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The
manner
of
the
man
too
truly
betrayed
the
sincerity
of
his
speech
.
Coward
as
he
was
,
there
was
a
cold
cruel
determination
in
his
looks
,
whilst
his
hand
was
seen
straying
towards
the
hilt
of
his
macheté
.
Despite
her
Amazonian
courage
,
the
woman
could
not
help
a
feeling
of
uneasiness
.
She
saw
there
was
a
danger
,
with
but
slight
chance
of
averting
it
.
Something
of
this
she
had
felt
from
the
first
moment
of
the
encounter
;
but
she
had
been
sustained
by
the
hope
,
that
the
unpleasant
interview
might
be
interrupted
by
one
who
would
soon
change
its
character
.
During
the
early
part
of
the
dialogue
she
had
been
eagerly
listening
for
the
sound
of
a
horse
's
hoof
--
casting
occasional
and
furtive
glances
through
the
chapparal
,
in
the
direction
where
she
hoped
to
hear
it
.
This
hope
was
no
more
.
The
sight
of
her
own
letter
told
its
tale
:
it
had
not
reached
its
destination
.
Deprived
of
this
hope
--
hitherto
sustaining
her
--
she
next
thought
of
retreating
from
the
spot
.
But
this
too
presented
both
difficulties
and
dangers
.
It
was
possible
for
her
to
wheel
round
and
gallop
off
;
but
it
was
equally
possible
for
her
retreat
to
be
intercepted
by
a
bullet
.
The
butt
of
El
Coyote
's
pistol
was
as
near
to
his
hand
as
the
hilt
of
his
macheté
.
She
was
fully
aware
of
the
danger
.
Almost
any
other
woman
would
have
given
way
to
it
.
Not
so
Isidora
Covarubio
de
los
Llanos
.
She
did
not
even
show
signs
of
being
affected
by
it
.
"
Nonsense
!
"
she
exclaimed
,
answering
his
protestation
with
an
air
of
well
dissembled
incredulity
.
"
You
are
making
sport
of
me
,
Señor
.
You
wish
to
frighten
me
.
Ha
!
ha
!
ha
!
Why
should
I
fear
you
?
I
can
ride
as
well
--
fling
my
lazo
as
sure
and
far
as
you
,
Look
at
this
I
see
how
skilfully
I
can
handle
it
!
"
While
so
speaking
--
smiling
as
she
spoke
--
she
had
lifted
the
lazo
from
her
saddle-bow
and
was
winding
it
round
her
head
,
as
if
to
illustrate
her
observations
.
