for her coming, and wondered if it would always be lovelight which she would see in his eyes.
He was not of her race, though in her pride she thought him favored when she named him akin to the Sioux.