The tempest passed in a moment; it was not Concho's nature to suffer
long nor brood over an injury. As he raised his head again his eye
caught the shimmer of the quicksilver,--that pool of merry antic metal
that had so delighted him an hour before. In a few moments Concho was
again disporting with it; chasing it here and there, rolling it in his
palms and laughing with boy-like glee at its elusive freaks and fancies.
"Ah, sprightly one,--skipjack,--there thou goest,--come here. This
way,--now I have thee, little one,--come, muchacha,--come and kiss me,"
until he had quite forgotten the defection of his companions. And even
when he shouldered his sorry pack, he was fain to carry his playmate
away with him in his empty leathern flask.
And yet I fancy the sun looked kindly on him as he strode cheerily down
the black mountain side, and his step was none the less free nor light
that he carried with him neither the brilliant prospects nor the crime
of his late comrades.
CHAPTER III
WHO CLAIMED IT
The fog had already closed in on Monterey, and was now rolling, a white,
billowy sea above, that soon shut out the blue breakers below.
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