"You're not as sorry as I am. God knows, I want her."
Lopez was desperate by this time. "_Dios!_" he fairly yelled. "You
Americanos make me seek! I shall come 'ere and work like 'ell all day to
make you 'appy, and the best I get is zis!" In his despair, he broke into
Spanish: "_Per dios mio!_" Stupidity could go no farther! What fools these
youngsters were!
"I don't mean to be ungrateful," Gilbert explained.
There was silence for a moment. Lopez strode up and down the room like an
animal. He was hot and disgusted. What was the use, after all? Why didn't
this young fellow, who had proved himself so brave and so worthy, show
signs of the red blood in him? No Mexican would have acted like this--no
Latin. He would make him get his happiness, if he had to die in the
attempt. Suddenly a crafty look came into his eyes. He came straight toward
Gilbert and snapped his fingers in his face.
"Bah!" he cried.
But all the young ranchman said was, "I'm sorry. You don't understand our
ways."
"Shut up!" Lopez was genuinely infuriated now. "Ees no use for talk wiz
such fools. You make me seek! Such ideas! Not fit for ze child to 'ave! No
blood, no courage! Only ze liver what are white and ze soul what are
yellow.
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