Her face was pale and alarmed, and yet to the critical eye of Ezekiel it seemed to wear an expression of gratified relief.

She laughed faintly.
"Ef that's the kind o' ghost you hev about yer, it's a healthy one," drawled Ezekiel.

He turned and fixed his keen eyes on Rosita's face.

"I wonder what kind o' fruit grows on the cactus that he's so fond of ?" Either she had not seen the abstraction of the letter, or his acting was perfect, for she returned his look unwaveringly.

"The fruit, eh?
I have not comprehend." "Wa'al, I reckon I will," said Ezekiel.