Then, straining upward from her small height, her rosy, false lips sought his and fastened there while he staggered as if drunk.

“There, heart o’ mine!” she panted. “Dost believe now? Or must I tell thee again that with such love as mine proud Dolores cannot hurt thee. Come! Such a chance will never come thy way again. Man! ‘Tis her confidence Dolores offers thee. Shall it go begging because of thy madness?”

“Pascherette!” returned Sancho hoarsely. “I will go with thee. But, girl, thy heart’s blood pours at first sign of treachery! Mark that well. And tell me now, does Yellow Rufe share in this mercy?”

“No, Sancho. It cannot be. Dolores has sworn to hunt him down; the woods are full