[Illustration: SHE GLIDED AND WHIRLED IN THE MOONLIGHT, GRACEFUL AS AWIND-BLOWN ROSE. _PAGE 284_]

 WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE

 BY

 RITTER BROWN AUTHOR OF "MAN'S BIRTHRIGHT"

 ILLUSTRATED BY W. M. BERGER

 New York Desmond FitzGerald, Inc. 

 Copyright, 1912 By Desmond FitzGerald, Inc. 

 TO MY SON

ILLUSTRATIONS

 "She glided and whirled in the moonlight, graceful as a wind-blown rose" _Frontispiece_ FACING PAGE "The picture which she presented was one he carried with him for many a day" 130

 "Instinctively he raised the casket with both hands" 272

 "'Madre! Madre _mia_!' she cried and flung herself into Chiquita's arms" 292

 "They were startled by a low moan and saw Blanch sink slowly to the bench" 330

 There is a tradition extant among the Indians of the Southwest, extending from Arizona to the Isthmus of Panama, to the effect that, Montezuma will one day return on the back of an eagle, wearing a golden crown, and rule the land once more; typifying the return of the Messiah and the rebirth and renewal of the race. 

WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE

I

The beauty of midsummer lay upon the land--the mountains and plains ofChihuahua. It was August, the month of melons and ripening corn. Highaloft in the pale blue vault of heaven, a solitary eagle soared in everwidening circles in its flight toward the sun. Far out upon the plainsthe lone wolf skulked among the sage and cactus in search of the rabbitand antelope, or lay panting in the scanty shade of the yucca. 

By most persons this little known land of the great Southwest isregarded as the one which God forgot. But to those who are familiar withits vast expanse of plain and horizon, its rugged sierras, its wilddesolate _mesas_ and solitary peaks of half-decayed mountains--its tawnystretches of desert marked with the occasional skeletons of animal andhuman remains--its golden wealth of sunshine and opalescent skies, andhave felt the brooding death-like silence which seems to hold as in aspell all things living as well as dead, this land becomes one ofmystery and enchantment--a mute witness of some unknown or forgottenpast when the children of men were young, whose secrets it stillwithholds, and with whose dust is mingled not only that of unnumberedand unknown generations of men, but that of Montezuma and the hardydaring _Conquistadores_ of old Spain. 

But whatever may be the general consensus of opinion concerning thisland, such at least was the light in which it was viewed by CaptainForest, as he and his Indian attendant, José, drew rein on the rim of abroken, wind-swept _mesa_ in the heart of the Chihuahuan desert, a fullday's ride from Santa Fé whither they were bound, to witness the_Fiesta_, the Feast of the Corn, which was celebrated annually at thisseason. 

The point where they halted commanded a sweeping view of the surroundingcountry. Just opposite, some five leagues distant, on the farther sideof the valley which lay below them, towered the sharp ragged crest ofthe Mexican Sierras; their sides and foothills clothed in a thin growthof chaparral, pine and juniper and other low-growing bushes. Deep, rugged _arroyos_, the work of the rain and mountain torrents, cut andscarred the foothills which descended in precipitous slopes to thevalley and plains below. Solitary giant cactus dotted the landscape, adding to the general desolation of the scene, relieved only by theglitter of the silvery sage, white poppy and yucca, and yellow andscarlet cactus bloom which glistened in the slanting rays of theafternoon sun and the intense radiation of heat in which was mirroredthe distant mirage; transforming the desert into wonderful lakes oflimpid waters that faded in turn on the ever receding horizon. 

Below them numerous Indian encampments of some half-wild hill tribestraggled along the banks of the almost dry stream which wound throughthe valley until lost in the thirsty sands of the desert beyond. 

"'Tis the very spot, _Capitan_--the place of the skull!" ejaculatedJosé, the first to break the silence. "See--yonder it lies just as weleft it!" and he pointed toward the foot of the _mesa_ where a springtrickled from the rock, a short distance from which lay a human skullbleached white by long exposure to the sun. 

Instinctively the Captain's thoughts reverted to the incidents of theprevious year when he lay in the desert sick unto death with fever andhis horse, Starlight, had stood over his prostrate body and fought thewolves and vultures for a whole day and night until José returned withhelp from the Indian _pueblo_, La Guna. Involuntarily his hand slippedcaressingly to the animal's neck, a chestnut with four white feet and awhite mane and tail that swept the ground and a forelock that hung tohis nostrils, concealing the star on his forehead; a magnificent animal, lithe and graceful as a lady's silken scarf, untiring and enduring as aDamascus blade. A horse that comes but once during twenty generations ofSpanish-Arabian stock, and then is rare, and which, through some trickof nature or reversion, blossoms forth in all the beauty of an originaltype, taking upon himself the color and markings of some shy, wild-eyeddam, the pride of the Bedouin tribe and is known as the "Pearl of theDesert. " The type of horse that bore Alexander and Jenghis Khan and theProphet's War Chieftains to victory. As a colt he had escaped the_rodeo_. No mark of the branding-irons scarred his shoulder or thintransparent flanks. Again the Captain's thoughts traveled backward andhe beheld a band of wild horses driven past him in review by a troup ofMexican _vaqueros_, and the beautiful chestnut stallion emerge from thecloud of dust on their rim and tossing his great white mane in thebreeze, neigh loudly and defiantly as he swept by lithe and supple oflimb. 

"Bring me that horse!" he had cried. 

"That horse? _José y Maria, Capitan!_ He cannot be broken. Besides, itwill take ten men to tie him. "

"Then let ten men tie him!" he had replied, flinging a handful of goldeneagles among them. 

Many attempts had been made to steal the Arab since he had come into theCaptain's possession. It was a dangerous undertaking, for the horse hadthe naïve habit of relegating man to his proper place, either byignoring his presence, or by quietly kicking him into eternity with thesame indifference that he would switch a fly with his tail. José mightfeed and groom and saddle him, but not mount him. To one only would hesubmit; to him to whom a common destiny had linked him--his master. 

"_Sangre de Dios, Capitan!_" began José again, breaking in upon thelatter's musings. "Is it not better that we rest yonder by the springthan sit here in this infernal sun, gazing at nothing? 'Tis hot as thebreath of hell where the Padres tell us all heretics will go afterdeath!" The grim expression of the Captain's face relaxed for a momentand he turned toward him with a laugh. 

"Aye, who knows, " he replied, "we too, may go there some day, " anddismounting, he began to loosen his saddle girths. 

"The gods forbid!" answered José, making the sign of the cross, as if toward off the influence of some evil spell. "I do not understand you_Americanos_, " he continued, also dismounting and untying a small packat the back of his saddle. "You are strange--you are ever gay when youshould be sober. You laugh at the gods and the saints and frown at the_corridos_, and yet toss alms to the most worthless beggar. "

The foregoing conversation was carried on in Spanish. Although José hadacquired a liberal smattering of English during his service with theCaptain, he nevertheless detested it; obstinately adhering to Spanishwhich, though only his mother-tongue by adoption, was in his estimationat least a language for _Caballeros_. 

The two men were superb specimens of their respective races. Theirrugged appearance, height and breadth of shoulder would have attractedattention anywhere. The Captain wore a gray felt hat and a rough graysuit of tweed--his trousers tucked in his long riding boots. José wasclad in the typical _vaquero's_ costume--buff leggins and jacket ofgoat-skin, slashed and ornamented with silver threads and buttons, and ared worsted sash about his middle in which he carried a knife andpistol. From beneath the broad brim of his _sombrero_ peeped the knot ofthe yellow silken kerchief which he wore bound about his head and underwhich lay coiled his long black hair. 

Captain Forest was unusually tall and stalwart, deep chested and robustin appearance, with not a superfluous ounce of flesh on his body, hardened by the rigors of long months of camp-life. His head was largeand shapely, well poised and carried high on a full neck that sprangfrom the great breadth of his shoulders. His face, smooth and sensitive, and large and regular in feature with high cheek-bones and slightlyhollowed cheeks, was bronzed by long exposure to the sun and weather, adding to the ruggedness of his appearance. The high arching forehead, acquiline nose and firm set mouth and chin denoted alertness, action anddecision, while from his eyes, large and dark and piercing, shone thatstrange light so characteristic of the dreamer and genius. And yet, inspite of this alertness of mind and body and general appearance ofstrength and power which his presence inspired, there lurked about himan air of repose indicative of confidence in self and the full knowledgeof his powers. Sensitive to a degree, keen and alive at all times, thestrength of his personality, suggestive of his mastery over men, impressed the most unobservant. Yet owing to his poise and self-controlthose about him did not realize wholly his power until such moments whenjustice was violated. Then the latent force within him asserted itselfand he became as inexorable as a law of nature in his demands. Anintense spirit of democracy oddly combined with fastidiousness made anunusual and attractive personality in which the mundane and thespiritual were strangely blended. Outwardly he was a man of the world, yet inwardly he had advanced so far into the domain of sheerspirituality he scarcely realized that others groped their way among themost obvious material modes of expression. 

Having removed their saddles and turned their horses loose to find whatscant cropping the desert afforded, the two sought the shelter of thenarrow strip of shade beside the spring at the foot of the _mesa_. Herethey would rest until the heat of the day had passed, resuming theirjourney that evening. José unwound his _zerape_ from his shoulders andspreading it on the ground between them, deposited two tin cups and apackage of sandwiches upon it which, with the addition of a flask of_aguardiente_ which the Captain drew from his pocket, formed their meal. 

Two years previous the Captain had rescued his companion from a streetmob in Hermosillo, the result of a feud that had broken out between hercitizens and the Yaqui Indians; José having been mistaken for one of thelatter. With his back against a wall and the blood streaming from hiswounds, he was making a desperate stand. Three citizens who had run uponhis knife, lay squirming at his feet; but the odds were too great. Inanother moment all would have been over with him had it not been for theCaptain who chanced upon him in the nick of time. Snatching a club fromone of his assailants and accompanying each blow with a volley ofSpanish oaths, he rushed through the mob, scattering it in alldirections. Whether it was the oaths or the Captain's exhibition of hisfighting qualities that impressed José most it is difficult to say. Bethat as it may, from that hour he belonged to Captain Forest body andsoul. He was the grand señor, the _Hidalgo_, in comparison to whomother men were as nothing. 

The meal over, José with head and shoulders on one end of the _zerape_, stretched himself at full length upon the ground and, as was his wont, fell asleep almost immediately. Captain Forest swallowed a last draughtof liquor. Then leisurely rolling a cigarette he lit it, and with backagainst the cliff and gaze fixed abstractedly on the mountains opposite, smoked in silence. 

II

Jack Forest's life was rich and full to overflowing with the things ofthis world which are generally considered to make for happiness andculture. Into the measure of his life, the comparatively short span ofthirty-five years, had been crowded a wealth of incident and experiencethat seldom falls to the lot of the most fortunate men in thiscommercialized era whose tendency is to pull nations like individualsdown to a common level of mediocrity, and seems bent upon extinguishingeven their few remaining national traits and characteristics. 

Born in Washington and a graduate of Harvard, he had traveled to thefour corners of the earth, and hunted big game from the arctic circle tothe equator. During a winter's sojourn in Egypt he made the acquaintanceof Lord X----, then Consul-General of Egypt, upon whose advice heentered the diplomatic service of his country. Five years weresubsequently spent as first Secretary of the American legations inLondon and St. Petersburg. The enthusiasm with which he threw himselfinto the work and the natural executive ability which he displayed soonmarked him as a coming man in diplomatic circles. But the speculationsof his friends concerning his future career were destined to be rudelyshattered by one of those inexplicable tricks of fate which, in thetwinkling of an eye, so often change the lives of individuals. 

The spirit of adventure which had lain dormant within him ever since hisdecision to adopt diplomacy as a profession was suddenly awakened by theoutbreak of hostilities between Spain and the United States. Through theinfluence of his father, General Forest, a Civil War veteran, and thatof his uncle, Colonel Van Ashton, retired, he received the appointmentof Second Lieutenant of Volunteers and shipped with his regiment forCuba. He was wounded at the battle of Santiago, though not seriously. Atthe close of the campaign in the West Indies his regiment was ordered tothe Philippines, where, at the end of a year, he was promoted to acaptaincy in the regular army. At this juncture in his career the suddendeath of his father necessitated his return to America on leave ofabsence. 

The estate to which he and his mother fell heirs was an unusually largeone, the administration of which demanded his immediate and entireattention if they wished to keep their holdings intact. But as this wasclearly incompatible to the life of a soldier, he was forced to resignfrom the army. He took this step without great reluctance, for briefthough his career as a soldier had been, it was a brilliant andsatisfactory one. It was not for the glory of the profession that he hadentered the army, but purely in the spirit of the patriot; and he hadfought his battles and returned with newly won laurels and a fund ofinteresting experiences. Besides, campaigning in the Philippines hadconvinced him that diplomacy, though perhaps not always so exciting, was preferable to a life whose daily routine was enlivened only bytarget practice, dress-parades and the occasional diversion of chasingnaked men about in the bush. 

As soon as the estate was settled it was his intention to reënter thediplomatic service for which he knew himself to be better fitted thanbefore his two years experience in the army. 

The bulk of the fortune consisted of mines in Mexico, whither he wascalled to superintend his interests. At the end of a year, however, hereceived word from his uncle informing him that the Ministry to Greecewould be open to him if he chose to accept it. Jubilant over theprospect of reëntering the world of Diplomacy so soon, he immediatelytelegraphed his acceptance, and the following day addressed a letter tothe girl he had known from his youth, Blanch Lennox, whose character, personal charm and ambition marked her as the one to share the futurewith him. There was as little doubt in his mind that she would accepthim, as there was in hers that he would make the proposal; and when aweek later, he received a telegram confirming his conjecture, the answercame as a matter of course. 

The business at the mines was settled, but Mexico and her people were anew experience. Its vast expanse of plains, virgin forests and wildsierras lured him on; and in the company of a friend whose acquaintancehe had made at the mines, he passed the remaining time left at hisdisposal traveling in the interior of the country, gathering data andvisiting the wild tribes who, though of the same blood, were incharacteristics a distinct people from the slavish _peon_ classes. Apeople that have never actually submitted to the rule of the White man, and have held tenaciously to the ancient beliefs and customs of theirforefathers. 

He was impressed by the fact that, although living entirely independentof the outside world, they were nevertheless self-supporting and incertain instances had developed marked degrees of civilization. 

He saw how they tended their flocks and fields, made their own clothesand articles of use, and wrought gold and silver ornaments embellishedwith native stones, and used the bow and arrow in the chase. They knewnothing of modern civilization. Their daily lives were sufficient untothem, and they were therefore happy. God seemed infinite and dwelt intheir midst, and spoke to them from the dust as well as from the stars. But why was this? Why was life for them, in the natural course ofevents, so easy and simple, and so difficult and complicated for thecivilized man?

His thoughts continually traveled back to the Eskimo of the frozenNorth, and to Africa and her sun-parched deserts and star-strewn skieswith the roaming Bedouin in the background who regarded the earth as afootstool to be used only as a means to an end and houses as habitationsfit only for slaves. 

The picture he saw was not the ideal one--the emancipated man of whommen of all times have dreamed and to whose advent some men are stilllooking forward. But the care-free life of the primitive man set himthinking--opened his eyes to certain truths which, until now, he hadfailed to observe. Longings for the unattainable began to stir withinhim and take hold of him in a manner entirely new. Hazy, fragmentaryglimpses of hitherto undreamed possibilities began to shape themselvesin his mind. The immensity and profundity of the universe and themysterious growth of its hidden life held and enthralled him. 

The last word, he felt, had not yet been spoken. There was somethinglacking in the so-called civilized man's economy--a lack which hisphilosophy failed to account for, but which was not observable amonganimals and primitive men. There, the economy of the infinite cosmicmechanism which binds and holds all manifestations of life in oneharmonious whole was too apparent to even suggest the detachment of asingle form of life from this whole, but with the civilized man it wasdifferent. He alone seemed to have detached himself from this harmoniouswhole--his life stood out as a thing separate and apart from it. Thereseemed to be no permanent place for him in the economy of nature. 

But how had this estrangement taken place? Why was he, theintellectually developed man, incapable of living in harmony with theuniversal law of life when it was so easy for the primitive man to doso? It was evident that he had lost his way somewhere along the path ofnormal development. Everything pointed to this--its signs were apparentto all who wished to see. Nature voiced it on every hand, in the forestsand plains and on the mountain tops, and during the silence of night ashe lay on the ground gazing at the stars overhead. 

The wind that sighed among the ruined temples of the ancient races andthe mountains that looked down upon them seemed to speak to him in theever recurring refrain: "Behold the works and glories of men--we areenduring! The same wind that sighs among them this day, sang to themwhen their walls and pillars stood erect. The same mountains thatshadowed them in the past, will still stand guard over the valleys inthe days to come when the works of the present and future generations ofmen have passed away forever!"

He knew that these questions had been asked during countlessgenerations, and that men were still asking them to-day. He knew alsothat man's situation in the universe was taking on a new aspect, and yetit was strange that such thoughts should absorb him, a man of the world, of the fighting type, whose wide experience with men and things hadhitherto convinced him that the world, though not perfect, wasgood--that present progress made for good, and the best westerncivilization had thus far attained was probably about all men of thefuture could look forward to so far as happiness was concerned. Theseviews, however, were no longer tenable if our arts, philosophies andscientific attainments fail to civilize and refine us. Clearly, modernman's conception of ethical progress was as deficient in certainrespects as that of the great historic civilizations. The secret ofright living had not yet been discovered. History proved this, andunless the trend of modern materialistic tendencies was supplanted bysomething higher, the same fate that overtook the Ancients mustinevitably overtake us. 

But the date of their wedding had been set, and the time for theirdeparture for Athens was drawing nearer. Santa Fé lay a day's ride fromthe railroad. Instead of performing the journey in a single ride, hedecided to pass the night at the _hacienda_ of a friend, Don Felix deTovar, some twelve miles distant from the old Spanish town. Thither hewould ride during the cool of the evening, completing the remainder ofthe journey the following day. Between Santa Fé and Don Felix's_hacienda_ lay the Indian _pueblo_, La Jara, situated some distance offthe main road. By following the trail that led past this village, Joséexplained, they would reduce the distance to Don Felix's _rancho_ by atleast two or three miles. 

The country through which they traveled was broken and rugged. Twilighthad descended upon the land, and as the two, following the trail thatskirted the foothills, rode to the crest of the _mesa_ upon which thevillage was situated, they came suddenly upon a woman riding at fullgallop. The soft, sandy formation of the soil was such that neitherheard the approach of the other, and all three reined in their horseswith a jerk; the woman throwing hers well back upon its haunches; ahigh-strung, black, wiry animal whose foam-flecked mouth and breast toldthat she had been riding hard. 

How free and wild she looked! She was either a Spaniard or an Indian, and rode astride. A bunch of red berries adorned her heavy black hairwhich fell in masses about her shoulders, accentuating the curve of herthroat and well-formed, clear-cut features just discernible in thewaning light as she sat motionless and erect on her horse, gazing athim in silence and evidently as much surprised as he was by their suddenencounter. Then with a smile and a nod of the head by way ofacknowledgment, she lifted her reins and spurred past him; disappearingin the gathering darkness on the trail below them. Her unexpectedappearance and grace and type of beauty, so different from that of thewoman who occupied his thoughts, thrilled him for the moment as helistened to the soft, muffled hoof-beats of her horse which grew fainterand fainter until all was silence, save for the sighing of the windamong the _mesquit_ and _manzanita_ bushes that grew about them. Alltrace of her was gone. She had vanished into the night as swiftly as shehad come. 

Then a strange thing happened. Something suddenly gripped his heart;that indefinable something after which he had been groping and which hadbeen knocking so persistently at the portals of his inmost being, butwhich until now had eluded him. The sight of that strange woman hadshown him that, to be beautiful is to be free and natural. That theworld he knew and revered was purely an artificial world of man'sinvention, transitory and a thing apart from the universal life in themidst of which he had been placed and apart from which it was impossiblefor him to develop naturally. That nature is more perfect than all theartificialities of civilization and a more efficient environment for thenormal development of man. That man's happiness and true relationship tothe universe were attainable only through direct contact and communionwith this life whose creations are the only great and lastingrealities. Thus only was it possible for him to quicken and vitalizehis powers to their fullest. That when creation finished its task, peaceand harmony reigned in the midst of the terrestrial garden, renderingman's pursuit of happiness through diverse acts and infinite forms ofdiversion quite unnecessary. 

He had discovered the wild man's secret--why the stars still sing to himas of yore--why the winds and the waters, the animals and the rocks andthe trees still speak to him in harmonies long since forgotten bycivilized man. A great and secret joy, such as he had never beforeexperienced, filled his soul; uplifting, consuming and mastering him. .. . But what would Blanch Lennox say? She with whose inner life he felt inperfect accord? She who was his ideal, the inspiration of his eageryouth and well-spring of his ambitions of later years? The woman whoalways met his problems with quick sympathy and comprehending interest?Could she understand him now, sympathize with his new views of life? Heknew a battle royal would ensue between them, but felt confident of hispower to convince her. He found, however, upon his return to Newportwhere she awaited him, that he had reckoned without his host. Sheattributed his enthusiasm and changed convictions to his ardent love ofnature and the roving spirit that animated him, but could not beconvinced that the world of society in which she moved and shone and forwhose adulation she lived, was the lesser world. She refused torelinquish their present life so full of the things of this world, theonly realities which she knew or recognized, for some vagueuncertainty. Surely the _wanderlust_, the love of the primitive, hadgotten into his blood!

At first she laughed scornfully, then hysterically. 

"Was he mad to suggest such folly--imagine that she could even dream ofparticipating in such a life? He might give up the ambition of alifetime, fling aside a brilliant career to follow the path of his madfancy if he chose, but she would not be a partner to his folly!"

Again he noted her set lips and the pallor that succeeded the flush onher cheeks after her first furious outburst. Again he saw her as sherose, pale and trembling, her eyes blazing. 

"And you dare come to me with this after all the years I have waited foryou? Go back to your deserts--your wild woman and her land of savages!"she had cried in a voice of suppressed indignation and contempt. Afterall he could not blame her, knowing as he did the world in which she hadbeen reared. She was right. And yet, as he sat there in the desert withhis back to the cliff and smoked in silence, living over again thepoignant memories of the past, the bitterness he experienced at themoment was even keener than on that memorable night when they hadparted. 

Could he ever forget her? The memory of that night clung to him in spiteof every effort to banish it from his mind. 

Above them shone the stars, golden as the apples of Hesperides. He heardagain the rhythmic sound of the sea and the plashing of the fountainnear at hand, and noted the rose petals which the breeze had shaken fromthe bushes to the path where they stood; filling the soft night airwith their fragrance, and she, with the white moonlight in her face andthe pink rose in the golden wreath of her hair, fair as the woman ofEden. 

The vision passed before him in kaleidoscopic review, warm and livingand tempting and haunting, and then faded from his sight. 

The shadows of evening began to lengthen. Close at hand a lizard thathad been sunning itself all day against the cliff raised its head for aninstant, then slipped noiselessly away with the shadows into a crevicein the rock. The Indian camp-fires flickered in the valley below, theirslender, ghostlike columns of smoke, rising heavenward straight as theflight of a flock of cranes, floated away in a pale, blue white cloud onthe evening. The soft, plaintive notes of the night-hawk and prairie-owlmingled with the prolonged cry of the wolf in the distant foothills. Thenight breeze sprang up, fanning the parched desert with its cool breath. The stars came forth and the silver rim of the moon emerged above thedark towering mass of the Sierra Madres, outlining their crests inbroken silvery lines as its full white disk swept into view; floodingthe valley and plains with strange ethereal light. 

José's sleep seemed troubled. He moved uneasily and mutteredincoherently. 

Where was she now--what was she doing? The woman he still loved in spiteof himself? And whither was he drifting--what was the real end in view?What subtle, irresistible influence was it that impelled him to take thestep, sacrifice all that men prize and hold dear? During such momentshe questioned the seemingly blind destiny by which he felt himselfimpelled. A thousand miles he had ridden in search of the realization ofhis dreams, but had not found it. That which at first had lured him on, now seemed to mock him. The vision that beckoned to him still maintaineda sphinx-like attitude toward his questioning. 

Where was the new life he had promised himself? Was it only a vision hehad conjured up in his mind? Either he had overlooked something in hiscalculations, or his logic was at fault. 

Was this all? Had the human race attained its zenith--was there nothingbeyond, nothing to look forward to, and he merely the latest dreamer andenthusiast who was pursuing the same will-o'-the-wisp that others hadsought through the ages? If so, then what fatality was it thatencompassed him and continually urged him on? Doubt counseled him toreturn, but pride and confidence in self still cried forward. Come whatwould, he either must go on to the end or accept the humiliation thatawaits him who turns back. But why was the realization withheld from oneso willing--from one who had dared face the world alone?

For the first time the loneliness and isolation of his life was borne inupon him as he reviewed the past, step by step, and thought of the womanhe had chosen to share the future with him and whom it was impossible todisassociate from his plans. 

Fortune seemed to have deserted him. A sudden revulsion and sickeningsense of failure swept over him, crushing and overwhelming him. Wouldthe voices never break silence? Must he forever ride alone with the sunin his face? Save for a cricket that chirped dreamily in a cleft of therock close at hand, and the distant, subdued sounds of voices andbarking of dogs in the Indian camps below him, there was no response tohis query. 

Strange that he, Jack Forest, the possessor of twenty millions, theassociate of the great people of this world, and who was never referredto by his family and friends as other than the Magnificent, the man whodid things, should find himself in the heart of the Mexican desertsapparently as far from his goal as when he started. It was incredible, but true, nevertheless. For was he not there in the midst of thewilderness with the scent of the sage in his nostrils and the alkalidust on his boots?

He closed his eyes and let his head sink forward on his breast, weariedby the oft-repeated endeavor to solve that which was fast becoming ariddle, a chimera to him, and he probably would have fallen asleep hadhe not been startled suddenly into a consciousness of his surroundingsby a low whinny; soft and plaintive as a child's voice. Looking up, hesaw Starlight standing before him with ears erect and pointed forward, gazing inquiringly into his face. 

Again the Chestnut whinnied, and lowering his head, caressed hisshoulder affectionately with his nose. Then raising his head, he beganto paw the ground impatiently, indicating as plainly as words that itwas time to resume their journey. 

The night wind sighed across the desert and there was a chill in theair as the moon mounted higher in the heavens; an ideal night fortravel. José awoke with a start and sitting bolt upright on the ground, gazed about him with a dazed, bewildered air, trying to collect hisscattered senses. 

"_Capitan!_" he cried, regarding him intently. "I have just dreamt thatthe shadow of a man came between you and a woman! I can't see theirfaces, but they are there!"

"Bah!" returned the Captain, rising to his feet and stretching wide hisarms, preparatory to saddling his horse. "'Tis only the _aguardiente_, José!"

"Ah! do not jest, _Capitan_! Three times have I dreamed this dream--theshadow comes ever nearer!"

III

The _Fiesta_, the "Feast of the Corn, " had been declared, and there wasdancing and feasting, and song and laughter on the lips of men asCaptain Forest and José rode into Santa Fé late the following morningand turned their horses' heads in the direction of the _Posada de lasEstrellas_, the Inn of the Stars, which was situated just outside theprincipal entrance to the town. 

The low gray adobe walls of the houses fronting directly upon the narrowwinding streets leading to and from the plaza were gay with the blossomsof the pink and scarlet geranium, honeysuckle, and gorgeous magenta ofthe bougainvilléa and golden cups of the trumpet-vine. 

Pigeons fluttered from the house-tops to the streets, or hovered aboutthe plaza and bosky _alamedas_ of poplar, pepper and eucalyptus trees insearch of stray grains of corn. Humming-birds and butterflies flashedtheir wings and gorgeous plumage in the sunshine as they darted in andout among the foliage in the _patios_ and gardens at the rear of thehouses, luxuriant with fruit and flowers as was attested by the orangeand lemon, pomegranate and fig trees, heavy with ripening fruit and thedelicately mingled perfume of orange and lemon blossoms, hyacinth, jasmine and Castilian rose. 

Through the center of the town, beneath the walls of the half-ruinedconvent, flowed the little river, Santa Maria, at whose banks younggirls and women were wont to wash their linen and beat it out on thelarge, smooth stones which lay strewn along the water's edge. The notesof the wood-dove and oriole mingling with the silvery voice of theriver, fell in rhythmical cadences upon the ears of the inhabitants whorested in the shady seclusion of their _patios_ and gardens during thehour of the _siesta_; rolling and smoking _cigarillos_ as they leisurelydiscussed the latest bit of news or gossip over their black coffee, _mescal_ and _tequila_, or engaged in a game of _moles_. 

There had been much rain that season, the best of reasons why the peopleshould give thanks to the heavens and the fields receive the blessing ofthe Church as well as that of the gods of the _Indios_ at whose altarsthe Red men still worship and upon which still is written "blood forblood, " as in the days when the White men first came from the South, bearing the fire and thunderbolts of heaven with which they overthrewthem. This was in fulfillment of the curse which the people had broughtupon themselves. The fate which their ancient Sachems had foretold wouldovertake them in those days when they should forget the commands of thegods and neglect the land, and the hand of brother be lifted againstbrother until the coming of a Fair Child with a face like the sun untowhose words all men would hearken and their hearts be united in love. 

According to custom, runners had been sent forth to the north, east, south and west to proclaim the annual _Fiesta_. For this ceremony thechoicest ears were selected from the new harvest, and, after beingborne aloft in the procession that took place during the benediction ofthe fields, were placed in the churches where they remained until thefollowing year. The golden ears represented the sunrise, the red, thesunset, the blue, the sky, the white, the clouds, and all together, their Mother, the Earth, from which they sprang. 

As the season for rejoicing drew near, the _rancheros_ of theneighboring _haciendas_, together with the Indians of the distant_pueblos_ and half-wild hill tribes, chance strangers and adventurers, streamed toward Santa Fé and swarmed within her walls; some eager fortrade and barter, but most of them bent upon pleasure. Her streets andplazas became a surging mass of struggling humanity, bright with the gaycostumes of men and women. In her market-booths were displayedinnumerable commodities; animals, fruit, vegetables, fowl--flowers, goldfish, caged finches, canaries--jewelry, rugs, stamped leathers anddrawn-linen work--bright cloths, blankets, baskets and pottery--wines, laces, silks, satins, cigarettes and cigars. 

Bidding was brisk and at times vehement, but always good humored. Sellers of lottery-tickets, writers of love-letters, jugglers andmountebanks plied their trades. The cries of the water-carrier andvender of sweet-meats mingled with those of the inevitable beggar whoasked alms for the love of God; invoking blessings or curses upon thehead of him who gave or refused him a _centavo_. Babel reigned. Donkiesbrayed, geese and turkeys hissed and gobbled, chickens cackled andfighting-cocks, tethered by the leg, strutted and crowed, while brownchildren of all sizes and ages laughed and screamed as they chased oneanother in and out among the crowds or rolled in the dust beneath thepedestrian's feet. 

Old Santa Fé, christened by the early Franciscan Friars, "City of theBlessed Faith, " but in reality a fair wanton, a veritable Sodom andGomorrha of iniquity with her _corridos_, her cock-pits and dance andgambling-halls, threw wide her gates and bade the stranger welcome; andif he did not receive the worth of his gold in pleasure and substance, surely it was no fault of Santa Fé's. Besides, it was only a step from agaming-table to a Father Confessor. 

The soul of old Spain still lived in the land. The click of castanetteswas heard daily in her plazas and streets where the _fandango_ and_jotta_ were gayly danced; while at night the soft sounds of guitars andvoices issued from out the deep shadow of her walls. Soft hands drew thelatches of casements, and slender figures stepped out upon moonlitbalconies or beneath purple black heavens studded with myriads of goldenstars, and passionate words and vows were exchanged under the cover ofnight. 

Having passed the day at the Inn of the Stars, where they had beenresting after the fatigues of the long night's ride, the Captain andJosé again directed their steps toward the town in the cool of theevening; José making for Pedro Romero's gambling-hall, the Captain forCarlos Moreno's theater, the _Theatro Mexicano_. 

Owing to the tardiness of his arrival, he found the house packed to thedoors. The performance, vaudeville in character, had already begun, andit was only after much elbowing and crowding that he finally succeededin making his way to Carlos' private box where the latter awaited him. 

A tall, dark woman had just ceased dancing, and as she paused before thefootlights amid a burst of musical accompaniment, the audience with oneimpulse rose to its feet and gave vent to prolonged salvos of applause. Showers of glittering gold and silver coins, bouquets and wreaths offlowers were flung upon the stage, burying her feet in a wealth andsuffusion of color as she stood smiling and bowing before the audience, vainly endeavoring to still the tumultuous applause which continued withdeafening uproar until she consented to repeat the performance. 

"Delicious--divine--'tis the Chiquita, _amigo mio_!" cried Carlos;pausing in the midst of his _vivas_ to greet the Captain. 

"You shall know her and fall in love with her like all the rest of theworld--" but his speech was cut short by a fresh burst of applause fromthe audience. The floral tributes that had been showered upon her werehastily removed to one side of the stage and piled high against thewings. The musicians struck up their accompaniment and the dance beganagain. 

It was evident that she was a favorite of the audience which perhapspartially accounted for the remarkable demonstration with which herperformance was received. But be this as it may, Captain Forest feltthat he had never witnessed such a remarkable exhibition of subtle graceand beauty and extraordinary execution and dash as she displayed in thedance. He recalled the names of the famous dancers he had known, butnone of them had risen to such heights--succeeded in vitalizing andinspiring their art with so much poetry and life. 

To all appearance she was either Spanish or of Indian extraction, andyet there was a foreign touch about her that seemed to set her apartfrom the women of Santa Fé. 

Who was she, this unknown genius, this master of the terpsichorean art, living in this far away Mexican town? Such talent could not remain inobscurity for long. Another great Spanish dancer was about to burstunheralded upon the world. It only remained for her to dance into it--tocaptivate and conquer it. 

This then, was the surprise Carlos had promised him if he came to thetheater that evening. His curiosity was aroused, and he turned to himfor an explanation, but he was no longer by his side; he had rushedbehind the scenes to felicitate the dancer on her remarkable success. 

The air was hot and stifling, and not caring to witness the remainingnumbers on the programme, he took advantage of the intermission thatfollowed the dance and left the theater. 

Outside the air was deliciously cool. The moonlight and myriads ofartificial lights strung across the streets and on the façades of thehouses, together with the flaming torches in front of the many booths, lent the appearance of day to night as he slowly made his way throughthe surging crowds in the direction of Pedro Romero's gambling-hallwhere Carlos had agreed to join him after the performance. 

Pedro's establishment was the chief and only respectable place of itskind of which the town could boast. It was the resort of the betterelement of Santa Fé, and if one were looking for a friend oracquaintance, he was usually to be found there. The hall was spaciousand well lighted with electricity and resplendent in gilt and mirrors. 

The gay strains of a string band enlivened the scene as he entered. Clouds of tobacco smoke hung over the throngs that crowded round thegaming-tables to try their luck with the Goddess Chance. 

José was playing roulette, and judging by the satisfied expression ofhis face which the Captain noted in passing, he rightly conjectured thatluck was on his side. 

Like Carlos, Pedro had taken a great fancy to the Captain, and hadgenerously placed his private stock of wines and cigars at the latter'sdisposal. Many an evening had the three passed together smoking anddrinking and chatting; Pedro and Carlos listening with rapt attention tothe Captain's anecdotes and adventures of which he seemed to possess aninexhaustible store. The hall was greatly overcrowded, rendering itdifficult to find an acquaintance, but as the Captain paused in themidst of the tables in order to obtain a better view of the faces abouthim, he felt a touch on the shoulder from behind and turning, saw Pedro, the object of his search. 

"_Por Dios!_ but I'm glad to see you again, _amigo_!" exclaimed theproprietor, a dark little man with a kindly face pitted by the smallpox. He grasped and shook the Captain warmly by the hand. 

"How are you--when did you return?" he inquired; leading him to a tablein one corner of the hall around which were seated a number of hisfriends who, on the appearance of the Captain, rose and greeted himeffusively. 

"_Mozo--mozo!_" shouted Pedro to the waiter, "a glass for the Captain!"

The others also had been to the theater, and like him, had left duringthe intermission following the dance. Naturally the dancer formed thesole topic of conversation. 

"Had the Señor _Capitan_ seen the Chiquita--had he ever seen suchdancing before--what did he think of her?" And by the time Carlosappeared on the scene, all agreed that the latter's fortune wasmade--that he would soon desert the sleepy old town for a tour of theworld with his newly found star of the footlights. 

"A tour of the world--with the Chiquita?" echoed Carlos, a fat, broad-shouldered little man of mixed blood, pausing and pulling back achair in the act of seating himself at the table. 

"_Dios!_ if such a thing were possible, " he exclaimed, pushing his haton the back of his head and surveying his companions with critical eyes, "I would not exchange it for the richest gold mine in Mexico! But, " headded, seating himself at the table, "you don't know the Chiquita, _misamigos_. She is made of different stuff than that of the women who dancefor a living. "

To this last remark the company agreed. 

"_Caramba_--how she danced!" he continued, taking a sip of _pulque_. "Had the house been as large as the plaza and the price of the seatsdoubled, there would not have been standing room left to accommodate thespectators. "

"Aye!" broke in Miguel Torreno, a dark, wizened old Mexican with a faceresembling a monkey's, "they say a thousand people were turned away atthe doors. "

"A thousand? Half the town, you mean!" returned Carlos, rolling a_cigarillo_ between the tips of his stubby fingers. 

"A pretty penny this dance of the Chiquita's must have cost you, CarlosMoreno, " continued Miguel, his head cocked knowingly on one side, whilehe squinted over the rim of his glass between puffs of cigarette smoke. 

"Three thousand _pesos d'oro_, " answered Carlos. "But by the Virgin, itwas worth it!"

"Three thousand _pesos d'oro_!" ejaculated his auditors with one breath. Old Miguel dropped his glass which fell with a crash, scattering itscontents and fragments over the floor. 

"Three thousand _pesos d'oro_!" he gasped. "_Alma de mi vida!_ Soul ofmy life! 'tis the salary of a Bishop! Are you mad, Carlos Moreno?"

"Perhaps. But only Carlos Moreno can afford to pay such salaries duringthe _Fiesta_, " he answered complacently, taking a fresh sip of_pulque_. 

"How did you ever persuade her to dance?" asked Pedro. "It's not thefirst time you have made overtures to her. "

"Ah, that's the mystery! I'd give something to know why she danced. Youknow, " he continued, "it's the first time she has ever appeared inpublic. "

"The first time?" interrupted the Captain in surprise. "Why--shepossesses the composure of a veteran of the footlights. "

"Just so, " rejoined Carlos. "Nothing is more characteristic of her;she's at home everywhere. When I first saw her dance three years ago inthe garden of the old _Posada_ at the birthday fête of Señora Fernandez, I knew instantly that she was either possessed of the devil or theancient muse of dance; also, why Don Felipe Ramirez went mad over her. 

"_Dios!_ she's a strange woman--almost mysterious at times!" he addedreflectively, with a shrug of the shoulders and gesture of the hands. "Ithought, of course, that it was the money she wanted when she finallyconsented to dance, but I'm not so sure of it now. "

"What reason have you for supposing otherwise?" asked Pedro. 

"Every reason. What do you think she did with the heap of gold andsilver that was showered upon her by the audience?"

"What?" excitedly demanded old Miguel, who by this time had fortifiedhimself with a fresh glass of _aguardiente_. 

"Why, after it had been gathered up and handed to her, she, without somuch as looking at it, tossed it lightly into the center of the stageand bade the musicians and stage-hands remember her when they drank totheir sweethearts to-night. "

Captain Forest's interest began to be aroused. 

"_Caramba_--'tis strange!" muttered old Miguel, eyeing his glassmeditatively; his head nodding slightly from the effects of too muchliquor. "But what will Padre Antonio say when he hears of it? Howfortunate he wasn't here to witness a sight that must have caused himthe deepest humiliation. Poor man, " he continued, assuming a sympathetictone, "it is already the scandal of the town. "

"Bah! what of that?" returned Carlos. 

It was evident to all that the delights of the _Fiesta_ were beginningto tell on the old man. Already it had been noted on previous occasionsthat an overindulgence in _aguardiente_ usually invoked a religiousframe of mind in him, but which in Miguel's case resembled rather thegroping of a lost soul than the prophetic vision of the seer. 

"What of that?" echoed Miguel, an ominous light flashing from his eyes. "Those golden _pesos_ so lightly earned will just about pay for athousand masses in order to avert excommunication and enable the Churchto snatch the soul of the Chiquita from the fires of purgatory as apunishment for conduct unbecoming the ward of a priest. "

"Bah! you talk like an infant, Miguel! What a sad, weary world thiswould be if there were only priests and churches in it and men didnothing all day long but say aves and burn candles on altars, " andCarlos lightly blew a ring of smoke toward the ceiling. 

"Ah, yes, perhaps--_quien sabe, amigo mio_?" answered the old man dryly. "But the Church is the Church. "

"Miguel, you are growing old, " said Pedro, slapping him lightly on theback. "Have another glass!"

"I'm not old. I'm no older than the rest of you, and neither will I haveanother glass, " retorted Miguel hotly, greatly irritated by the others'laughter. 

"Ah!" he continued, wagging his head, and in a tone of bravado andoffended dignity, "you think I can't get home alone, do you? I'll showyou that Miguel Torreno is still as young as the rest of you!" Andsupporting himself with one hand on the table and the other on hisstick, he rose from his seat with great difficulty. 

"Miguel Torreno old, is he? A thousand devils!" A chorus of laughtergreeted this last outburst as he turned unsteadily and swaying to andfro, slowly made his way through the crowd toward the door. 

Just then a man at the next table rose with an oath. It was Juan Ramon, Major-domo of the Inn of the Stars. Juan Ramon, the handsome, the hawk, the gambler--the greatest _vaquero_ in Chihuahua. The man who tookdelight in riding horses that other men feared--the man in whose handthe _riata_ became a magic wand, a hissing serpent, and who couldstretch a bull at full length upon the ground at a given spot within agiven time. 

"Has the blessed _Fiesta_ brought you no luck, Juan?" inquired Carlos, tilting himself back in his chair and smiling up in the other's face. 

"Luck--blessed _Fiesta_? The devil take them both!" exclaimed Juan, thelook of disgust on his face gradually changing to one ofresignation--that serene expression of the born gambler whom experiencehas taught that days of famine are certain to follow those of plenty. 

"Look!" he repeated. "The cards are bewitched--not a _centavo_! Mypockets are empty as Lazarus' stomach! Only a month ago I picked out abeautiful little _hacienda_ with the fairest acreage to which I intendedto retire and live like a _Caballero_--to-day I parted with my onlyhorse at a loss--to-morrow, " and he shrugged his shouldersindifferently, "if this sort of thing continues, I'll be forced to pawnthe buttons on my breeches. 

"_Mercedes Dios_, blessed be the _Fiesta_!" And flinging the end of his_zerape_ over one shoulder and across the lower half of his face, hestalked toward the door; the laughter of his friends ringing in hisears. 

IV

Ten years previous to the events just related, Padre Antonio, hisparochial duties over for the day, was slowly retracing his stepshomeward. 

It was a mild, serene summer evening, and he paused before the massiveiron gates set in the high adobe wall surrounding his garden for a lastlook at the sunset before entering his house. 

It had been a strenuous day for Padre Antonio. Early that morning, Miguel Torreno while beating his mule, had been kicked half way acrosshis corral by that stubborn though sensible animal, breaking Miguel'sright arm and fracturing three of his ribs. But no sooner had it beenascertained that old Miguel would not die as he obstinately insistedthat he would, calling frantically upon the Saints the while as thevision of purgatorial fires which he knew awaited him loomed before hisdistracted imagination, than the wives of Pedro Torlone and JoséAlvarez, neighbors and friends, quarreled over a cheap blue and whitestriped _ribosa_, embroiling their husbands who, without the Padre'sintercession, would have come to blows. 

Then the last sacrament had been administered to Don Juan Otero, one ofSanta Fé's oldest and most respected citizens. 

In a vain effort to banish the unpleasant recollections of the day fromhis thoughts, Padre Antonio turned with a sigh from the glories of thesunset which he had been contemplating, and was on the point of enteringthe garden when his quick ear caught the sound of horse's hoofs on theroad, causing him to pause with his hand on the latch of the gate. 

His house being situated in an unfrequented quarter of the town, hedecided to await the coming of the animal; the bearer perchance of somefriend or acquaintance. He had not long to wait. The sounds drew nearerand nearer, and presently, greatly to his astonishment, a tall, gaunt, half-starved gray horse with a _riata_ fastened to his lower jaw, andupon whose back sat an equally gaunt and haggard Indian woman withdisheveled hair and clothes tattered and dust begrimed, came into viewaround the sharp angle of the wall and stopped directly before him. 

Never in all his long and varied experience had he witnessed such apitiable spectacle as the woman presented. The wild, hollow eyes andwasted, emaciated form and features gave her more the appearance of somewild beast than a human being. She did not appear to be conscious of hispresence; and before he had time to recover from his surprise or utter aword, she stretched both arms out before her as if toward the sun, anduttering a wild, harsh, inarticulate cry, dropped unconscious from thehorse's back into his arms. 

Experience had taught Padre Antonio to act quickly in cases ofemergency, and with the assistance of his gardener and Manuela, his oldIndian housekeeper, he carried her into the house and laid her upon hisown bed. For days she lay in a delirium, the result of the terribleprivations she had evidently endured. She raved and talked incoherentlyin a language which neither he nor Manuela understood. 

The doctors whom he summoned at the outset, only shook their heads, andafter a lengthy consultation informed him with the stoicismcharacteristic of the profession that, the patient would either die orrecover. But Padre Antonio did not despair. In his extremity he turnedto heaven, nor did his petition pass unheeded. At length, after manydays of anxious watching, the fever left her and she sank into a deep, refreshing sleep from which she did not awaken for many hours. 

It was toward the dawn of a Sabbath, and as the calm and peace of sleepsettled upon her, her wasted and emaciated features began gradually toassume their normal outline. Nature asserted herself, and when the largedark eyes finally opened once more, it was into the face of a beautifulgirl that Padre Antonio found himself gazing as he knelt by her bedsidein prayer. 

"Be quiet, my daughter, " he involuntarily murmured as her eyes restedupon his, without considering whether she understood him. But the faintsemblance of a smile that lit up her countenance in response to hiswords told him she comprehended. Then, during the long days ofconvalescence that ensued, she imparted her history to him in brokenSpanish. 

She was a Tewana; the daughter of their War Chief, the Whirlwind, whohad been killed recently in battle with another Indian tribe, theIspali. Just previous to this, her people who had long been at war withthe Government, had been defeated by the Mexican troops. After thebattle the entire tribe with the exception of the Whirlwind's band madepeace with the Government; the remnant of the latter with which sheremained, escaping into the mountains. But fate had doomed the littlefleeing band to extermination. It was surprised and annihilated by theIspali Chieftain, the White Wolf, and his followers whose territory theyhad invaded; she being the only one spared--the White Wolf signifyinghis intention of making her one of his wives. But that same night whenthe Chieftain entered the lodge he had set apart for her and began tomake advances to her, she suddenly snatched a brand from the fire whichburned in the center of the lodge and struck him over the head, knockinghim senseless. 

Then, stealing forth from the lodge, she mounted the Chieftain's horsewhich stood tethered just outside the door and fled under cover of thenight. For days she fled across the deserts and mountains, concealingherself during the daytime and traveling at night; subsisting as bestshe could upon the wild roots and berries which she was able to find. But the privations which she was forced to endure--the lack of food andwater, night vigils and exposure to the weather, began to tell on her. She became delirious, and no longer able to guide her horse, was obligedto let him choose his own course, and--Padre Antonio knew the rest. 

Surely God had led this fair heathen child to his very door in orderthat he, Padre Antonio, might snatch her soul from the flames of hell bydirecting her in the way of the true faith. There could be no doubt ofit; God's handiwork was too apparent. 

Padre Antonio was a liberal, broad-minded man. Having experienced mostthings that fall to the lot of men, he did not believe in restrainingher against her will in order that her conversion might be accomplishedas many a zealous priest might have considered justifiable in her case. But should she manifest a desire to remain with him, she would be rearedin the very lap of Mother Church. With this project in mind, it was withthe greatest solicitude that he watched her recovery, and when she wasinformed that she would be permitted to return to her own people if sheso desired, he won her confidence completely. 

The last vestige of that barrier of restraint and suspicion which thestrangeness of her position had reared between them was swept away. 

From that moment the wild little nomad of the desert evinced the keenestinterest in her new surroundings. Her childish delight was unbounded onbeholding for the first time in her life the strange flowers and fruitsin the garden. They were all so new and wonderful to her, and shewandered for hours among them; touching and plucking them and tastingand inhaling their fragrance. 

Whether it was the novelty of her position, or her sudden and passionateattachment to Padre Antonio whom she regarded in the light of anew-found father that caused her to forget for the time her former wildlife and consent to remain with him, is difficult to determine. 

Padre Antonio who had lived many years among the wild tribes of thecountry and knew them as few men did, their insatiable love of libertyand intense dislike of the White man's civilization, looked upon herconversion and decision to remain with him as another directintervention of Providence; for that which usually required years hadbeen accomplished in as many weeks in her case. It was little short of amiracle, and he rejoiced exceedingly and began gradually to unfold hisplans to her concerning her future. 

The curriculum of the Convent of Saint Claire in Santa Fé did not seemadequate, and nothing would do, but that he should accompany her to theCity of Mexico, where he placed her in charge of the Sisters of SaintUrsula. There she would have not only the educational, but the socialadvantages which the city offered. 

Before their departure he christened her, Chiquita Pia Maria RoxanConcepcion Salvatore; a name which, out of gratitude and obedience toher benefactor, she accepted without question concerning either itsorigin or his reason for giving it to her. 

Six years passed, during which she traveled for three summers in Europewith friends of the Padre. Interminably long years they seemed to him. Each year he had planned to visit her, but each time somethingintervened to prevent his going. He was a busy man. His duties requiredannual visits to the outlying _pueblos_ and distant Indian Missions, consuming his entire time. However, he at length received word from theSisters of Saint Ursula that Chiquita had completed her course ofstudies and had started on her return journey to Santa Fé. 

It was evident from the reports which he had received at regularintervals from the Sisters that she did not care for the Church as hehad fondly hoped she might. But after all, what did it really matter?

One so young and gay could not be expected to take life so seriously. When one grew old, one became serious enough for this world; and hesmiled as he thought of his wild little Indian girl. 

In his fond imagination, he saw her large, mischievous, dark eyes snap, and heard the merry peals of her laughter as she flitted about thegarden in former years. Surely it was better thus--that she shouldremain blithe and happy like the birds, as God had created her. 

The years had begun to tell on the aged Manuela. She was beginning toshow signs of failing, and he decided that Chiquita, his ward, shouldlive with him and rule his household in Manuela's stead. His wants wereso few and simple that she would have little to do and old Manuela wouldbe able to sun herself in the garden during the remaining years of herlife; a reward for her long and faithful service. Nor was Manuelaadverse to this new arrangement which must eventually deprive her of allauthority in the household; a position she had guarded so jealouslythrough the years and which had raised her in the estimation of thecommunity. Although of a different people, the common racial blood bondhad drawn the two women together from the first; besides, she couldalways assist in the lighter work of the household if she chose. 

The Padre never tired of meditating upon this fond dream during hisleisure moments. What a perpetual source of joy and satisfaction thepresence and sunshine of this child of his own molding would be to himin his old age! Besides he would always be near her to administerspiritual council and guidance. 

So, when the day of her arrival finally dawned, he and old Manuela rosewith the sun, and gathering the freshest and brightest flowers thegarden contained, they arranged them in the room she was to occupy;transforming it into a veritable bower of fragrance and color. 

The prospect of seeing his protegée so soon again, filled Padre Antoniowith the most conflicting emotions of longing and impatience. 

He could think of nothing else--could neither sit nor stand, but frettedand bustled about the house with the impatience of a child. Fearful lesthe should be too late, he hurried through his simple breakfast, consisting of black coffee and a roll, without so much as glancing atthe local paper as was his wont; and then, quite forgetting to pull onhis black silk gloves which Manuela thrust into his hands together withhis hat and stick, he hastened to the station which he reached an hourbefore the time scheduled for the arrival of the stage. 

Of course she must have changed somewhat during the long interval of herabsence, he argued, more as a concession to reason than to desire orsentiment. But in spite of this possibility, his mental picture of herstill remained that of the little Indian girl he had confided to thecare of the good Sisters of Saint Ursula six years before. 

What if the stage were late, and could she make the long journey aloneand in safety, he asked himself a thousand times as he impatiently pacedup and down the platform of the station; the tap of his gold-headed canemarking the time of his steps on the boards beneath him. 

"Saints! but the stage was slow! A snail could crawl--" Suddenly hestopped short. A flush of joy suffused his countenance--his heart beganto beat rapidly and his right hand with which he grasped his canetrembled perceptibly as he gazed intently down the long dusty highroad. 

"At last!" he cried. Another intense moment of suspense and the distantcracking of a whip and sounds of wheels and hoof-beats on the roadannounced the approach of the stage. Presently it hove in sight and afew minutes later, as it drew up before the station and came to a fullstop, the door was hastily flung open and a tall, closely veiled womansprang lightly to the platform. 

Her striking appearance would have commanded attention anywhere, butwithout noticing her, he brushed hastily past her and gazed eagerly intothe interior of the coach. It was empty. 

_Dios!_ what had happened? There must be some mistake! With a note ofkeenest disappointment in his voice he turned sharply on the driver andimpatiently demanded what had become of the little Indian girl that hadbeen placed in his charge. 

"Little Indian girl? _Caramba!_" A look of bewilderment accompanied by ashrug of the shoulders and a "_no sabe_, Señor Padre, " was the onlyanswer he received. Consternation seized Padre Antonio. 

Merciful heaven! what had become of her--Chiquita, his little girl? Hisvoice choked, while tears of bitter disappointment welled to his eyes. "Ah, yes, there had been a mistake--she would come by the next stage, "he said, addressing the driver, and was on the point of turning awaywhen a silvery peal of laughter fell upon his ears. He felt a soft touchon his shoulder and a voice close to him said:

"Padre Antonio, don't you know your little Chiquita?" The veil hadslipped from her face, displaying the features of a beautiful Spanishwoman. Confounded and speechless with amazement, Padre Antonio couldonly gaze in silence upon the apparition before him. 

Was it possible, or was he only dreaming? What a transformation! Wasthis mature woman, this tall and supple and refined and gracefulcreature his Chiquita, his wild little Indian girl of former years? Herubbed his eyes in bewilderment and gazed again. Holy Maria! but she wasbeautiful--fair as the starry jasmine blossoms which she wore at herbreast and in the dark folds of her hair. 

In that hour the world suddenly became filled with exquisite harmony forPadre Antonio, and he seemed to grow younger by many years. 

The radiant beauty of her face with the poetry of sunshine and laughterin her eyes and her grace and charm of personality affected him likesome wonderfully attuned chime of silver bells. Surely this was worthwaiting for. His prayers had been answered richly and abundantly, farbeyond anything his imagination had pictured during those long years ofwaiting. 

V

The _Posada de las Estrellas_ was situated on the western side of thetown within a stone's throw of Padre Antonio's house. It stood well backfrom the highroad from which it was screened by a thick hedge-likegrowth of cedar, manzanita, tamarisk and lilac bushes. 

A short distance east of the _Posada_, the highroad entered the long_Alameda_ which led to the plaza in the center of the town, overlookedby the old _Precedio_ or Governor's palace. 

The widespreading branches of two immense cottonwood trees, the trunk ofone of which was encircled by a rustic bench, cast an inviting shade infront of the house and wide veranda which stretched its length along twosides of the low, one storied adobe structure. Honeysuckle and whiteclematis and pink and scarlet passion vines clambered up its slenderpillars and hung in fragrant flowering festoons from the low balustradesabove. The fresh green leaves of the nasturtium, bright with variegatedblossoms, ranging from deep scarlet to gold and pale yellow, trailedalong the ground at the foot of the veranda and skirted the narrowpathway which led to the rear of the _Posada_ whose _patio_ looked outupon a garden interspersed with innumerable flowers and shrubs, fruitand cedar trees, and whose soft green lawn was intersected by narrowgravel pathways. Just back of the garden lay the vegetable patches whichintervened between it and the stables and corrals, whence came thecackling of hens and cooing of pigeons in the early morning. 

Originally the _Posada_ had been one of the large _haciendas_ adjoiningSanta Fé, but its mistress, Señora Fernandez, had transformed it into anInn after the death of her husband who had been killed accidentally bythe fall of his horse. Finding herself in reduced circumstances incurredby her husband's gambling propensities, she resolved upon the change. His chief legacy consisting of debts, she was obliged to part with thegreater portion of the estate, but her natural executive ability stoodher in good stead. 

The new enterprise prospered, and the Inn became widely known throughoutthe country as a place at which to stop if only for a cup of chocolateor a chat with the Señora who always knew the latest gossip. 

In her youth she had been noted for her beauty, and even now, in spiteof middle-age and somewhat faded features, the latter the result of thestruggle she had undergone to reestablish herself in the world, she wasstill considered buxom and fair to look upon by the majority of men. Shecarried her head high and with a coquettish air which plainly showed shehad by no means relinquished her hold upon life. 

On this particular morning she looked unusually well as she moved aboutthe _patio_ engaged with her women in assorting a huge basket of freshlylaundered household linen. Not a strand of silver was visible in herjet black hair, adorned with a large tortoise-shell comb and a singleCastilian rose. Her gay, low-necked, short sleeved bodice, exposing hershapely neck and arms, harmonized well with her short, black silken_saya_ which rustled with every movement she made and from beneath whichprotruded a small pair of high instepped feet encased in black slippersornamented with large quaint silver buckles. 

It was the Señora's birthday. She had risen earlier than usual preparedto receive the congratulations of her friends who, she knew, would besure to call during the day in honor of the occasion. A few of themwould be asked to remain and dine with her in the evening. 

It was on a similar occasion that Chiquita had danced in the _patio_before her guests. 

The innate vanity of the woman might have led one to suppose that shewould let the years pass unnoticed, but not so. The old, time-honoredcustom of the country must be observed lest her friends might say:Señora Fernandez is already laying by for a ripe old age, the meresuggestion of which on the part of the world would have been enough tothrow her into one of those uncontrollable fits of rage for which shewas noted. 

Artful, shrewd and scheming though she was, her susceptibility toflattery was her weak point, amounting almost to a mania. To be toldthat she still looked as young and handsome as in the days when theyears justified the statement, was to win her immediate esteem. The lackof this servile attitude and cringing civility on Chiquita's part, together with the knowledge of her own superiority which she neverhesitated to show when occasion required, had drawn down the Señora'senmity upon her. Whereas, an occasional soft word or smile ofacquiescence--she demanded so little--would have smoothed her ruffledspirit and taken the edge off her tongue, the sharpest in Santa Fé. 

It was not easy for the inveterate coquette and one time reigning belleto resign the position she had held so long and undisputed, especiallyto an alien--one whom the full blooded Spaniard inwardly despises, regards as of an inferior race. 

How she hated the dark woman, envied the glances and flatteries andattentions which she always received wherever she went. It was said, that on Chiquita's return from school, Señora Fernandez suddenly grewcold and haughty toward the world, but finding that a proud exterioravailed her little, she sulked and pouted for a time like a spoiledchild, only to warm again to the world which she loved so passionately, which she felt slipping from her and without whose adulation she couldnot live. 

_Dios de mi vida!_ but it was terrible to grow old! Not since the deathof her husband, Don Carlos, had she endured so bitter a pang. The factthat she had never had any children accounted perhaps for a certainharshness in her nature. 

It was a busy day for the Señora. Besides the care of her guests, thepreparing of freshly killed fowl and baking of cakes and _tortillas_, there was the garden which must be hung with lanterns where there wouldbe the usual dancing and merrymaking during the evening. All this andmuch more the Señora must superintend, but she was equal to the task. 

As she issued her orders to the retinue of servants that came and went, she carried on a lively, though interrupted, conversation with hersister, Señora Rosario Sanchez, and her niece, Dolores, who had come toassist her in the preparations. 

"It has come at last--I always said it would--I never trusted thatdouble nature of hers!" she exclaimed triumphantly, pausing for aninstant in her work of assorting the linen. The expression and gestureof Señora Sanchez plainly bespoke the shock she also had experienced. 

"To think of it, " she gasped. "How Padre Antonio can overlook such abreach of confidence and offense to the Church is more than I canunderstand!"

"Ah! that shows the extent of her influence over him, " answered Señora. "She has bewitched him with her wild ways--he simply dotes on her!"

"It's scandalous!" broke in her sister. 

"To my mind, it shows signs of the Padre's failing, " rejoined the Señorasharply. 

"It does indeed--poor man!" sighed her sister. "And what's more--itnever did seem proper that so handsome a woman should live with a priesteven though she be his ward and he an old man. "

"Handsome?" sneered the Señora, drawing herself together as though shehad received an electric shock; the pleased and animated expression ofher face changing suddenly to one of utmost frigidity. "I never couldunderstand why people considered that Indian good looking, " and herblack eyes snapped as she turned to resume her work, plainly betrayingthe jealousy aroused. Señora Sanchez, knowing her sister's temper onlytoo well, hastened to change the subject. 

Strange to say, Padre Antonio did not share the public's sentiment, orrather that of his own particular flock, concerning Chiquita's latestescapade. Instead of being overwhelmed, broken in spirit and utterlycast down by grief and shame as had been confidently predicted, he, muchto the disgust of his congregation, went calmly about his duties asthough nothing unusual had occurred, referring jocosely to this lark ofhis madcap ward as he was pleased to term it. 

Lark? Heavens! had the Padre lost his senses? Excommunication might be alittle too severe, but a year's solitary confinement in a convent as apenance for her sin was the least penalty she could expect. 

But Padre Antonio knew what the rest of the world did not. That hischarming, irrepressible protegée would have snapped her fingers lightlyat the mere suggestion of either. The days of mediæval suppression offemales had come to an end even in Mexico. Moreover, there existed aperfect understanding between the two. 

During his long years of missionary work he had learned that the heathenoften stood higher in the sight of Heaven than many a zealous devotee ofthe Church. Besides, dancing was not only a national pastime of theSpaniard, but among Indians, a part of their religion as well. 

That Chiquita had some very good reason for dancing in public, he knewwell enough. They understood one another perfectly, and he did not askher her reason for dancing, knowing full well that some day she wouldtell him of her own accord. 

Although Chiquita had accommodated herself marvelously well to the newconditions, imbibing the best civilization had to offer, shenevertheless remained the freeborn woman--the descendant of a freebornrace of men. The wild, free nomad whom experience and direct contactwith nature had early taught to recognize the simple underlying truthsand realities of life and their relations to one another, was not to bemeasured by the conventions or limited standards of a tamer race of menhedged about by superficial traditions and born and reared remote fromthe heart of nature beneath the roofs of houses. It was the cold, hardearth and equally cold and unrelenting stars that had nurtured Chiquitafrom earliest childhood, and to apply the petty restraints andconventions of modern society to her was like clipping the wings of aneagle and then expecting it to fly. 

Ordinarily, life is dull enough without civilized man's efforts toreduce it to positive boredom, and although Chiquita's escapades hadacted like a slap in the face, they had nevertheless done much to arousethe spirit of the otherwise sleepy old town. Her presence was fresh andinvigorating as the north wind. Moreover, the very ones who criticisedher most in secret, were usually the first to come to her for advicewhen in trouble. For who was so wise as the strange, beautiful woman?

True, it cost something to be hated as cordially as one was admired, nevertheless, Padre Antonio rightly conjectured that there was not awoman in Santa Fé who would not willingly exchange places with his wardwere she able to. So, like the sensible man that he was, he only smiledat idle gossip and continued to watch with increasing interest thetransformation of his protegée. 

VI

Captain Forest had taken quarters at the _Posada_ for an indefiniteperiod; at least until he learned the whereabouts of his friend, DickYankton, who had accompanied him on his former expeditions. 

He had been aroused at an early hour by the cackling of affrighted fowland the voices and footsteps of _peons_ as they came and went in the_patio_, their jests and laughter mingling with snatches of song. Notbeing able to sleep, he arose, and after a hasty toilet, stepped outupon the veranda, bright with the morning sunlight. Save for hispresence, the place was deserted; the empty chairs standing about justas their occupants of the previous evening had left them, a proof thathe was the first of the guests to be abroad. 

"I wonder where Dick is?" he soliloquized, leisurely descending theveranda steps and turning into the pathway that led to the garden at therear of the house and thence to the corrals, whither he directed hissteps for a look at his horse to see whether he had been properly caredfor during the night. As he disappeared around the corner of the house, a woman turned in from the highroad and paused before the Inn beneaththe great cottonwood encircled by the bench. 

She was tall and slender and on one arm carried a basket of eggsconcealed beneath a layer of freshly cut roses; Padre Antonio's annualbirthday tribute to the Señora. Her heavy blue-black hair, looselycaught up at the back of the neck and adorned with a bunch of pinkpassion flowers nestled about her neck and shoulders, on one of whichwas perched a small white dove that fluttered and cooed. From out themidst of the passion flowers shone a faint glint of silver. 

Her dull white shirt waist, low at the neck and with sleeves rolled backto the elbows, exposed her long, slender neck and well rounded forearmswhich, like her face, were a rich red bronze. A faded orange kerchief, loosely knotted, encircled her neck; the ends thrust carelessly into herbreast. Her soft mauve _saya_, worn and patched and looped up at oneside, disclosing a faded blue petticoat underneath, fell to her ankles, displaying a pair of small feet encased in dull blue stockings and lowblack shoes. 

Depositing the basket on the bench, she extended her right hand upon theback of which the dove immediately hopped, cooing and fluttering asbefore. 

"_Cara mia!_" she murmured fondly, raising it to her lips, kissing itand caressing it gently against her cheek. 

"What wouldst thou--thou greedy little Jaquino? Knowest not thou hasthad one more berry than thy sweet little Jaquina?" But the dove onlycontinued to flutter and coo on her hand. 

"Hearest thou not, " she continued, "she already calls thee!" Andextending her lips, between which she had inserted a fresh berry, thedove eagerly seized and devoured it. 

"Ah, _querida mia_!" she murmured softly, kissing it again. "Now flyaway quickly like a good little Jaquino before some wicked señor comesto catch thee for his breakfast!" And tossing the dove lightly into theair with an "_á Dios_, " it hovered over her head for an instant, thenflew straight away over the old _Posada_ back to Padre Antonio's gardenwhere its mate awaited it. 

A sigh escaped her as she watched the flight of the bird. How free ofthe cares and responsibilities of the world the winged creatures seemed. She turned to the bench once more and was in the act of picking up herbasket, when her attention was suddenly arrested by the sound offootsteps close at hand, and wheeling around, she came face to face withCaptain Forest. 

The little cry of surprise that escaped her interrupted the Captain'smeditations who, with eyes cast on the ground, might otherwise havewalked straight into her. 

"A thousand pardons, Señorita!" he exclaimed in Spanish, stoppingabruptly and raising his hat. 

"I--" He paused as her full gaze met his which to his surprise wasalmost on a level with his own. What a face! Could his sensations havebeen analyzed, they might have coincided with those of Padre Antonio'son beholding his protegée when she stepped from the stagecoach on herreturn from the convent. 

The broad sweep of her brow, her penetrating gaze, her straight nose, high cheek bones and delicately molded lips and chin and grace of hersupple, sinuous body, together with the picturesqueness of her costume, presented a picture of striking beauty. 

"Why, " he continued abruptly, "you are the woman that danced at CarlosMoreno's! The Señorita Chiquita about whom the whole town is talking!"

"Ah! you saw me dance, Señor?" she asked, betraying a slightembarrassment. 

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world! Such a performance--I--" againhe paused, regarding her intently. "Do you know, Señorita, all the whileI watched you dance there seemed to be something familiar about you. Itseemed as though I had seen you somewhere before. "

"Yes?" she queried, her dark eyes glowing and a faint flush mounting toher cheeks. 

"Yes, " he answered. "Ever since then I have been trying to think whereit could have been. Ah!" he exclaimed, stepping backwards and eyeing hercritically. "Just turn your head that way again. There, that's it! Iknew I had seen you before! Do you remember the night we met a year agoon the trail below La Jara?"

A smile parted her full rose-red lips, displaying her pearly teeth. "Iremember it well, Señor, " she answered, casting down her eyes for aninstant. "I recognized you the instant I saw you. "

"Strange, " he muttered half to himself. Then, after a ratherembarrassing silence, he said: "That was a fine horse you rode. Do youlive here at the _Posada_, Señorita?"

"No. I live with Padre Antonio. "

"Padre Antonio? Ah, yes!" he exclaimed, recalling the conversation atPedro Romero's gambling hall. "Tell me, " he continued, "who is PadreAntonio?"

"Ah! I see you have not been long in Santa Fé, Señor, else you must haveheard something about him. Everybody knows Padre Antonio--he is ourpriest. "

"Both you and he must have been absent when I was here before, otherwiseI must have met you, " he answered. 

At this moment the tall figure of a man, dressed in a suit of light graymaterial with a soft felt hat to match, appeared in the doorway of theInn. His eyes, like his hair and mustache, were dark brown. His handswere long and slender and delicate as a woman's, yet there was nothingeffeminate in his appearance. His strong, sensitive features and roving, piercing eyes and alert carriage indicated courage and energy. 

He paused as he caught sight of the two figures before him. Then, withan exclamation of surprise, he stepped quickly out on to the veranda. "Jack!" he exclaimed. "When did you get here?"

Turning swiftly, Captain Forest saw Dick Yankton standing before him. "Dick!" he cried, and rushing up the veranda steps, seized him by bothhands. "I've been wondering where I would find you! You evidently didn'tget my letter?"

"No, " replied his companion. "I only returned from the mountains latelast night. It's probably waiting for me here. "

"The Señores know one another?" interrupted Chiquita, also ascending theveranda. 

"Know one another? Señorita, we are brothers, " said Dick. 

"Brothers?" she echoed, surprised and perplexed. 

"Yes, Señorita, all but in name, " interposed the Captain. 

"Ah! I see. Brothers in fortune!"

"Exactly, " replied Dick. "But what is all this I hear concerning yourdoings, Señorita? I'd have given my best horse to have seen you dance, but, as you see, I'm too late. A pretty nest of hornets you've stirredup in the old place, " he continued. "Why, last evening I met the Navaroson the road on their way home and they wouldn't let me pass until theyhad told me how wicked you were. Señora Navaro even crossed herself andsaid an ave at the first mention of your name. "

"Ah, " she sighed, then laughed unconcernedly. "I'm afraid I've been verynaughty, Señor. " Then suddenly recollecting her mission, she exclaimed:"I almost forgot why I came here this morning. I'm the bearer of PadreAntonio's gift and greetings to the Señora. It's her birthday, youknow. "

"Her birthday? I wonder she still dares have them!" exclaimed Dick. 

"She does, nevertheless, " laughed Chiquita; and brushing back the rosesin her basket with a sweep of the hand, she disclosed the eggs beneath. "Look, " she continued. "Padre Antonio's gift! Are they notbeautiful--just fresh from the hens! You had better have some for yourbreakfast, Señor, " she added. 

"By all the Saints in the calendar, they are pearls, every one ofthem!" returned Dick enthusiastically, eyeing the contents of thebasket. "Thrice blessed be thy hens, Señorita! We'll have eggs with ourchocolate out here on the veranda!"

"I thought so!" came a sharp voice from the other side of the doorwayjust behind them, "as usual, talking with the Señores!" and SeñoraFernandez, with flushed cheeks and a spiteful gleam in her eyes whichshe took no pains to conceal, stepped from the door into the light. 

"_Buenas dias_, Doña Fernandez!" said Chiquita, unabashed by theSeñora's sudden appearance and onslaught, "may the day bring you manyblessings! Look! Padre Antonio's greetings, " and she held up the basketfor the Señora's benefit. Then, with a subtle sarcasm which she knewwould avenge her amply for the Señora's unprovoked attack, she said: "Istopped to inquire what the Señores would have for their breakfast. Theysay they will have eggs with their chocolate. "

"Indeed! Eggs and chocolate--chocolate and eggs!" angrily retorted theSeñora, "just as though one didn't know what everybody takes forbreakfast!" But without waiting for her to finish, Chiquita vanishedthrough the doorway with her basket; her low laughter, followed by asnatch of song just audible from within, serving to increase theSeñora's irritation. 

"Holy God! I sometimes think the devil is inside of that girl!" sheexclaimed, vexed beyond measure. 

"Ah, but what a sweet one!" laughed Dick. "I wouldn't mind beingpossessed of the same myself. "

"Bah, Señor! you talk like a fool!" she retorted. "I pray you, do notthink too poorly of us, Señor _Capitan_, " she continued in an apologetictone, turning to Captain Forest. "I assure you, all the women in SantaFé are not so bold as the Señorita Chiquita. "

"No, most of them are a tame lot!" broke in Dick, secretly enjoying theSeñora's discomfiture. 

"_Caramba!_ your speech grows more foolish as you talk, Señor!" returnedthe Señora in a tone of intense disgust. "I see, you too have fallenunder her spell. They say she has the evil-eye, Señor _Capitan_, " shewent on, addressing the Captain again. 

"Evil-eye--ha, ha! What next?" laughed Dick. 

"Blood of the Saints! I'll no longer waste my time with you, Señor!" andwith an angry swish of her skirt, she turned and disappeared in thehouse. 

VII

"What does she mean by the evil-eye?" asked the Captain after the soundsof the Señora's footsteps had died away in the corridor within thehouse. 

"Nothing--it's only jealousy. Chiquita being the acknowledged belle ofthe town, most of the other women, especially those of pure Spanishblood, are jealous as cats of her, and seldom miss an opportunity ofsaying spiteful things about her. That's why her dancing has caused sucha row. And yet, " he continued, seating himself on the veranda rail, hisback against one of its wooden pillars, "I can't see why. It's racehatred of course, but there's really no reason for it because she's thebest educated woman between here and the City of Mexico. Padre Antoniosaw to it that she received the best Mexico had to give. Why, she speaksFrench and English almost as well as she does Spanish. If she were a_mestiza_ or half-caste, things would go hard with her, but being afull-blood, she's easily a match for them all. "

"She's certainly an unusual woman, " said the Captain; "one you wouldhardly expect to find in this out-of-the-way place. "

"Oh, that's one of the many paradoxes in life, " answered Dick. "I've metmany a remarkable personality in the most remote regions during mywanderings. But, " he continued, abruptly changing the topic ofconversation, "what brings you back here? I always felt you would comeback to this country again. Civilization isn't all it's cracked up tobe, is it?"

"It was a hard wrench just the same, " returned the Captain, "especiallywhen one--"

"Did you hear that?" suddenly interrupted Dick, rising from his seat onthe veranda rail and gazing intently down the highroad. The sounds of avehicle and hoof-beats on the hard road, mingled with the shouts of adriver, the crack of a whip and tinkle of bells, were distinctly heard, and presently, a heavy lumbering stagecoach enveloped in a cloud ofwhite dust and drawn by four mules was seen coming down the road at fullgallop. 

The sounds had also aroused the household. Señora Fernandez at the headof a troop of _peons_ and women rushed out of the house, talking andgesticulating excitedly as they swarmed over the veranda and down thesteps in front of the _Posada_, for all the world like a distractedcolony of ants. 

"_Dios!_ what can have happened to the stage that it comes in themorning instead of the evening?" she cried breathlessly, quiteforgetting her recent ill humor in the excitement. 

"There's no stage at this hour, " said Dick. 

"But there it comes!" answered the Captain. 

"It's not the regular stage, " returned Dick; "a party of tourists, mostlikely! I see a lot of women!" he added, as the occupants on the outsideof the stage came more clearly into view. 

Suddenly Captain Forest started, gasped, and gripped one of the verandapillars with his right hand. "No--it can't be!" he muttered, passing hisfree hand across his eyes as though to dispel an illusion. 

"What's the matter, Jack?" asked Dick. 

"God in heaven! what can have brought them here?" he cried, ignoring hiscompanion's question and leaning out over the veranda rail, his gazeriveted on the stage. 

"Friends of yours?" asked Dick again. 

"Friends? It's the whole family!"

Dick gave a prolonged whistle. 

The women and _peons_, clamoring vociferously, instantly surrounded thestage as it drew up before the _Posada_ with a great clatter of wheelsand hoofs; assisting its occupants to alight and carrying the luggageinto the house. 

On the box beside the driver sat Blanch Lennox, looking a trifle palethe Captain thought, and Bessie Van Ashton, his cousin, a pretty blondwith large violet eyes and small hands and feet that matched herslender, willowy figure. 

"Is this the infernal place?" came a voice from the interior of thecoach that sounded more like a snarl of a wild beast than a human voice. "If ever I pass another night in such a damned ark--" came the voiceagain, as its possessor, Colonel Van Ashton, enveloped in a muchwrinkled traveling coat, stepped with difficulty from the coach to theground. "I'm so stiff I can hardly walk! Ough!" he cried, and his righthand went to his back as a fresh spasm of pain seized him. 

"It's just what I told you it would be like! The country'sbeastly--beastly!" and Mrs. Forest, white with dust and completelyexhausted by the journey, followed the Colonel, supported on either sideby her maid and her brother's valet. 

"Merciful God! they must be very grand people to talk so foolish!"ejaculated the Señora who knew enough English to grasp the import ofMrs. Forest's words. Although she had never devoted much time to thestudy of the language, she had picked up a smattering of English fromthe Americans and Englishmen who annually stopped at the _Posada_ ontheir way to the mines in the interior of the country in which muchforeign capital was invested. 

"Why, there's Jack!" cried Bessie, dropping lightly from the box intothe arms of two _peons_ who stood below to assist her to the ground. 

"Hello, Jack!" she continued, advancing, "I'll wager you didn't expectto see us this morning, did you?"

The Captain noted the ring of sarcasm in her voice as she concluded. 

"I confess I did not, Cousin, " he answered, descending the veranda tomeet them. "What in the world brought you here?" he asked, taking hiscousin's hand. 

"Oh! we thought we'd like to see a little more of the world before webecame too old to enjoy traveling, " she answered, with a peculiar littlelaugh that was all her own and which usually conveyed a sense ofuneasiness to those toward whom it was directed. 

"How much longer are you going to stand there asking idiotic questions?"broke in Mrs. Forest with a furious glance at her son. "Can't you see, I'm nearly dead?"

"Really, Mother, I'm very sorry, " returned the Captain, "but it's allyour own fault, you know. Why did you come?"

"Our fault--why did we come? It's your fault--your fault, sir!" shealmost screamed, and ended by laughing hysterically. 

Colonel Van Ashton who had been nursing his wrath all night long whilebeing bumped over a rough road in an old broken-down stagecoach, required but the sight of his nephew to cause an explosion. He had notclosed his eyes during the entire night, and like his sister, Mrs. Forest, was in a state of collapse. His usually florid complexion hadturned to a brilliant crimson, giving him the appearance of anoverheated furnace. 

He regarded himself as a martyr, nay, worse--an innocent victim of fatewho, entirely against his will, had been cruelly dragged into thepresent intolerable situation by the caprice of his accursed nephew. 

He had suffered long and patiently all that mortal flesh and blood couldendure. But, thank God, there were compensations in this life afterall--the object of his wrath stood before him at last. 

"So this, sir, is what you call returning to nature, is it?" he cried ina hoarse roar, controlling his voice with difficulty and glaringsavagely at his nephew. 

"It's evidently not to your liking, Uncle, " replied the Captain quietly, doing his best to keep from laughing in his face. 

"Liking!"--roared the Colonel again, his voice raised to the breakingpitch--"I never thought I'd get to hell so soon! Why, sir, " hecontinued, knocking a cloud of dust from his hat, "this isn't nature, this is geology! I don't see how you ever discovered the damned country!The wind-swept wastes of Dante's Inferno are verdant in comparison!You're mad, there's no doubt of it!" he fumed, stamping up and down. 

"Do you know, " he went on, stopping abruptly before his nephew, "theysay that, before you left Newport, you ran your touring-car over thecliff into the sea--a machine that must have cost you fifteen thousandat least!"

"Well, what if I did? It served me right for deserting my horse for thedevil's toy. Thank God, I'm rid of the infernal machine!"

"Look here, Jack Forest--" but the Colonel's voice broke in a violentfit of coughing. 

It required but little discernment on the part of the Mexicans toperceive that the meeting between Captain Forest and his family was notwhat might be termed particularly felicitous. Even Señora Fernandez wasquick enough to perceive that things were going from bad to worse, andin an effort to smooth matters, she stepped forward and in her bestEnglish said: "Señor _Capitan_, why did you tell me not zat ze ladieswere coming? I might 'ave prepared been for zem. "

"My good Señora, " responded the Captain, regarding her with a look ofextreme compassion, "I never dreamt of such a misfortune. "

"Just the sort of answer one might expect from you! Not a word ofwelcome or sympathy! I always said you were the most selfish mortalalive!" cried Mrs. Forest bitterly. 

"Señoras, I pray for you, come into ze house at once!" spoke up theSeñora again, turning entreatingly to the ladies. "I you promess, zatwen you an orange an' cup of coffee 'ave 'ad, you will yourselves betterfeel. "

"The Señora's right, " broke in the Captain. "Come into the house andwhen you've--" but his sentence was cut short by the sharp report of apistol, followed in quick succession by two other shots, and a momentlater a man, breathless and without coat or hat, and his shirt andtrousers in tatters, rushed among them. 

"Hide me quick, somebody!" he cried. "For God's sake--the posse--" butbefore he could finish, a troop of men, armed with six-shooters andWinchester rifles, burst from the cover of bushes that lined thehighroad. 

"There he is yonder, boys, behind that man!" cried their leaderexcitedly, a small, thick-set, broad-shouldered man with sandy hair andbeard and florid complexion. The others, following the directionindicated by him, seized the fugitive who had taken refuge behindCaptain Forest and dragged him hurriedly beneath one of the cottonwoodtrees, over a lower branch of which they flung a rope. Their work was soexpeditious that, before the spectators could realize what washappening, they had bound his hands behind his back and fastened one endof the rope about his neck. 

"Stand clear, everybody!" commanded the leader, his gaze sweeping thethrong. Then turning to his men, he said: "When I give the word, boys, let him swing!"

"Don't, boys--don't!" cried the prisoner in a despairing, supplicatingvoice, dropping on his knees. "For God's sake--give me a chance--" but ajerk of the rope cut short his words which ended in an inarticulategurgle in his throat. 

"They are going to hang him--it's murder!" gasped Mrs. Forest, clingingto her trembling, terrified maid who was already on the verge offainting. 

"Gentlemen, " said the Colonel, stepping forward, "I object to such anunheard-of proceeding! You have no right to hang a man without a trial. "

"Say, old punk, " cried the leader, turning savagely on the Colonel, "who's a runnin' this show?" The well-delivered blow of a sledge-hammercould not have been more crushing in its effect on the Colonel than werethe words of the leader; he was completely silenced. Greatly to hiscredit, however, he stood his ground. He was no coward, for he had faceddeath and been wounded more than once in his younger days on the fieldof battle, and had he possessed a weapon at the moment, he would havesnuffed out the leader's life as deliberately as he would have blown outthe light of a candle, regardless of consequences. But recognizing thecarrion with which he had to deal, and the futility of furtherinterference, he quietly shrugged his shoulders, smiled and pulled theend of his mustache. The hanging might proceed so far as he wasconcerned. 

"Gentlemen, " spoke up the Captain, "what has this man done?"

"You'll learn that when we're through with him!" replied the leader. 

Even were there no doubt of the prisoner's guilt and hanging awell-deserved punishment, Captain Forest, nevertheless, liked fair play. The blood surged to his face. His fighting instincts and spirit ofresentment were thoroughly aroused. He had seen men hanged and shot downbefore in the most summary manner, some of them afterward proving tohave been victims of gross error and brute passion. He also knew howfutile it was to argue with men whose passions were roused to thefighting pitch. The Colonel's interference was an instance of how littlesuch men could be influenced. It was absurd to look for moderation underthe circumstances. There was only one way to save the prisoner--the useof the same means employed by the lynchers, namely, force. Whence couldsuch interference come? How could a man single-handed cope with awell-armed body of men of their type? Only a miracle could save theprisoner and the intervention of a miracle is always a slender prop uponwhich to lean. 

"Now, boys, " continued the leader, turning to his men, "get ready--" buthis voice was drowned by a chorus of cries and screams from the women. 

"Silence!" he roared. "Stop that damn noise!"

"I would like to know, sir, who gave you authority to shut our mouths?"and Blanch Lennox planted herself squarely before him. So astonished washe by her sudden appearance and outburst, that he fell back a pace. Heseemed to have lost his voice, and only after much hemming and hawing, managed to stammer an awkward apology while vainly endeavoring toconceal his embarrassment. 

"Ladies, " he finally began, removing his hat in an attempt atpoliteness, "I'm powerful sorry to be obliged to perform this painfulduty contrary to your wishes, but the law must be obeyed. We've been achasin' this feller, who's the most notorious scoundrel in the country, through the mountains for the last three weeks, and now we've got him, Ireckon we ain't a goin' ter let him get away. Is we, boys?" and heturned confidently to his men. 

"You bet we ain't!" they responded. 

"No, ladies, " echoed their leader in turn, "not if we know it. Besides, we've got permission from the Mexican authorities to do with him as welike. I guess, " he added, "they'll be about as glad to be rid of him aswe are. And now, ladies, " he continued, "if you don't want to witness aspretty a hanging as ever took place in these parts, you'll take myadvice and retire into the house as soon as possible. "

But no one stirred. The tall handsome woman still stood before himunmoved, and he was beginning to realize that her gaze was becoming moredifficult to meet. Somewhat disconcerted, he began again in his mostpersuasive tone. 

"Ladies, please don't interrupt the course of the law by staying aroundhere any longer than's necessary--for hang he will!" he added. 

Still no one showed the slightest sign of complying with his wishes. Thesituation was becoming intolerable. 

"Ladies, " he began again, and this time rather peremptorily, "you'llgreatly oblige us by retiring at once. "

"We'll not move a step until you take the rope from that man's neck, "said Blanch firmly and unabashed, still holding her ground. Her wordsacted like a challenge. His temper was thoroughly roused, it being aquestion whether he or a lot of women should have their way. He, JimBlake, overpowered by a mob of sentimental, hysterical women--not whilehe lived!

"Then, ladies, " he answered curtly, placing his hat firmly on his head, "if you won't go into the house, you'll have to see him swing, that'sall!" and quickly detailing half his men who lined up before thespectators with cocked rifles, he shouted to the others behind themholding the rope: "Boys, when I count three, do your work!" There was nomistaking his words. The prisoner uttered a half-articulate groan. 

"One--" slowly counted Blake. 

The Mexicans crossed themselves and began to mutter prayers. Womenscreamed. 

"Two--three--" but simultaneously with the word three, was heard thereport of a pistol, and the men pulling on the rope rolled on theground, a hopelessly entangled mass of arms and legs. The rope had beensevered just above the prisoner's head, and when the smothered oaths ofthe men mingled with the screams of the women had subsided, Dick Yanktonwith pistol in hand was seen leaning out over the veranda rail. 

"I reckon there won't be any hanging at the old _Posada_ this morning, Jim Blake, " he said, calmly covering the latter with his weapon. 

"Well, darn my skin!" gasped Blake. "Where did you come from?"

"Oh, I just dropped around, " replied Dick, unconcernedly. 

"Now, gentlemen, " he continued, addressing the men, "I've got the dropon Blake, and if any one of you moves hand or foot I'll send him to awarmer place than this in pretty quick time. "

"Don't mind me, boys--turn loose on him!" cried Blake pluckily, butnobody seemed inclined to obey. 

"It won't do, Jim, " spoke up one of his men. "We ain't a going to seeyou killed before our eyes. Besides, it's Dick Yankton. "

"Jack!" called out Dick, "free the prisoner and be quick about it!"

"You're interfering with the law!" roared Blake, as the Captainproceeded to obey Dick's command. 

"I know it, " replied Dick; "it isn't the first time I've interfered withit either. Besides, I don't see why I haven't got as good a right to itas you or any other man. " Blake sputtered and squirmed helplessly as hefaced Dick's weapon, not daring to lift a hand. 

"What objection have you got to our ridding the earth of this damnedscoundrel, I'd like to know?" he asked, choking with rage. 

"Oh, as to that, I've got several, Jim Blake, and one of them is--Idon't like to see a man hanged before breakfast. It sort of takes awayone's appetite, you know, " he added, coolly eyeing his adversary overthe barrel of his pistol. 

"Well, if you ain't the most impudent cuss I ever seen!" cried Blake, bythis time almost on the point of exploding. 

"Perhaps I am, " answered Dick, the faintest smile playing about thecorners of his mouth. "You're putting up a pretty big bluff, Jim, but Ihappen to be holding the cards in this game and I rather think you'llstay and see it out. 

"Bob Carlton, " he continued, addressing the prisoner whom the Captainhad freed, "there's a black horse in the corral back of the house; jumpon him just as he is and make tracks out of here as almighty fast as youknow how!"

"Thank you, Dick, I'll not forget you!" cried Carlton, starting in thedirection of the corral but, catching sight of Miss Van Ashton, hestopped short. "I--I beg your pardon, Madame, " he stammered, "but wouldyou mind telling me your name?"

"I can't see what business that is of yours!" replied Bessie curtly andwith a toss of the head, turning her back upon him. 

"I meant no offense, Madame--I--"

"Van Ashton's her name, " said the Captain. 

"Van Ashton!" he exclaimed. 

"You had better be moving, Carlton--you damn fool!" came Dick's angryvoice. "The next time you're in for a funeral I may not be around tostop it!"

Carlton needed no further urging. The sound of a horse going at fullspeed was presently heard on the road beyond the _Posada_. 

"Don't any one move, " said Dick quietly, as all listened in silence tothe sounds which grew fainter and fainter until they ceased altogetherin the distance. 

"He's got a good mile start by this time, " said Dick at length, coollylowering his pistol and returning it to his pocket. "Gentlemen, " hecontinued, leisurely descending the veranda, "you're at liberty tofollow him if you like. "

"After him, boys!" yelled Blake, suddenly aroused to fresh action. 

"It's no use, Jim, " said one of his men, "our hosses is cleaned blowed. "

"Damnation!" growled Blake, tugging nervously at his beard. "And now, Dick Yankton, " he continued, confronting him squarely with both feetspread wide apart and his hands thrust to his elbows in his trouserpockets, "the question is, what's to be done with you? I just guesswe'll make an example of you for interfering with the law. "

"And I guess you won't do anything of the kind, Jim Blake, because thereisn't a white man in the country that will help you do it. "

"The devil!" ejaculated Blake, completely taken aback by Dick'scoolness. 

"I guess Dick's about right there, Jim, " spoke up another of his men. 

Blake was about to continue the argument, but realizing that thesentiment of his men was not with him and that his position was growingmomentarily more ridiculous, he ceased abruptly. Rough though he wasand of the swash-buckler type, he was neither insensible to the humor ofthe situation nor to the nerve it had taken on Dick's part to holdtwenty armed men at bay single-handed. It is usually a difficult matterto pocket one's pride, especially if one sees ridicule lurking justaround the corner, but few men were capable of resisting the charm ofDick's personality for long. 

"Come, Jim, be reasonable, " he said, laying his hand familiarly onBlake's shoulder; "Bob Carlton saved my life once and now we're quits. "

"He did? Well, that's the only good thing the sneakin' skunk ever done!Why didn't you tell us that before?"

"Because you didn't give me time. You would have hung him first and thenlistened to what I had to say afterwards. "

"Hum!" ejaculated Blake, "I guess you're about right there. "

"Boys, " continued Dick, turning to the others, "I'm mighty sorry to havespoiled your fun, but I'll see that you don't regret your visit to SantaFé. Come into the house and I'll tell how it happened. The cigars andthe drinks are on me!"

"Well, as I said before, Dick, " exclaimed Blake, "you're the cussedest, most contrariest feller I ever seen. You got the best of us this time, but I guess we'll about get even with you on the drinks before we'rethrough--won't we, boys?" and amid a chorus of laughter and good-humoredexclamations, the men, followed by Dick and Blake, crowded into thehouse. 

"What a country!" gasped Mrs. Forest after the last of them haddisappeared. "Have people here nothing to do but murder one another?"she asked in a despairing voice, sniffing vigorously at the bottle ofsalts her maid handed her. 

"Ze Saints be praised, zey do not!" cried the Señora who by this timehad regained her composure. "Such a zing 'as happened nevair before. "

"They are a little more free-handed out here than we are, " remarked theCaptain. "Where we come from, people allow a man to go free afterexhausting all the resources of the law, while here, they quietly hang ascoundrel when they catch him without making any fuss about it. It'smuch simpler, you know. "

"Beautiful!" echoed the Colonel. 

VIII

After much persuasion and further caustic remarks on the country and apeople whose chief occupation seemed to be that of shooting and hangingone another, Mrs. Forest was finally induced to enter the house, leavingBlanch and Bessie seated on the bench beneath the cottonwood tree wherethey had collapsed, the result of the shock their nerves had sustained. 

Their presence seemed as incongruous with their surroundings as that ofsome delicate hot-house flower blooming in the midst of the desert. 

"Could you have believed it if you hadn't seen it?" asked Bessie, thefirst to break the silence. "Is it all real, or are we still dreaming? Iwish somebody would pinch me, my wits are so scattered, " and she passedher hand across her eyes as though to dispel some dreadful nightmare. 

"I never imagined, " replied her companion in a vague uncertain tone ofvoice, like one laboring under the influence of a narcotic, "that suchpeople existed anywhere outside of books, and yet the samples to whichwe have just been introduced make characters of fiction look tame incomparison. Oh, dear!" she burst forth, "who could have imagined it?"

"What a transition--I can't understand it!" said Bessie. "I feel likeone who has just dropped from the sky to earth. "

"No wonder! I, too, am still seeing stars. Jack certainly must be mad, else how could he have ever picked out such a forsaken land whoseinhabitants seem to consist chiefly of ruffians and black women?"

"It's simply incomprehensible after all he's seen of the world, " repliedBessie. "Did you notice how he enjoyed our discomfiture? How it was allhe could do to keep from laughing in our faces?"

"The brute!" cried Blanch. 

"If we had only realized to what we were coming--" Bessie began. 

"Oh, it's too late to say that!" interrupted Blanch. "Now that I'm here, I'm not going to turn back; I'm going to see this thing through. Andwhat's more, " she added with unmistakable emphasis, "I'm going to seethat woman! Have you noticed any one that looks like her?" she askedcautiously, lowering her voice and looking about suspiciously, as sherose from her seat. 

"Pshaw!" laughed Bessie, also rising and shaking the dust from herskirt. "You've scarcely talked of anything else since we left home. Why, I really believe you are beginning to be jealous of this creature ofyour imagination. It's too absurd to suppose that Jack--"

"Is it any more impossible than the people and things we have justencountered?"

"Nonsense! Jack in love with some half-breed--that dusky beauty inbreeches who rides astride, and whom he happened to mention to us? It'spreposterous!"

"My dear, " resumed Blanch calmly, "don't deceive yourself. My woman'sintuition tells me that I'm right. Jack's notion of beginning a new lifeis all nonsense--there's a deeper reason than that for this change inhim. Take my word for it, there's a woman at the bottom of it for whatpossible attraction could this horrid country and its people have for acivilized being?"

"I can't believe it, " answered Bessie; "you know how fastidious Jack is. Besides it was only a fleeting glance that he caught of the woman hementioned--and that in the twilight. "

"A glance is quite enough for a fool to fall in love with a phantom, "retorted Blanch warmly, thrusting the ground vigorously with the pointof her sunshade. 

"They say, " she went on, "that these dark beauties of the South possessa peculiar fascination of their own--that they have a way of captivatingmen before they realize what's happening. They sort of hypnotize them, you know. "

"But not a man of Jack's type!"

"Oh, I don't mean to infer that she's beautiful, " continued Blanch. "Attractive she may be, but how could anything so common be reallybeautiful? It's not that which worries me--it's the state of his mind. He has evidently reached a crisis. As long as I can keep him in sighthe's safe, but should he be left here alone with one of these women inhis present frame of mind, there's no knowing what might happen. Anywoman if fairly attractive and a schemer, can marry almost any man shehas a mind to. You know, " she added, "he's not given to talking withouta purpose and usually acts even though he lives to repent of itafterwards. Why, if he were left here, he might marry from _ennui_, whoknows? One hears of such things. "

"Heavens!" ejaculated Bessie, "it makes one shudder to think of it!Hush!" she added, nodding in the direction of the house where theCaptain appeared in the doorway and halted, regarding them with a mixedexpression of curiosity and amusement. 

"Well, " he said at length, descending to where they stood, "how do firstimpressions of the place strike you? It's not so dull, after all, isit?" he added, concealing his mirth with difficulty. 

"It's charming, " replied Blanch in her richest vein of sarcasm, addressing him for the first time since her arrival. "What delightfulsurroundings, and what congenial people one meets here!"

The Captain burst into an uproarious fit of laughter. The sight ofBlanch had sent a sudden thrill through him that told him plainly enoughhow deeply rooted had been his love and that he had not yet succeeded ineradicating it entirely from his heart as he had supposed. 

The spark of the old love still smoldered within him, and would shesucceed again in fanning it into flame? He had not forgotten, however, that he had suffered, and her presence acted like some wonderful balm tohis wounded soul. It was his turn now and he could afford to humor her. Though there was nothing triumphant in his manner, he, nevertheless, enjoyed that sneaking feeling of satisfaction which most of usexperience on beholding the discomfiture of those who have treated uslightly. Moreover, he thoroughly realized what the coming of Blanch andhis family meant. They had come to laugh at him and his surroundings--toridicule his ideas. The great harlot world had come to pooh-pooh--toscoff and laugh him out of his convictions, and no one knew better thanhe did what the mighty power and influence of the great civilized guffawmeant. For had he not, during his diplomatic career, seen the primitiveman laughed out of his cool, naked blessedness into a modern, cheap pairof sweltering pantaloons? But things were now equal, and this promisedto be the most exciting diplomatic game in which he had yet engaged. Thedefeat of Spain and the annexation of the Philippines were trifles incomparison. And he decided then and there to make the most of it--thatcome what might, all who entered this game would pay the price to thelast farthing. Time and circumstances would prove who was right--they orhe. 

"Do you know, " he said at length, "I don't pity you a bit; it serves youright for coming. "

"Pity?" retorted Bessie. "Do we look like a pair of beggars that havecome two thousand miles to crave pity at the feet of the high and mightyCaptain Forest? Your condescension, Cousin, is insufferable, " she added. 

"I was just thinking, " he resumed, thoroughly enjoying his cousin'swrath, "that you had better drop your silly affectations and spoiledways while here. "

"Really!" burst out Bessie again, her face flushing with growingindignation. 

"I do, " he returned placidly, "for somehow, the people about here don'tseem to appreciate such things. "

"I can readily believe it, " answered Blanch with a contemptuous laughand hauteur of manner that were almost insulting. "I don't wonder youfeel uneasy on our account considering that we have never enjoyed theadvantages their social standards offer. We trust, however, for the sakeof old friendship, that you will overlook our shortcomings. A lesson inmanners might not be lost on us, " she added with a withering glance andtone that would have reduced any other man to a sere and yellow leaf. 

She paused, her delicately gloved hand resting lightly on the handle ofher sunshade on which she leaned, throwing the graceful outline of hertall slender figure into clear relief against the green background oftrees and shrubs. A strange light came into her beautiful blue eyes, softening the expression of her face; a face that had been the hope anddespair of many a man; a face that was not alone beautiful but alive andinteresting; a face into which all men longed to gaze and once seencould never be forgotten. 

Only one man had ever resisted the power and fascination of that face;the man whom she had flung from her in an ungovernable fit of passion;the man whom she either had come to claim as her own again, or tohumiliate as he had humiliated her. Who could guess the real motive thatprompted her to humble her pride so far as to follow him? Was it love orhatred? Who could say? Her delicate, coral lips curled with just thesuggestion of a sneer as she raised her eyes to his again and said in atone of contempt: "So this is the place where your wild woman lives--"but the words died on her lips. Her head came up with a jerk and herfigure suddenly straightened and stiffened as her gaze became riveted onthe face of Chiquita who stood just opposite on the veranda lightlypoised with one foot on the steps. 

It would have been interesting to have read the thoughts of these twowomen as they stood silently confronting one another, each taking themeasure of the other. 

The contrast between the two could not have been more striking. Thesoft, delicate, well-groomed figure of Blanch, the accomplished woman ofthe world, with eyes intoxicating as wine and a glowing wealth of goldenhair, tempting and alluring as the luxuriance of old Rome at the heightof her triumphs before her decadence set in--the last fair breath of herancient glory--the best and fairest that modern civilization hadproduced. She had no need of the artificial head-gear and upholsterywith which the modern society belle is wont to bolster up herself. Therewas not the slightest trace of rouge on her lips or cheeks. She hadlearned that simple food, fresh air and sleep and exercise were the onlypreservatives for the form and complexion. Spoiled though she was, shewas genuine to the core. 

On the other hand, what the symmetrical well-rounded lines of Chiquita'sfigure lost by the unfair comparison of her worn and faded dress withthat of the latest Parisian creation, was more than compensated for bythe heavy luxuriant masses of blue-black hair, straight nose, large, dark piercing eyes that shone from beneath delicately penciled, broadarching brows, and the mysterious hawk-like wildness of her gaze andappearance and general air of strength and power, baffling andinscrutable as the origin of her race; a face and figure whichexemplified the perfect type of a race that carried one back to theforgotten days of ancient Egypt and India. 

Truly, twice blessed or cursed by the gods was he to be loved by twosuch women; the one fashion's, the other nature's child. 

The look of embarrassment on Captain Forest's face, together with theludicrousness of the situation, caused Bessie to burst into a sudden fitof laughter into which Blanch, in spite of herself, was irresistiblydrawn. Fortunately for the Captain, he did not entirely lose hispresence of mind as one is apt to do who unexpectedly finds himselfbetween two tigers about to spring. He did the only sensible thing a mancould do under the circumstances. He retired precipitately, leaving thefield to whomsoever wished it most. 

"The Señoritas laugh, " said Chiquita at length, the first to speak. There was a strange light in her eyes as she slowly descended theveranda and came toward them. The sound of her full, rich, musicalvoice, colored with a soft accent that was pleasing to the ear, instantly brought Blanch and Bessie to themselves. 

"Perhaps, " she began again calmly, "it is because I am poor?"

"Oh, no, Señorita, how could you imagine--" exclaimed Blanch, recoveringher breath. 

"Then perhaps it is because I am an Indian and red, not white likeyourselves?"

"Are you an Indian, Señorita?" asked Blanch. "I thought you were aMexican. "

"And if I were, I would not be ashamed of it!"

"What a strange creature!" thought Bessie. 

"But why did the Señoritas laugh when they saw me?" persisted Chiquita, her expression softening a bit, a faint smile illumining her face. 

"Believe me, Señorita, " replied Blanch, "we were not laughing at you atall. We were laughing at Captain Forest. "

"Ah, the Señor!" ejaculated Chiquita. 

"Yes, " continued Blanch, "we had already heard of you through CaptainForest, and--I--" she hesitated, "I really can't explain because youwouldn't understand, you know. "

"But I do understand, Señorita, " answered Chiquita quietly. "You do notdeceive me, and since you refuse to tell me why you laughed, I shall beobliged to tell you. I think I can guess the truth. "

"Really, I'm curious!" and Blanch smiled compassionately. 

"Ah, you think I can't read your face, " and Chiquita smiled in turn. "Señorita, " she continued with sudden emphasis, "you love the Señor!"Blanch started, the attack was so sudden, her face coloring in spite ofher endeavor to conceal her confusion. 

"Yes, Señorita, you love him. "

"How do you know I love him?" laughed Blanch lightly in turn, by thistime thoroughly mistress of herself. "Why, you have only met me for thefirst time!"

"How do I know? Because I am a woman. I saw you as you spoke to him. Your whole manner betrayed you--your voice, your eyes. Yes, Señorita, "she added with growing passion, fixing her dark piercing eyes on thoseof Blanch, "you laughed because a poor girl like me of a different raceand color, a race despised by you white people, should have imaginedthat Captain Forest might possibly cast his eyes upon her--"

"Señorita!" cried Blanch protestingly. 

"It is the truth, " continued Chiquita passionately, "and what is more, Iwill tell you frankly that I--I, too, love the Señor!"

"I thought so!" exclaimed Blanch. 

"Yes, I love him--love him as you do--love him as you can never lovehim, Señorita!"

"What makes you think so?" asked Blanch, endeavoring to stifle theemotion Chiquita's passionate words aroused within her. 

"I know it, " she answered quietly; "something tells me so. And should henot love me as I love him, my life will go out of me swiftly andsilently like the waters of the streams in summer when the rains cease;my soul will become barren and parched like the desert, and I shallwither and die. "

"Die?" echoed Blanch. "Nobody dies of love nowadays, Señorita, " and shelaughed lightly. 

"Perhaps not among your people, but with Indians it is different. Whenwe love it is terrible--our passion becomes our life, our wholeexistence! Such a confession sounds absurd perhaps, but you assumed anair of superiority--racial superiority, I mean--a thing which I know tobe as false as it is presumptuous. I might assume the airs and attitudeof one of your race if I chose, but you laughed, and the race-pride inme cries out that I should be to you what I really am--an Indian, notthat which I have learned and borrowed from the white race. "

"How extraordinary!" thought Blanch. Surely such passion was short livedand a weak admission on the part of her rival. She was a true characterof melodrama--one which she had seen a hundred times on the stage. Thebattle was hers already--she would win. She heaved a sigh of relief, anddrawing herself up to her full height, assumed an attitude of ease, anair of patronage and condescension that only Blanch Lennox could adopt. She could afford to be generous to a child, treat with lenience thisclever _ingenue_ who in this age could die, or at least imagine herselfdying of love. 

"Perhaps, " resumed Chiquita, with an air of naïveté that seemedperfectly natural to her, "you women do not love as passionately as yourdarker sisters?"

"Oh, I don't know about that, Señorita, " answered Blanch with warmth. "At any rate, you in all probability will have an opportunity to judgethat for yourself. "

Chiquita gave a little laugh, then said: "Señorita, you love CaptainForest and so do I. Let it, therefore, be a fair fight between us, andin order that you may know you can trust me, I give you this, " anddrawing a small silver-mounted dagger from out her hair, she handed itto Blanch who took it wonderingly. 

"It is often safer, " she added, "for a man to go unarmed in this landthan for a woman. But as I said, I shall henceforth be to you what Iam--an Indian. It is what a woman of my people would do were she tomeet you in my country under similar circumstances; what I would havedone had I met you before I came here. The knife signifies that, with itgoes the sharp edge of my tongue--that I shall take no unfair advantageof you. "

Blanch toyed musingly with the pretty two-edged knife, admiring itsrichly carved silver handle. Surely she was right after all. Chiquitawas a true child of the South whose passions subsided as quickly as theyburst into flame. And as for the knife, it would make an excellentpaper-cutter. 

"Oh, dear, this is too absurd!" she exclaimed. And no longer able tocontrol herself, she burst into a peal of laughter in which was easilydetected the scorn, good humor and pity she felt for her would-be rival. 

Perhaps Chiquita was as much puzzled by Blanch's behavior as the latterwas by hers, for all the while Blanch laughed, she also regarded herwith an expression of mingled curiosity and amusement. 

"Señorita, " said Blanch at length, heaving a sigh, "who are you?"

The latter did not reply immediately. Her face took on an earnestexpression and for some moments she stood silent, gazing straight outbefore her as though oblivious to her surroundings. Then, suddenlyrecollecting herself, she said:

"I am a Tewana, and am called the Chiquita. My father was the Whirlwind, the War Chief of my people. "

"The Whirlwind?" echoed Blanch. "What an appropriate name for asavage!"

"Ah, but you should have seen him! He was the tallest man of the tribe. "

"Do you know, " said Blanch musingly, "I fancy you must be something likehim, Señorita. "

"In spirit perhaps, but only a little, " she answered. "I often wish thatI were more like him, for although he was a child in many things, he wasa man nevertheless--civilization had not spoilt him. "

Again that dreamy, far-away look came into her eyes and again she seemedto forget for the moment the presence of the two girls as her thoughtsreverted to the past. 

"Señorita, " she said at last, "when one like me stands on the thresholdmidway between savagery and civilization and compares the crudities andat times barbarities of the one with the luxuries and vices of theother, he often asks himself which is preferable, civilization and itsfew virtues, or the simple life of the savage. Which, I ask, is thegreater--the man who tells the time by the sun and the stars or he whogauges it with the watch? I have listened to your music and gazed uponyour art and read your books, but what harmonies compare tonature's--what book contains her truths and hidden mysteries? When Icame here I was taught to revere your civilization and I did for a timeuntil the disillusionment came, when I was introduced to the great worldof men and discovered how shallow and inadequate it was. Your mechanicaldevices are wonderful, but as regards your philosophies, the least saidof them the better. Spiritually, you stand just where you begancenturies ago, and I found that I should be obliged to deny theexistence of God if I continued to revere your institutions. 

"Believe me, Señorita, for I speak as one who knows both worldsintimately, nature's and man's, that the great symphony of nature, thethrob of our Mother Earth, the song of the forest, the voices of thewinds and the waters, the mountains and plains, and the glory of thestars and the daily life of man in the fields, are grander by far, andmore satisfying and enduring than all the foolish fancies and artificialharmonies ever created by civilized man. "

Her words struck home. For the first time Blanch became thoroughly aliveto the danger of the situation. This passionate child of the South hadchanged suddenly to a mature woman, and a chill seized Blanch's heart asshe began to realize her depth and power. Again she was all at sea, andin a vain effort to say something, she stammered:

"Señorita, you are certainly the strangest person I ever met!"

"Not strange, only different, " laughed Chiquita, throwing back her headand meeting Blanch's full gaze. "Señorita, " she continued, "you arebeautiful--more beautiful than any woman I have ever beheld. My heartstands still with fear and admiration when I look at you, for men areoften foolish enough to love the beautiful women best. I fear this isgoing to be a bitter struggle, but let us bear one another no malice inorder that we may both know that she who triumphs is the better woman. "Frank though her words were, they caused Blanch to wince, while a floodof passion which she could ill conceal dyed her cheeks a deep crimson. 

"Life's usually as tragic as it is comic, " laughed Chiquita lightly, slowly moving in the direction of the highroad. "It's strange, isn'tit, " she exclaimed, pausing and looking back, "that a queen and a beggarshould dispute the affections of the same man? Such things occur in thefairy-tales one reads in the books in the old Mission, but seldom inreal life, " and she was gone. 

IX

Considering an all-night ride over a rough road in a lumbering oldSpanish stagecoach, and the thrilling, harrowing events that succeededtheir arrival at the _Posada_, it is little wonder that Mrs. Forest tookto her bed early in the day on the verge of a nervous collapse, or thatColonel Van Ashton, contrary to his habit, retired early in the eveningfirmly convinced that his nephew was suffering from an acute attack oflunacy which took the form of a mania for everything that was wild andbizarre; everything in fact that was contrary to the Colonel's views oflife. 

How unfortunate that his nephew had not shown signs of madness earlier!It would have been so easy with the assistance of the family physicianand lawyer to have confined him in a private sanitarium. And the Colonelfondly pictured his nephew wandering distractedly through a long suiteof padded cells--but, alas! the bird had flown. Such things were alwaysexpedited with such felicitous despatch in those parts of the earthinhabited by civilized men, but here where everybody was equally mad, where chaos reigned, and nobody either recognized or respected beings ofa superior order, what could be done to check the headlong career of hisnephew who with twenty millions was rushing straight to destruction?

No wonder God had long since abandoned this land to his majesty, thedevil who, as in the days of Scripture, roamed and roared at will. Noone having passed twenty-four hours in the country could possibly doubtthat his cup of joy was running over. Where his nephew had concealed hisfortune was also a source of mystery to him. He certainly had displayedthe diabolical cunning that is characteristic of the mentally deranged. Possibly he had concealed it in Mexico, but to combat the institutionsof that land was like attempting to stem the tides. 

The thought of those twenty millions tortured the Colonel's mind almostbeyond endurance, and he groaned aloud as his imagination pictured themrolling in a bright, glittering stream of gold and silver coins into thegutter for the swine that waited to devour them. 

Such were the Colonel's reflections as he sat on the edge of his bed inhis shirt sleeves and wearily removed his tight fitting, dust-begrimed, patent-leather shoes with the assistance of his valet. 

How his feet and back ached! He wanted sympathy, but got none, theothers being too much occupied with their own woes to think of hiscomfort. On the walls of the room were hung numerous cheap biblicalprints--the very things he abominated most. Among them, just over thefoot of the bed, on the very spot where first his gaze would alight onopening his eyes in the morning, hung a small colored print of theMadonna. No wonder the people of this land spent so much time crossingthemselves and calling upon her for protection--they certainly had causeto. The room, in his opinion, was a veritable rat-hole; the placelittle better than what one might expect to find in a suburb of hell. 

The exertions of the last two days had been more than mortal couldendure. Never had he felt so completely fagged, and it was with nolittle concern that he contemplated the reflection of his face in thesmall oval mirror which hung on the rough gray plaster wall opposite, just over the small, cheap, brown-stained wooden bureau. The sight ofhis countenance, as is the case with most of us who have not yet enteredthe limbo of senile decrepitude and still dare look ourselves in theface, was always a source of extreme satisfaction to him. He held it inthe highest esteem as though it were the head of some beautiful antiqueApollo, and in his, the Colonel's estimation, was the handsomest face onearth. 

Indeed it was a handsome face, and like many others both in and outsideof his particular set, he devoted hours to its preservation. 

What was John, his valet, for? To press his clothes and run errands? Notat all. He was there to massage that precious face and drive away allharassing signs of care and age by means of a liberal use of cold creamand enamel. In the present instance, barring a sun-scorched nose, hisdelicately rouged cheeks like his exquisitely manicured finger tipsblushed with rose of vermilion like those of the daughters of Judea ofold, contrasting favorably with his dark eyes, wavy white hair, andmustache and eyebrows dyed a jet black. His regular features, longslender white hands, and tall erect figure betokened the born aristocratof the spoiled, luxurious type. 

In spite of his determination not to sleep a wink, this overindulgedchild and arch hypocrite, fell asleep almost the instant his tired headtouched the pillow, and would have slept to a comparatively late hourhad it not been for the ceaseless crowing of a cock in the barnyard, awakening him at daybreak. 

What a land, where people were not even permitted to sleep! Vagueapprehensions for the future went flitting through his mind, and, as helay in bed moodily contemplating through the window the first sunrise hehad witnessed in years, he cursed fate and his nephew, and secretlyvowed that he would wring that infernal bird's neck at the firstopportunity. 

Mrs. Forest's mental attitude resembled that of her brother's, but withBlanch and Bessie it was different. The strangeness and novelty of thesituation so different from anything they had hitherto experienced, began to interest them in spite of their previous determination to bebored. That evening they had visited the plaza with the Captain and DickYankton and had witnessed the dances beneath the great _alamos_ orpoplar trees that surrounded the square, braving the risk ofcontamination which Mrs. Forest had vainly protested would be sure toensue should they mingle with the populace--the Mexican-Indian rabble ofwhich it was composed--a distinction which only she and the Colonelseemed able to divine, for had it been a garlic-tainted Egyptian orNeapolitan mob, little objection would have been raised to their going. The sights amused and interested them, and after an hour's milddissipation, they returned to the _Posada_ in time to meet a few of theSeñora's guests in the garden, among whom was Padre Antonio. The quaint, inborn courtesy of the well-bred Spaniard was a revelation to them;something they imagined did not exist outside of Spain. 

The charm of the Padre's simple manner and ways proved no lessirresistible to them than to the rest of the world, and they marveledthat he spoke English so well. His intimate knowledge of the people andthe customs of the country threw a new light on them, reconciling thegirls to many things that had seemed incomprehensible. 

The Señora, out of consideration for the ladies, by whose presence shewas greatly honored, had relinquished her rooms to them; the best andmost comfortably furnished which the _Posada_ afforded. 

It was a late hour before the girls retired for the night. There was somuch to talk over, and when they did finally lay themselves down torest, it was with the conviction that Captain Forest was not quite somad as they had supposed. He was at least a harmless lunatic and in nodanger of running amuck. 

As for Bessie, the gentle hand of sleep soon closed her eyes, and sheslept the sleep of a tired child. With Blanch it was otherwise. 

How could she sleep with the face of Chiquita constantly before her andthe pangs of jealousy gnawing at her heart? How stupid to have imaginedher to be one of those bovine women with large liquid eyes who, figuratively speaking, pass the major portion of their lives standingknee-deep in a pond, gazing stolidly out upon the world; a fat brownwench upon whose hip a man might confidently expect to hang his hat bythe time she has attained the age of forty. 

Nothing could have been farther from the mark. She might have known thatJack could not have been caught with so thin a bait. All night long shetossed on her pillow, or silently rose to gaze at the stars from thewindow. 

"Oh, if she only were not so beautiful!" she moaned as the first palestreaks of light in the east told her that day had finally dawned, andshe crept stealthily back to bed again. Of course Jack, the wretch, wassleeping peacefully--that was the irony of fate! What did he know ofsuffering? But he would pay for this!

Their rooms overlooked the _patio_, and from behind an angle of a screenshe could look straight across it into the garden beyond as she lay inbed. The bright shafts of the morning sun sifted down through thebranches of the trees and lay in patches of gold on the grass andflowers beneath and flooded the _patio_ with light. Above the tops ofthe trees and one corner of the low roof, the clear, pale blue skylinewas just visible. Butterflies and humming-birds darted in and out amongthe fragrant white clematis and honeysuckle and passion vines that hungfrom the arcades surrounding the court, or hovered over the fountain andbasin of gold fish in its center, edged with grasses and ferns. Thenotes of the golden oriole and cooing of pigeons and wood-doves minglingwith the silvery jingle of an occasional _vaquero's_ spurs, came fromthe garden beyond. 

How peaceful it was! After all, why was the place so unusual, sodifferent from the rest of the world? But forget where one was, and thescene might have been one in Algiers or Egypt, or in a town in Spain orNorthern Italy. And why, she asked herself, as her thoughts reverted toChiquita, was this Indian woman so very different from themselves?

Dress her as they were dressed, and place her in the propersurroundings, and she would easily pass for a Gypsy or a Spaniard. Wasthere any reason to believe that the queens of Sheba and Semiramis withtheir tawny skins were any less fair than she, Blanch Lennox, with herrosy, soft white complexion? Or Chiquita a shade darker than Cleopatra, the witch of the Nile, whose beauty caused the downfall of Antony andwith it the waning power and splendor of ancient Egypt?

Was her lineage superior to Chiquita's, the descendant of a long line ofrulers whose ancestry stretched back into the dim, remote past asancient as the hills, the record of whose lives and deeds stoodinscribed on the ruined temples and palaces scattered throughout theland where they once dwelt at a time when her European ancestors roamedthe wilderness half naked and clad in the skins of wild beasts?

White men of eminence had married Indians and their descendants wereproud of their lineage. True, Chiquita was an exception just as shetowered above most women of her race. And who were they, that theyshould criticize--vaunt their superiority in the face of the universalscheme of things? Were they really any better? The same passions, longings and aspirations that swayed them, swayed the Red man as well. 

Their daily lives were different--their aspirations were directed indifferent channels, that was all. What was true civilization andculture, any way? Who had ever succeeded in defining them? The so-calledcivilized world might prattle of culture. Its ideas compared with thoseof mankind as a whole were purely relative and of a local origin andcolor, and could not be gauged by a uniform standard of ethics. Whatpleases the one fails to attract the other. The man in power who talksof culture may be taken seriously by those of his own race who stand byand applaud his words, but remove him from his home surroundings andplace him on a footing of equality with those of a different race andenvironment and his arguments fail to convince. 

Did the harangues of Louis the Sixteenth's tormentors convince him ofthe ethical standards of universal justice, or John Brown's sacrificethe representatives of a slave-holding population?

Which is the most convincing--the example set by the early Spartans, orthat of the man who surrounds himself with every luxury and convenienceof modern life; the man who reads books and lives in a house and travelsby train and automobile, or he who dwells in a tent, who is ignorant ofletters, and prefers the slower locomotion of horse and foot? Who is thearbiter of fashion? The sun shines alike on the just and the unjust, thegreat world still continues to laugh and goes on its way in spite ofmen's philosophies, but tear up the map, as the French say, and whereare our standards and codes?

Prove it if you can, that the wild flower in the meadow is lessbeautiful than the one reared beneath the hand of the gardener. Argueand theorize as we will, our sophistries count for little when we arebrought face to face with the realities of life. The law of compensationand certainty of facts still hold the balance when the bed-rock of humanexistence is reached. One might as well expect the mountains to slipinto the sea, or the stars to pause in their courses to hearken to thevoice of a modern Joshua as a man in love with a vision of beauty, tolisten to ethics. 

It was quite evident that somebody had lied. In fact, all men of herrace had been lying from the beginning of time, for what, after all, didcivilization amount to if it were not convincing? Did it ever soothe awounded heart, stifle the pangs of jealousy, or was it amplecompensation for the loss of the great prize of life--happiness?

Civilization and blindness were fast becoming synonymous terms, andthere were even moments when one almost fancied one heard the laughterof the gods. Let the dull brute civilized herd sweep by, all itsmoralizing and sophistries could not arouse so much as a singleheart-beat where sentiment was concerned. 

The truth of these convictions surged in upon her with overwhelmingforce. Had Jack also noted them, she asked herself. 

Possibly, but not, perhaps, with the keener intuition of the woman. Shebreathed hard. Hot tears of rage, jealousy and disappointment surged toher eyes. She could endure it no longer--she felt as though she wouldstifle. Suddenly she sat bolt upright in bed and then sprang to thefloor, noticing for the first time the pretty little Mexican girl, Rosita, who at Bessie's summons, had entered and deposited a traycontaining oranges, chocolate and _tortillas_ on the table in the centerof the room. 

The dark circles beneath Blanch's eyes and her general appearance of adisheveled Eve told Bessie how little she had slept. 

"I knew you were thinking of her, " she said, throwing herself back inthe pillows and stretching her arms. Her eyelids drooped for a momentover her great violet eyes and she laughed lightly with the contentmentof one whose heart is free. 

"Of course I am, " returned Blanch, coloring and biting her lip. "Whatelse should I be thinking of?"

"Do you know, I rather like her, " continued Bessie, raising on one elbowand stretching herself again with the delicious satisfaction of one whohas slept soundly and well. 

"And I hate her!" cried Blanch. And seizing Chiquita's dagger which layon the table beside the tray, she plunged it viciously into an orange. 

X

Things began to assume a more favorable aspect. Even Mrs. Forest hadplucked up enough courage to venture beyond the confines of the_Posada's_ garden. 

Late one afternoon as she with Blanch and Bessie descended the verandasteps, preparatory to a stroll through the town, a horseman, dressed inthe height of Mexican fashion, shot suddenly round the curve in the roadat full gallop and drew rein before them, tossing the dust raised by hisanimal's hoofs into their faces. 

Dust and a horse's nose thrust suddenly into Mrs. Forest's face couldhardly improve a temper already strained to the breaking point. 

"Are people beasts--mere cattle of the fields to be trampled upon by ahorse?" she gasped, as soon as she had recovered sufficiently from hersurprise. 

"A thousand pardons--I did not see you!" replied the horseman, hisEnglish colored with a slight accent. 

"What are people's eyes for?" returned Mrs. Forest, making no attempt toconceal her irritation. 

"Mrs. Forest, I see you do not recognize me, " answered the horseman, smiling and raising his broad-brimmed _sombrero_ which partiallyconcealed his features. 

"Don Felipe Ramirez!" cried Blanch and Bessie in the same breath. "How, " exclaimed Blanch, "could you expect us to recognize you in thatcostume? Why are you masquerading in such a disguise?" Don Felipelaughed as he swung himself lightly from the saddle. 

"It's the costume of our people, " he answered, shaking them cordially bythe hand. "It's the one they prefer, without which one cannot alwayscommand their respect. They detest modern innovations and cling to thecustoms of their ancestors. It's a bit of old Mexico, that's all. Butwhat brings you here?" he asked, changing the topic of conversation. "Did you drop from the clouds? I would as soon have thought of findingoranges growing on the cactus as seeing you here. "

"Only a pleasure trip combined with a little exploration on our ownaccount, " answered Blanch indifferently. "We hope, " she continued, "toemulate the example of the old Spanish _Conquistadores_--some of yourancestors perhaps?"

"Then may your wanderings lead you southward. My _hacienda_ lies buttwenty miles from here, and from this moment, it is placed at yourdisposition. Not in the polite terms of the proverbial Spanish etiquettewhich presents the visitor with everything and yet nothing at all, butactually. Indeed, I shall expect to see you there soon. The life willinterest you, I know. "

"We certainly shall avail ourselves of the rare privilege, Don Felipe, "said Bessie. "Do you intend stopping here?" she asked. 

"For a few days, yes. A room is always waiting for me here. "

"How delightful!" exclaimed Blanch. "We shall expect to see a great dealof you. In the meantime, we shall visit the town and shall see you thisevening. Until then, _á Dios_, as you Spaniards say. You observe, we aremaking rapid progress in the language, " she added, smiling and glancingback at him over her shoulder as they moved away in the direction of thehighroad. 

"What a strange costume for a man like Don Felipe to wear! It's as gayand extravagant as a woman's!" said Bessie as soon as they were out ofhearing. 

"It's becoming though, " answered Blanch. "This is truly the land ofsurprises. I wonder what will happen next?"

"What can have brought them here, to this out-of-the-way place?" musedDon Felipe, throwing one arm lightly over the neck of his horse as heleaned gently against the animal. 

Don Felipe Ramirez was young and handsome--the handsomest and wealthiestman in all Chihuahua. One who measured his lands not by acres, but byhundreds of square miles, over which roamed vast herds of horses, cattleand sheep, and of which Chiquita might have been mistress had she sochosen. Within this vast domain were situated numerous villages ofMexican and Indian populations, subject in a measure to his command. Hisword, where it did not conflict with the central Government, was law;but Don Felipe, selfish and unprincipled though he was by nature, wastoo easy going ever to think of making unscrupulous use of such power. So long as things went smoothly, he was the last man to exercise hisalmost unlimited authority for the mere pleasure of dominating others asmany men might were they placed in his position. 

His leniency in governing, his lavish manner of living, and a way he hadof fraternizing with his people on occasions--the latter prompted notfrom motives of generosity, but purely from those of vanity and a loveof popularity--made him fairly popular among his subjects. It was whenDon Felipe wanted something in particular that he became dangerous, especially if that something lay within his jurisdiction. Then indeed, was he one to be feared. 

His appearance was striking; a swarthy complexion, thick, shiny, blackcurly hair and mustache, lustrous black eyes and delicate features, anda lithe sinewy body, every movement of which was cat-like and expressiveof treachery. 

His high-crowned, broad-brimmed _sombrero_ of gray felt was richlyembroidered with gold and silver. A slender, pale yellow satin tieadorned his soft white, heavily frilled shirt front. His soft grayjacket and leggins of goat skin, also ornamented with gold and silverbuttons and embroidery, were slashed at the sleeves below the elbow andknee and interlaced with filmy gold cords from beneath which shone apale yellow satin facing embroidered with tiny red flowers. A gayscarlet silken _banda_ from beneath which peeped the silver hilt of aknife, encircled his slender waist, while his feet were encased inrusset tanned boots adorned with spurs inlaid with gold and silver andwhich tinkled like fairy bells with every step he took. The trappings ofhis horse were also heavily inlaid with silver. Theatrical though hiscostume was, it became him well and harmonized perfectly with hissurroundings, completing the picture of a Spanish Don, therepresentative of a past era. A costume that was only to be seen in theremoter parts of the country--one which was becoming rarer each day. 

Four years had elapsed since he had last looked upon the familiar scenesabout him. Nothing appeared to have changed during that time as his gazewandered from the old _Posada_ to the garden beyond. He sighed, and amomentary expression of pain and weariness passed across his countenanceas he silently surveyed the scene which recalled memories whosebitterness was enough to overwhelm a man of maturer character and years. 

In the Indian _pueblo_, La Jara, had lived the beautiful _mestiza_ girl, Pepita Delaguerra, with whom he had fallen in love in early youth. 

The gentle, confiding nature of Pepita was ill suited to that of thepassionate, impulsive Felipe, and proved her undoing. For, when old DonJuan, Felipe's father, heard of his son's infatuation, he immediatelypacked him off to the City of Mexico with the injunction not to returnunder a year. An obscure half-caste for a daughter-in-law! Holy Maria!the thought was enough to cause his hair to stand on end. No, the oldDon had other plans for his son. Maria Dolores, Felipe's cousin, was thewoman he had picked out for his wife, and marry her he should if hewished to inherit his father's vast estates. In case he disregarded thelatter's wish and married Pepita, the estates were to go to the Church, so it was stipulated in Don Juan's will. But neither the Church nor oldDon Juan, as it afterwards proved, were a match for the clever Felipe. The handsome scapegrace had already secretly married Pepita. 

The strangest of all things is perhaps the irony of fate. Before theyear was up during which Felipe was charged to remain in the City ofMexico, both his father, Don Juan, and the priest who had performed themarriage ceremony for Felipe and Pepita, died. During his absence fromhome, the observant and quick-witted Felipe had learned not only manynew things, but had made the acquaintance of other women as well. At itsbest, the love of the passionate, hot-blooded Felipe and the gentlePepita could have endured only for a time. The attractions andfascinations of the Capitol opened his eyes to many things which he hadhitherto overlooked, especially, that there are many beautiful women inthe world, and always one who is just a little more beautiful than theothers if one took the trouble to look for her. And so it happened thathe forgot not only his honor, but his obligations to Pepita, anddestroying the record of their marriage which he managed to secure withthe assistance of a confederate, he turned a deaf ear to her pleadingsand went his way. 

What had he, Don Felipe Ramirez, who lived and ruled like a prince onhis vast estates, to fear from a pretty little half-caste Indian girl?

But Don Felipe was young and still had much to learn in the world. Theavenging angel that inevitably awaits us all at some turn or other inthe lane, stood nearer to him than he realized, and the vengeance whichfollowed was swift and complete. 

Pepita took poison and died, but she died not alone--she died in thearms of Chiquita who had but recently returned from the convent. 

The latter frequently accompanied Padre Antonio on his charitablemissions and thus it chanced that she made Pepita's acquaintance andlearned her story. Time passed and all went well with Felipe until theday he chanced to meet Chiquita. 

We may deaden our souls to the voice of conscience, disavow a belief indestiny and shut our eyes to those forces of the Invisible which, inspite of ourselves, we know to exist, but how is it, that no man eversucceeds in escaping his fate?

When Don Felipe Ramirez looked for the first time into the two darklustrous worlds of Chiquita's eyes, he beheld the height and depth ofhis existence. From that moment he fell at her feet and worshiped herwith a passion that consumed and mastered him. Waking and dreaming shewas ever in his thoughts--he could not live without her. But not untilhe was mad, ravished with desire, did she consent to become his wife. Asmile, or a gentle pressure of the hand were the only caresses shedeigned to bestow upon him; not until they were married would he bepermitted to embrace and kiss her, give rein to his passion. A strangeattitude for one of her nature to assume, and, as he looked back uponit, he wondered how he had endured it--that he had not suspectedsomething. 

At length the day set for the wedding arrived, and Chiquita with SeñoraFernandez drove in state to the old Mission church where Padre Antonioawaited them to perform the marriage ceremony. 

Don Felipe, in a state of exultation that lifted his soul to the clouds, stood waiting for her on the steps of the church as had been agreedbetween them; but as the two advanced, Chiquita suddenly paused beforethe door, and turning, tore the bridal-veil and wreath of orangeblossoms from her brow and flung them into his face, crying: "PepitaDelaguerra is avenged!" Then turning, she deliberately descended thechurch steps and reëntering her carriage, drove home, leaving Don Felipedazed and speechless before the crowd of spectators that had gathered towitness the passing of the bride and groom. 

Later she confessed the reason for her motives to Padre Antonio, but onecircumstance she withheld even from him, the nature of which Don Felipedid not suspect, but which he would have given worlds to know. 

Chiquita's conduct became the scandal of the country for miles around, and as is invariably the case, the majority of the women sided withFelipe. In more refined circles of society, her act would have beenconsidered highly reprehensible and Felipe overwhelmed with sympathy. His base ingratitude would have been lightly censured in the familiar, sugared terms of the most approved fashion. He would have been forgiven, and petted, and even lauded as a martyr--and then, the world would haveforgotten. With the Indian woman, however, it was different. 

On the altars of her people was still written, "blood for blood, " thesame as in the ancient days. 

Crushed, humiliated, his pride humbled to the dust, Don Felipe left thecountry and for four years sought to forget his shame and the taunts ofhis enemies in the distractions of the world. He traveled everywhere, was presented at the different Courts of Europe, and it was inWashington where his uncle was the Mexican Minister to the UnitedStates, that he met Blanch and Mrs. Forest and her niece. In vain did hetry to forget. In vain did he search for another woman to supplant hislove for Chiquita. He plunged into the wildest dissipation, but to noeffect. The beautiful face of the dark woman followed him everywhere, stood between him and the world, lured him, fascinated him still asnothing else could, tortured him day and night and he knew no rest. 

A thousand times he resolved to return and kill her, and a thousandtimes he relented, for he loved her as madly as ever and could not carryout his resolve. A prey to alternate fits of remorse and hatred, andtortured constantly by the knowledge of an unrequited love, the soul ofDon Felipe Ramirez suffered the torments of the damned. Hisunconquerable love for Chiquita devoured him, gnawed constantly at hisheart, and he cursed her--cursed her as only one of his temperament whohad suffered as he suffered, could curse. 

What could he do? Anguish succeeded anguish until he was at lengthdrawn back again as irresistibly as the magnet is drawn to the north, tothe woman he both loved and hated. He would throw himself at her feet. He, the proud, arrogant Don Felipe of former years, and bowed in thedust, implore forgiveness. Nothing was too hard. Any sacrifice she mightdemand of him, he would make. Surely, when she saw his remorse, hiscontrite humbled spirit, understood his suffering and realized that hecould not forget her, could not live without her, that he loved herstill through all the years of suffering, that his life was irrevocablylinked to hers, she would relent, forgive him--become his wife. 

His wife! The thought electrified, elated his being to an extent that itwas lifted for the moment from out the black depths of his despondency. If not, well then, there would be time for the fulfillment of that whichmust inevitably follow--either his death or hers. 

XI

"Holy Mother! but I am glad to see you again, Don Felipe Ramirez! Whatblessed chance has brought you back to us again?" Don Felipe startedlike one in a dream, and turning in the direction whence came the soundof the voice, he beheld Señora Fernandez standing on the verandaregarding him intently. 

"Doña Fernandez!" he exclaimed with genuine pleasure, advancing to meether, and extending his hand which she eagerly seized and held betweenboth her own. 

"_Muchacho--muchacho!_" she cried, clapping her hands as she releasedher hold on Don Felipe's. "Carlos, the _Caballero's_ horse!" shecontinued, addressing the _vaquero_ that appeared in the doorway of theInn at her summons and who advancing, took possession of Don Felipe'shorse and led him away to the stables. 

"Let me look at you, Don Felipe, " she continued, regarding him closely. "Why, you have not changed a hair! It might have been but yesterday thatyou left us. "

"And you, Doña Fernandez are still the charming, handsome mistress ofthe _Posada de las Estrellas_ to whom all men are irresistibly drawn. "

"Flatterer!" retorted Señora, laughing gayly and blushing like a girlof sixteen. How sweet it was to hear such words from a handsome_Caballero_ like Don Felipe! It reminded her of the old days when allmen thought her beautiful and went out of their way to tell her so. 

"It was unkind of you to remain away so long, Don Felipe. Your friendshave missed you sadly and have prayed for the day of your return. "

"Friends?" echoed Felipe with a sneer. 

"Aye, friends. You will find that you have more friends now than whenyou left us. "

"I can scarcely believe it. And yet, " he added, "I wish it might be so. "

"You shall learn shortly for yourself, " returned Señora. 

"How long, " interrupted Felipe, eager to change the drift of theconversation, "have the American ladies been here?"

"Ah, you have seen them?"

"Yes, they were just going out for a walk when I arrived. It was apleasant surprise to see them here. They are friends of mine. "

"You know them?"

"Yes. I met them a year ago in Washington. "

"_Dios!_ to think of it!" she exclaimed. 

"But what are they doing here?" he asked. 

"Ah! that is just what I would like to know myself, " replied Señora. "_Caramba!_ but they are grand ladies! They say, " she went on, "thatthey are traveling for pleasure, but what pleasure can such delicate, refined ladies possibly find in the desert, I should like to know?Judging from their talk and actions they can not have seen very much ofthe world. _Dios!_ you should have witnessed the scene they created theday they arrived. And yet, " she continued, "I like them and am glad theyare here. They have brought new life into the place. God knows it is nolonger what it used to be in the old days when Don Carlos, my husband, was alive, " she added with a sigh. 

Don Felipe smiled at the Señora's provincialism. What a great world layoutside that of her own, of which she was entirely ignorant. 

A trip to the City of Mexico during her honeymoon was the only journeyshe had ever taken beyond the confines of Chihuahua. 

"And then there is Mrs. Forest's brother, Col-on-el Van Ash-ton, " shecontinued, pronouncing the latter's name slowly and with difficulty. 

"Holy Maria! but he has caused us trouble! Nothing seems to suit him. "

"Colonel Van Ashton?" repeated Felipe. "Ah, yes, I remember him. "

"But that is not all, " interrupted Señora. "There is also CaptainForest, Mrs. Forest's son. He came here before the others and seemedvery much surprised and put out by their unexpected appearance. "

"Captain Forest?" repeated Don Felipe slowly, as if trying to recall achance meeting. "I have never met him. What is he like?"

"Ah, he's a grand Señor, " answered Señora with enthusiasm. "A_Caballero_ every inch, and rides a horse that's the devil himself. Why, only yesterday the brute kicked out the side of the corral, and afterchasing the men off the place who had been teasing him, calmly walkedinto the garden and rolled in my choicest flower-bed. "

"He must be a thoroughbred at any rate, " laughed Felipe. 

"Thoroughbred? He's the devil, I say! Captain Forest and his man, José, are the only ones that dare go near him. " Don Felipe drew a goldcigarette-case thickly studded with diamonds and rubies from the innerpocket of his jacket, and lighted a cigarette. 

"As I was saying, " Señora went on, "Captain Forest is a fine gentleman. He's a great friend of Señor Yankton, and--" she stopped abruptly. 

"And what?" asked Felipe suspiciously, closely scanning her face as hetossed away the burnt end of the match. 

"Oh, nothing, " answered Señora evasively. "Only much has transpiredduring your absence, Don Felipe. " She hesitated as though uncertain howto proceed, then said: "I might speak of certain things, but perhaps Ihad better not. They would not interest you, anyway. "

"Ah!" he said at length, endeavoring to conceal the emotion her wordsaroused. "I--I think I understand. You--you refer to her, I suppose?"There was a slight tremor in his voice and his hand trembled as heraised his cigarette to his lips for a fresh puff. 

"Yes, " she answered quietly. "I--I was about to say that she appears tobe interested in this Captain Forest. But of course, that's nothing toyou, " she added hastily, watching him narrowly the while. Her wordsacted like fire to tinder. 

"Interested in him?" he cried, starting violently and letting hiscigarette fall to the ground. His face grew ashen pale and his righthand involuntarily went to the knife in his sash. "No, no, it cannotbe!" he muttered excitedly. "Are you sure of what you say, DoñaFernandez? Tell me that it is not true--that it is a lie!" he almosthissed, his eyes glowing with the fires of passion and jealousy. 

"Why, what has come over you, Don Felipe Ramirez?" cried Señora inalarm. "Surely you cannot--she can be nothing to you any more?"

"Nothing to me? Why do you suppose I am here?" he answered. 

"_Madre de Dios!_" muttered Señora. 

"Doña Fernandez, " he began after a pause, his voice trembling in spiteof himself, "God knows I have tried to forget her, but I--I cannot!" andhis voice broke. 

"What?" cried Señora excitedly. "You don't really mean to say that youstill--love her?"

"I do, " answered Felipe fiercely, driving his heel furiously into theground. For some moments neither spoke. Then a flush of anger mounted toSeñora's brow and she cried:

"Fie! Don Felipe! Have you forgotten your self-respect? The handsomest, richest man in all Chihuahua running after an Indian--the woman whotreated you so shamefully--an ingrate who is unworthy of a love likeyours? If I could have had my way, she would have been whippedpublicly! What would Don Juan, your father, peace be to his soul, say ifhe were alive? Love her!" she cried in a frenzy of hatred and jealousy. "How can you possibly love her, Don Felipe Ramirez?"

"How can I love her?" retorted Felipe fiercely. "Why does the grassgrow? Why do the birds sing? Why do the streams run to the ocean? Why dothe flowers turn to the sun? Tell me that, Doña Fernandez, " he cried inagony and bitterness, "and I will tell you why I love her in spite ofmyself, in spite of what she did, in spite of every effort I have madeto resist her fascination! God!" and he struck his breast with hisclenched hand, "I wonder I did not kill her then and there, but I couldnot, I could not; I loved her so!"

"_Dios_, but this is strange!" gasped Señora, raising both hands for aninstant and then crossing herself devoutly as if to avert the power ofsome evil--the spell which seemed to cling to Don Felipe and bind him aswith hoops of steel. She did not realize that Chiquita belonged to thatrare type of beings who seem immortal; that it was impossible to imagineher other than young, that the years could work no change within her, and although Felipe had not yet seen her, his soul must flame up at thesight of her as of yore. 

Felipe was silent, his eyes cast on the ground. His face wore amalignant expression of pain and hatred, and he trembled in every limb. 

The revelation of his anguish startled her. She stepped close up to himand laying her hand gently on his shoulder, said in a voice full ofcompassion, almost of pity: "I understand, Don Felipe! You still see heras she was when you last knew her--it is but natural. Of course youcould not know, but she has changed since then. In the opinion of everyone, she has fallen, degraded herself. "

"Degraded herself? What do you mean?" asked Felipe, turning hissearching gaze upon her. 

"Only a fortnight ago, " answered Señora, "on the great day of the_Fiesta_, she danced publicly in Carlos Moreno's theater. "

"Chiquita danced in Carlos Moreno's hall? Impossible!"

"Don Felipe, " replied Señora with just the suggestion of a smile, "allthings are possible with a woman. "

"But why did she dance?" he asked. 

"I don't know; neither does any one else. They say she received threethousand _pesos_ in gold. "

"Three thousand _pesos_?" echoed Felipe. "What did she do with them?"

"Ah! that's the mystery! What did she do with them?" answered Señora. 

"It was not so much her dancing that scandalized the community, for weall know what a wonderful dancer she is. Nobody ever danced as she does, and we are willing to give her credit for it, but what did she do withthe money? That's the scandal of it! I have noticed no change in herdress, " she continued, "nor is it known that she has spent a single_peso_ as yet. "

"Strange, " he murmured. "I cannot understand it. "

"No more can I nor any one else, " answered Señora. "But I have beenforgetting my duty; I must prepare a room for you, Don Felipe. In themeantime, " she added, ascending the veranda and pausing for an instant, "be assured of the hearty welcome of your friends when they learn ofyour return. "

"Chiquita danced in public? I can't understand it!" he said aloud afterSeñora Fernandez had disappeared in the house. "And she interested inthis Captain Forest?" His face grew livid and then black with hatred asa fresh wave of rage and jealousy swept over him. 

"No, no; it cannot be!" he gasped, his left hand resting over his heartas though in pain. For some time he remained motionless as a statue, lost in thought with his eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly he raisedhis head with a quick jerk. His face no longer wore an expression ofpain and anguish, but one of settled, calm determination. 

"I have come just in time, " he said quietly. He smiled, and drawingforth his cigarette-case once more, he opened it and lit a freshcigarette. 

XII

Doña Fernandez could not sleep. All night long she tossed on her bed, repeating her conversation with Don Felipe and revolving what course topursue. She instinctively felt that a great tragedy of some kind wasimminent. Unless some plan of concerted action were immediately adopted, nothing could prevent it. 

She knew her people too well. A reckless, hot-blooded man like DonFelipe in his present mood could not be trusted for long, but mustsooner or later provoke a quarrel with Captain Forest, who she knew, would be equally dangerous if aroused. Since her conversation withFelipe she had noted the attitude of Blanch toward the Captain and herwoman's instinct had half guessed the truth. But beautiful andirresistible though Blanch appeared, there was Chiquita, more beautifuland attractive than when Felipe had last seen her, and also quite asdangerous. 

She knew that Felipe's passion was hopeless--that Chiquita would nothesitate to show her dislike and contempt for him anew--that shouldCaptain Forest be attracted to her also, she would act like a fire-brandbetween the two men. If only one of them might be persuaded to leave theplace, the clash which must inevitably occur, might be averted for atime at least, but this was clearly impossible. There was only onething to be done for the present--advise Chiquita of Felipe's return andwarn her of the danger that threatened them all if she provoked himunnecessarily. 

Hopeless though this plan seemed, Chiquita might for the Captain's sake, if she really cared for him, act more discreetly than was her wont. Butwhat could be expected from a woman in love? Who could tell how shewould act? Besides, she argued, all men are fools. They seem to be bornonly to become the playthings of women, the majority of whom areinvariably deceived by them in the end. 

How she hated her! To think of Don Felipe running after her, eating outhis heart, throwing away his young life for one like her! A love likehis going begging! Merciful God! was there no justice in this world? Andfor the moment, she was quite carried away by a paroxysm of fury. 

Ah, if only she, Doña Fernandez, were but ten years younger! But thechosen birds of Venus, the white doves of matrimony, were not destinedto hover over her head a second time. Tears of longing and vexationdimmed her eyes as she thought of the golden, halcyon days of youth thatwould never return. At any rate, Felipe and Chiquita must not meet untilafter she had warned the latter. Blanch must be used as a foil as longas possible. 

And so it happened that, when breakfast was over, Señora adroitlyarranged that Felipe should conduct the two girls for a morning's rambleto the pretty little cañon of the river which lay but a mile distantfrom the town where the foothills began; a plan that suited Blanchperfectly. She, too, had been doing some thinking over night and hadrecognized the possibility of using Don Felipe as a foil against Jack;he was certainly handsome and clever enough to serve the purposeadmirably. 

Captain Forest had gone for a ride an hour before for the purpose ofgiving his horse a short run to the foothills and back. So, when Señorahad seen the others safely off, she slipped quietly away in thedirection of Padre Antonio's house. 

It lacked a quarter of eleven when she left the house. She knew thatChiquita would have long since returned from the market and would be athome. So occupied was she with her thoughts as she hurried forwardintent upon her mission, she did not look up until she turned into theroad leading directly past Padre Antonio's gate, when she suddenlystopped short. Before her she beheld Captain Forest standing in front ofthe gate holding his horse, and Chiquita handing him a red rose. Anotherinstant, and Chiquita vanished through the gate into the garden andCaptain Forest, remounting his horse, came riding leisurely down theroad at a walk, inhaling the rose with evident pleasure. She drew backinto the shadow of the old wall and pressed close into the thick bushymass of white clematis vine which hung over it from above and waiteduntil he passed. 

It is the unexpected that always happens. The meeting between Chiquitaand the Captain was purely accidental. While returning from his ride, hehad been attracted by the beauty and luxuriance of Padre Antonio'sgarden as he rode by. He wheeled his horse about and drew rein beforethe open iron grating of the gate in order to obtain a better view ofit. Its flowers consisted chiefly of roses of different varieties andcolors. The air was spicy with their perfume and, as he inhaled theirfragrance in deep breaths, his attention was presently attracted by thefigure of Chiquita who appeared in the pathway before him, pausingbeside a luxuriant bush of blood-red blossoms and apparently quiteunconscious of his presence. The picture which she presented was one hecarried with him for many a day afterward. 

[Illustration: "The picture which she presented was one he carried withhim for many a day. "]

A small white dove strutted and cooed on the ground before her, whileanother flew down from the house-top and after circling above her head, also settled down beside its mate in the pathway. 

She was dressed in a short pale green skirt and bodice, the latter cutlow at the neck before and behind. The sleeves were short, reaching tothe elbow and terminating in a narrow frill of deep saffron, their sidesopen and interlaced with silvery cords. Two richly embroidered silkenshawls of a pale red color with long fringe and worn in Spanish style, adorned her dress. The one, pinned at the waist at the back andfollowing the outline of the bodice, passed up over her left shoulderand down in front to her breast where it was fastened with a goldenbrooch, the end falling in a graceful length of fringe. The other, alsofastened at the back of her waist, passed around her right hip anddiagonally down across the front of her skirt. Golden poppies adornedthe heavy masses of her lustrous black hair, worn high and held in placeby a silver comb. A saffron lace mantilla of the same deep shade as thatof the frill on her sleeves, fell in graceful folds from the comb to hershoulders, while her feet were clothed in silk stockings of the sameshade and soft brown beaded slippers of undressed leather. 

To complete this costume which only a Gypsy or one of Chiquita's tawnycomplexion would have dared essay to wear, a small pale red silken fanornamented with gold and silver spangles, hung suspended from her wristby a satin ribbon of deep orange which flashed in the sunlight like asplash of gold on a humming-bird's throat. 

It was not by some happy chance that the Captain found her arrayed insuch finery, as is so often the case with heroines of romance, but theresult of much premeditation and studied effect. Ever since her meetingwith Blanch she had dressed herself daily with terrible deliberation andnicety of precision, the same as every woman of flesh and blood wouldhave done under the circumstances, on the chance of Captain Forestfinding her at home when he came to pay his respects to the Padre as hehad intimated he would do. 

The thought of the innumerable dresses possessed by her rival, and thescantiness of her own wardrobe, composed though it was of the richestlaces, silks and satins in the style of a past era, was somethingappalling; enough to turn a stouter heart than hers. And had she beenanything else than an Indian, she would have sat down on the floor ofher room in the midst of her finery and wept copious and bitter tearslike the daughters of Babylon of old. The thought of the old dress whichshe had worn on the day of their meeting was not alone mortifying--itwas excruciating. One of those things which we hasten to forget. 

_Dios!_ how she must have looked to him in the regal presence of Blanch, gowned in her stylish traveling costume!

Don Felipe Ramirez would have kissed the dust from off the hem of suchan old garment, but would Captain Forest do the same? She could notafford to take any more risks with a rival like Blanch in the field. 

There is no knowing how long Captain Forest would have remained a silentspectator of the charming picture she presented, had not her attentionbeen attracted by the sound of Starlight's hoofs as he began to paw theground impatiently. She raised her head from the bush over which she wasbending and turned her gaze in the direction of the gate. 

"Oh!" she cried with a little start, silently regarding the Captain forsome moments. Then a smile slowly wreathed her lips and she broke into alight laugh. Her right hand involuntarily sought her fan which slowlyopened across the lower half of her face and she shot a glance at himover its rim with an ease and grace which only Spanish women have eversucceeded in mastering. The effect of this deft bit of coquetry, simpleand natural as were all her actions, was not lost upon the Captain. 

"I don't know whether I love you or not, " it said plainly as words, "but henceforth you shall be my slave. "

"How long have you been there?" she asked at length, slowly lowering herfan. 

"Only an instant, Señorita, " he replied, raising his hat. "I waswondering, " he continued, "whether it would be too much to ask you forone of those roses? One would not be missed among so many. "

"Ah, but they are precious, Señor _Capitan_--these especially; they aremy favorites, " and she swept her hand caressingly over the bush besidewhich she was standing. 

"For that reason I shall prize it all the more, Señorita. "

"Ah! you men have a way of using flattery to women whenever you wantanything of them. And yet, " she continued with just the suggestion of afrown, "a woman would be hard hearted to refuse--" Her eyes dropped foran instant, then looking up again, she said hesitatingly: "I wonder if Ican trust you?"

"Try me, " he pleaded. 

"I know it's foolish, but rather than have you think me less generousthan the women you have known, I shall give you one little one, CaptainForest, that is, on condition you never ask me for another, " andbreaking off one of the largest half-blown blossoms, she held it in herhand as though loath to part with it. 

"I promise, " said the Captain solemnly, dismounting and holding hishorse by the rein. "I dare not leave my horse, Señorita, " he added in atone of embarrassment, "he is unaccustomed to a town and feels strange, and should he take it into his head to bolt, he might do the firstperson he met an injury. "

"Indeed? I have often thought of your horse and wondered where you gothim. But, " she continued reluctantly, "since you cannot come to me, Isuppose I must come to you, " and passing through the gate, she stoodbefore him, rose in hand. 

"A truly magnificent animal, " she said, running her hand gently alongStarlight's neck. "I've been accustomed to horses from childhood andcan't help admiring a good one when I see it. "

Much to the Captain's surprise, the Chestnut did not resent her touch, but whinnied softly instead and laid his nose on her shoulder. Any oneelse but José and himself he would have seized with his teeth. Perhapsit was her way of approaching and handling him, or was it the subtleinfluence of that mysterious kinship which exists between the wildthings--strange and inexplicable to all but themselves?

"I thought I possessed the only pure Arab in Mexico, " she continued. "He's a small black horse with a white star in his forehead, and hasnever been beaten. You should look at the Raven some time--he wouldinterest you, " she added. 

"I should like to. Arabs are rare on this side of the Atlantic. Wheredid you get him?"

"He was a present from Count Don Louis de Ortega, of the City ofMexico. "

"Count Louis de Ortega?"

"Yes. He is the most charming old gentleman I know. He is PadreAntonio's great friend. "

"Ah!" ejaculated the Captain as though relieved. 

"I once spent a summer traveling in Europe with the Ortega family. Buthere is your rose, Captain Forest. I almost believe you forgot it. Horses are so much more interesting than flowers, " and handing him therose, she was back again in the garden before he could thank her. 

"_Á Dios, Capitan_ Forest, " she continued with the softest accentimaginable, lingering unconsciously on his name as she paused on theother side of the gate. Again the little fan opened, and looking backover it with a bewitching smile and arched eyebrows and her head heldcoquettishly on one side, she said as if to herself: "I wonder how longhe will keep it?"

His heart gave a great throb as he gazed upon that subtle, bewitchingvision before him, "Forever, Señorita!" he was about to reply, but shewas gone. 

It might be argued that a woman of Chiquita's metal would not have shownher hand thus lightly. Let his infernal beast bolt and trample the wholetown in the dust and himself in the bargain. If he wanted the rose, lethim come and get it; not a step would she move! Possibly, but let it notbe forgotten that she was in love--desperately in love; that the timefor quibbling had passed, that another woman equally fair would haveunhesitatingly waded through a river to deliver that rose to the Captainhad he asked for it. Destiny had placed Captain Forest in the saddle, just as it had decreed that Don Felipe Ramirez should pass the remainderof his days pursuing an illusive vision. If nature and convention nowswarmed at the Captain's saddle-bow, surely it was no fault of his. Hadhe not burnt his last bridge, snapped his fingers in the face of theworld, and turned his back upon it and ridden forth in search of thelost kingdom of Earth?

XIII

"The jade--coquetting openly on the highroad!" cried the Señorafuriously, stepping out from the shadow of the wall after the Captainhad disappeared down the road. 

"Will she stop at nothing? It's true, she loves him! What would DonFelipe do had he witnessed what she had just seen?" and she shuddered asshe paused breathlessly before the high iron gate, her cheeks aglow andher eyes flashing with indignation. Cautiously pushing open the gatewhich stood ajar, she paused for an instant on the inside, casting hereyes nervously about her in search of Chiquita, but seeing no one, sheadvanced slowly along the walk leading in the direction of the house. She had not far to go before she came upon the object of her quest, seated on a rough stone bench in the shade of a thick cluster oftamarisk bushes which grew close to the wall. 

The surprise Chiquita felt on seeing the Señora standing before her sounexpectedly, caused her to let fall the book which she was vainlyendeavoring to read--an action which the Señora regarded as an admissionof her guilt; and she exulted in her evident embarrassment. 

The episode of the rose had caused her to quite forget her mission forthe moment. From her general air of excitement, flushed face andflashing eyes, Chiquita rightly conjectured that something unusual hadhappened and that an outburst of some sort or other was imminent. Itcame like an explosion. 

"Holy Virgin!" she cried, eyeing Chiquita critically. "What is themeaning of this; dressed in your very best? Is this the Sabbath, or oneof the blessed Saints' days, or perhaps a Palm-Sunday that you shouldarray yourself thus? Mother of God! when has it become the fashion foryoung ladies to disport themselves in their best clothes on common, ordinary week days? Why, 'tis not even a Fish-Friday! Merciful Heaven!to what are we coming?" she gasped between breaths, clasping her handsand glancing heavenward. "Do such dresses grow upon bushes that they areso easily obtained? Doubtless, " she concluded with withering sarcasm, "when they are worn threadbare as they soon will be owing to suchconstant usage, you will purchase others with those golden _pesos_ whichyou earned so recently. "

Chiquita, accustomed to the Señora's outbursts, did not deign animmediate reply, but sat quietly fanning herself, a faint smilewreathing her lips; she was thoroughly enjoying the Señora's discomfort. What would not the latter give to know something concerning those_pesos_? Chiquita's composure under the fire of her words only tended toincrease her irritation. 

"Oh, I know why you have thus suddenly turned the peacock! You do notdeceive me! You have arrayed yourself thus for the grandSeñor--_Capitan_ Forest. "

"Bah!" ejaculated Chiquita composedly, as though nothing unusual weretaking place. "Is that all you have to say Doña Fernandez?"

"All! Is that not enough? Holy God!" she cried with increasing vexation. "You are in love--in love, I say!" A ripple of laughter bubbled over thetwo rosy petals of Chiquita's lips, revealing the pearly whiteness ofher teeth. Now that she realized the real cause of the Señora's anger, it was impossible to become angry herself. The Señora, however, was byno means abashed by Chiquita's indifference, and vigorously renewed theattack. 

"So our little ring-dove is in love, is she?" she continued mockingly, strutting back and forth before her. "You think _Capitan_ Forest willnotice you in that finery--that he will fall in love with you and willmarry you, and that you will become a grand lady like the SeñoritaLennox and ride in a fine carriage for the rest of your days. _MercedesDios!_ and all because you have succeeded in turning the heads of a fewcountry bumpkins that hang about the place casting sheep's-eyes at you. Ha, ha, ha!" she laughed derisively. "Believe me, when _Capitan_ Forestmakes up his mind to marry, he will not stoop so low to pick up solittle. "

"Doña Fernandez!" said Chiquita sharply rising from the bench with anominous look in her eyes. 

"Foolish child, " Señora went on without heeding her, "to imagine thatsome day your hands will be white like a lady's! I suppose you havenothing further to do to-day but to pick flowers?" she added, pausingfor breath. 

"I have never worried about my color, Doña Fernandez, " replied Chiquitaindignantly. "Indeed, I sometimes think it holds its own better thanthat of some persons I might mention. "

"Holy Mother! how your tongue runs on! Am I not to be allowed to sayanything? Oh, you do not deceive me! I saw you give him the rose as Icame here. If he's sensible, he'll throw it away. "

Chiquita laughed derisively. "Perhaps it is well for the world that allpeople are not so sensible as you are, Doña Fernandez, " and her fanclosed with a sudden snap. "So this is the advice you came to give me, Doña Fernandez? How very considerate of you!"

Her words recalled the Señora to the purpose of her coming. For sometime she paced up and down before Chiquita without replying. Thenstopping and facing her, and watching closely for the effect her wordswould have upon her, she said: "I came to tell you--that Don FelipeRamirez has returned. "

Chiquita started. "Don Felipe here?"

"Aye. He's stopping at my house, and I came to warn you that perhaps itwould be well to be cautious and exercise a little more self-controlthan is your wont when in his and _Capitan_ Forest's presence. "

The Señora was satisfied with her morning's work; her words had hadtheir effect. Besides, had she not had her say--unburdened her soul ofmany things which she had long been dying to give utterance to? Allthings considered she had scored. 

"_Á Dios_, Señorita, " she added sarcastically, her black eyes gleamingwith malicious satisfaction as with mock courtesy she bowed and turned, leaving Chiquita silent and motionless, her eyes cast on the ground andlost in thought. 

XIV

"Don Felipe here? The coward, the cur! How dare he return?" she criedwith a sudden outburst, her words ringing with indignation andresentment. She impatiently tapped the palm of her hand with her fan asshe began to realize what his return might mean to her. 

She knew that Señora had come to warn her not on her own account, butsolely on Don Felipe's. Knowing as she did the reckless character of theman, she thoroughly realized the danger, and knew that she must be onher guard, not only for her own sake, but for Captain Forest's as well. Like the bird of ill omen that he was, his presence boded no good toher. Already she felt his baleful shadow fall across her path. 

The unusual attention which Chiquita had begun to pay to her personalappearance did not escape the observant eye of Padre Antonio. Knowingthe nature of woman as few men did, he was wise enough not to questionher, experience having taught him that the majority of women can onlykeep a secret for a certain length of time. He smiled and admired, ortwitted her with the simple remark: "For whom are we dressing thismorning, Chiquita _mia_?" But she only laughed in reply, or shaking herfinger at him with a mysterious air, would say: "What woman would notdress for Padre Antonio?" But Padre Antonio was not so innocent as hetried to appear. Instinct, reënforced by long experience, told him thatthese were the first real symptoms of love which his wild little Indiangirl, as he chose to call her, had shown. 

He had always suspected that she never really cared for Don Felipe, andhad done his best to break off the engagement before the catastrophe hadovertaken the latter; but this was different. That of which he was loathto think, yet which he knew must inevitably happen, had come to pass. 

His knowledge of human nature told him that she had at last met the manworthy of her love, but, he asked himself, would Captain Forest, of adifferent race and reared under totally different conditions, reciprocate that love? He could not endure the thought that his littlegirl might be made unhappy should the Captain fail to respond to herlove. 

He, too, had seen Chiquita give him the rose from his study window whichoverlooked the garden. So, when the sermon upon which he was engaged wascompleted, he quietly descended to the garden with the intention ofadministering to her a gentle admonition as well as giving her a littlewholesome advice. Chiquita, hearing the sound of his measured tread onthe gravel as he approached along the pathway, reseated herself on thebench and began to fan herself unconcernedly. 

What a picture she made against the pale plumy branches of the tamarisk, thought Padre Antonio. 

"I thought I heard voices, " he said, seating himself beside her. "Hasany one been here?"

"Doña Fernandez has just gone, " replied Chiquita absently. "She has beengiving me some of her advice. "

"Advice?" echoed Padre Antonio, realizing the moment of his arrival tobe most opportune. "That's just what I have come to give you, mychild--advice!"

"What! You, too, Padre?" she exclaimed petulantly, looking at himinquiringly. "_Dios!_ what have I done that everybody comes to give meadvice when I have so many other things to think of?"

"Chiquita, " slowly began Padre Antonio, laying his hand gently on herown, "I have always known you to be wiser than most women, the result nodoubt, of your early life and training in the wilds where people mustlive by their wits for self-preservation if for nothing else. " He pausedthat he might the better collect his thoughts. She guessed what wascoming and began toying with her fan, an arch smile playing about herdelicate, sensitive mouth as she regarded him out of the corners of herlarge dark eyes. 

"Chiquita, " he continued, "I do not like your extravagance. Have a care, child, lest you become addicted to vanity. "

"Again, just what the Señora said! Am I so vain as all that, Padre_mio_, that you should be obliged to remind me of it?"

"Then why this continual display?" he asked pointedly. "You never usedto show such consideration for your admirers. " She felt that it wouldbe not only foolish, but worse than useless to attempt to fence aboutthe truth with him. 

"Ah, Padre _mio_, " she sighed softly, blushing and laying her handlightly on his shoulder and looking up into his face with deep lustrouseyes that softened with her words, "you--you forget--that I have neverbeen in love before. "

"In love!" echoed Padre Antonio in turn. "Ah! I knew it was that, " andinto his eyes there came an expression of tenderness and a far-away lookas though the word recalled memories of other days. Memories which musicor the glories of the sunset, or the cooing of the wood-dove at eventidemight awaken within the soul. The sunlight played along the path attheir feet. The breeze wafted the fragrance of the roses about them anda linnet, perched on the swaying branch of a tree overhead, gave voiceto his song, singing of the joy of life. Again he sighed, and Chiquitalooking up quickly, saw in his eyes that which she had never suspected. 

"Padre _mio_, " she said at length, lowering her eyes and slowly openingand shutting her fan, "have--have you ever been in love?"

"My child!" he cried with a start, suddenly recollecting where he was. "You forget what I am! What are you thinking of?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing!" she returned quietly. "Only it's so--so sweet tobe in love, Padre _mio_. And yet so--"

"So what, my child?" he interrupted hurriedly, as if to get throughwith the subject as quickly as possible. 

"So terrible, " she answered. 

"So terrible?"

"Yes, terrible, Padre _mio_, for I never knew before how ugly I am. "

"My poor child, you have quite lost your head!" he answeredsympathetically. 

"Ah, no, " she said rising and facing him, "you do not understand; I havea most dangerous rival. To win the Señor I am compelled to use everymeans and strategy within my power. Can you not see?" she continuedpassionately; "she has everything; I have nothing. She is not onlybeautiful, but rich, and Blessed Virgin, what dresses she has, andjewels enough to cover an altar-cloth!"

"My child!" he cried. "You are merely jealous of the Señorita's beauty. For shame, that you should set such store upon worldly things!"

"Padre _mio_, you would not have your little Chiquita unhappy, wouldyou?" she went on without heeding his words, a beseeching tone in hervoice. "Should I fail to win Captain Forest's love, my heart willbreak!" She stood with downcast eyes before him, an expression of painon her face. 

"Ah, yes, my child, I understand, " he answered compassionately, alsorising from the bench. "Your temptation is great. Beware of pride andthe vanities of this world, for he that exalteth himself shall behumbled. 

"Chiquita, " he continued earnestly, "my greatest care in bringing you uphas ever been to keep you the pure and simple being that you were whenyou came to me. Do not forget--God demandeth that the souls which hegave into our keeping should be returned unto him again in the same pureunblemished state that we received them. Therefore, take heed, my child, for although God has endowed you with great beauty of both mind andbody, do not foolishly imagine that, by arraying yourself in thevanities of this world, you can add an atom to the natural beauty He hasbestowed upon you already. Be but pleasing in God's sight and it mustfollow that you will please all men as well. "

"Oh! you really do think me beautiful, Padre?" she cried, a radiant lookon her face. 

"My child, my child, you do not listen to what I have to say!" hegroaned despairingly. 

"Oh, yes, I do, Padre _mio_! But you forget that, when God endowed womanwith a soul, he gave her a heart as well. Willingly we render our soulsunto God, but our hearts belong to men. " The logic of her argument wastoo much for Padre Antonio, and he laughed as she had never seen himlaugh before. 

"Verily, " he said at length, wiping the tears from his eyes andreseating himself on the bench, "the spirit and flesh must ever contendfor the mastery of the soul on earth; it is our fate--the good Lordintended that it should be so. "

"Ah, yes, " she returned. "It's not always the good that seems to pleaseus most in this world. "

"Aye, verily!" he rejoined, relapsing into silence. Again the linnetgave voice to his song, and the cooling breeze sighed among the tamariskplumes that waved about their heads. 

"Do you remember when you first came to me, Chiquita _mia_?" he asked atlast. 

"That was ten years ago, Padre. "

"I then thought, " he went on, "that the good Lord had sent you to me tomake a little angel out of you, but--"

"Ah, Padre _mio_, " she interrupted, "it's too bad! I'm afraid I'm stillthe little devil that I was!" and laughing, she rose from her seat andpassing around to his end of the bench, stood beside him and began topull the leaves from a rose-bush. 

"Padre _mio_, " she said softly, looking down at him with mischievouslights dancing in her eyes, "you don't really regret that I haveremained what I am, do you?"

"Oh, I didn't mean to infer that, my child!" he answered with a note ofreproach in his voice, looking up into her shadowy, downcast face. Shegave a little laugh, and tapping him gently on one shoulder with herfan, said: "Do you know what you are, Padre _mio_?"

"What, my child?" he asked innocently, his face brightening at thequestion. 

"You're the dearest old goose that ever lived!" and bending over him, she kissed him lightly on the crown of his head before he could preventit. 

"Chiquita, my child--you're too impulsive! Have I not repeatedly forbadeyou--" but the sound of her laughter and retreating footsteps on thepathway leading to the house was the only response his words invoked. "_Dios!_" he exclaimed, recovering his breath. "I sometimes think thatGod created man, but woman--the devil! They never listen to anything onehas to tell them!"

Chiquita went quietly to her room, walked straight to her bureau andopening the lower drawer, took out a small pistol which lay concealedbeneath a chemise in one corner. Examining it carefully with thepracticed eye and hand of one who has been accustomed to the use offirearms all her life, she loaded it and then placed it inside herbreast. She knew Don Felipe as no one else did, and thoroughly realizedthe danger that threatened her. From that hour, waking or sleeping, theweapon must never leave her. 

XV

Who was Richard Yankton? Many had asked that question, foremost of whomwas Dick himself; but years of unremitting search had failed to revealhis origin. 

In the spring of 1870 Colonel Yankton, who with his regiment of cavalrywas stationed in Arizona, came one day upon the smoldering remains of animmigrant train--the work of the Apache Indians. 

The scalped and mutilated remains of men, women and children layscattered over the plain where they had fallen. It was a melancholysight; one with which the Colonel had long become familiar during yearsof campaigning against the Red man. His scouts had picked up the trailand just as he was about to start in pursuit of the depredators, hefancied he heard a cry, causing him to pause and listen. 

Presently the cry was repeated, and riding in the direction whence thesound proceeded, he came upon a little child of about two and a halfyears of age sitting on the ground among the sage-brush; the solesurvivor of the disaster. It was a pretty, rosy-cheeked, dark-eyedbaby--a boy. He was frightened at being left alone so long and wascrying bitterly. But when he saw the Colonel looking down at him fromthe back of his horse, the little fellow brightened up. He forgot histroubles, and ceasing to cry, began to laugh and stretch out his tinyhands, and in his incoherent baby way, began to babble. 

"Horsie, horsie, widie!" he cried, in the most beseeching, irresistiblemanner, just as he must have been accustomed to ask the men of the campfor a ride whenever they appeared with a horse. In an instant theColonel was on the ground and had the little fellow in his arms. As noclew to the child's parents or relatives was ever found, the Coloneladopted him, giving him his own name. 

Dick received an excellent schooling up to his sixteenth year andprobably would have entered West Point had not his benefactor suddenlydied. Strange to say, the life of a soldier with which he had becomefamiliar during the years spent at the different posts assigned to theColonel, did not appeal to him. The restraint and routine of the lifeappeared irksome, and a year later the then great undeveloped Westnumbered him among her sons. 

Indeed, as subsequent events proved, it was fortunate that he hadrenounced the life of a soldier. The success which later attended hisefforts in the search for wealth far overshadowed that which he probablywould have attained in the army, especially as his heart was not in thelife. 

Dick was a born miner and prospector, and passed successively throughNew Mexico, Arizona and California in his search for the preciousmetals, finally drifting into old Mexico where he met with his firstimportant success. 

It seemed as though he were directed by an invisible power. For weeksand months at a time he would idle--read and smoke and ride or travel. Then suddenly the spirit would move him, and without saying a word toany one, he would quietly slip away into the mountains by himself inwhichever direction he seemed most impelled to go. Where other menpaused and lingered in the hope of finding gold, he passed on anddiscovered the metal where others least expected to find it. 

Perhaps one of the chief reasons for his success lay in the fact that hedid not assert his own will by planning a systematic search for themetal, but allowed himself to be drawn by that mysterious, attractiveaffinity that existed between him and the precious metals. Dick becameaware of the existence of this strange affinity early in his career andacted upon it. Already at the age of thirty he possessed two of thegreatest gold and silver mines in the world and began to find itdifficult to know what to do with his income. 

The fact that he cared nothing for money beyond the simple comforts oflife which it afforded, was perhaps another inscrutable reason why hewas permitted during the course of the next eight years to add two morerich mines to his possessions. 

At thirty-eight he owned four mines, the possession of any one of whichwould have caused the average man to see visions. For example, Dickwould have regarded Colonel Van Ashton's fortune, handsome though itwas, as mere loose change in his pocket. 

But this modern young Croesus was not unworthy of the fortune thathad been showered upon him so bountifully as the majority of men whoacquire great wealth invariably become. He not only constantly strove toimprove his mind, but maintained a pension-roll and list of publiccharities and beneficiaries that would have done credit to a smallEuropean Principality. In short, he thoroughly realized what theresponsibility of great wealth entailed. 

True to his supersensitive nature and fastidious taste, he alwaysdressed in the height of fashion. This was the only extravagance heallowed himself which, considering his fortune, was reasonable enough. 

Experience had taught him that the majority of men and women were fakirspure and simple, whose chief motives were prompted solely byself-interest; and any suggestion to reform the world he invariablygreeted with laughter. In fact, the world in his opinion, was not worthreforming; yet, in spite of this melancholy truth, he had remained humanto the core, and took a live interest in that world of men which he knewto be nothing more nor less than a great gamble. And therein lay thechief distinction between him and Captain Forest, for they wereotherwise strangely alike. Dick was still more or less interested inmolding the clay--the Captain had done with it. Possibly because thelatter had fallen heir to that which Dick had acquired through effortand, therefore, set less store upon it. 

There were few countries which he had not visited. After making hisfirst rich strike, he attempted to settle in New York, but was unable todo so. To use his own words, "he was only able to sit down, but therewasn't room enough for him to stretch his arms and legs. "

During his travels he had collected numerous works of art; tapestries, paintings, marbles and bronzes by the best modern masters, which heplaced in a beautiful Spanish _hacienda_ especially designed by one ofthe foremost architects of the day. The house occupied the site of anold Spanish _rancho_ situated in a beautiful valley about ten miles fromSanta Fé and was generally conceded to be the most attractive estate inChihuahua, though not the largest and most valuable; Don Felipe Ramirezpossessed that. Both house and garden were a living monument to Dick'snatural refinement and good taste. There were no jarring notes orlavish, tawdry display, the pitfalls into which the parvenue and petitbourgeois invariably fall. This was his only hobby, and just why heindulged it, he himself would have found it difficult to answer, for inreality, he cared but little for it. 

He regarded it chiefly as a precaution against old age. He wouldcontinue to improve and beautify the place until the day arrived when hewould retire from the world to pass the few remaining years of life amidthe quiet and seclusion which the country afforded. And he oftenpictured himself when alone and musing over his cigar, as a lonely, white-haired patriarch, without offspring to perpetuate his name, seatedin the center of his _patio_, smiling benignly upon the frolicsomelittle brown children of his Indian retainers as they laughed anddisported themselves about him. 

"Ah!" cries the world. "Mr. Yankton has a history!" Of course. What manor woman has not, even though they dare not admit it? Had he loved toomuch or too little? There were even some who attributed that exquisitevein of melancholy in his nature to the shadow of a married woman. Washe haunted by the fear that some fair, false one might marry him for hisfortune, not for himself? Or, was his aversion to marriage due solely tothe fact that the right woman had not yet arrived?

These and many other questions had been asked and thoroughly discussedby the matrons and daughters of Santa Fé, especially by the latter, toall of whom he had made love and sent flowers and serenaded in turnuntil, out of sheer desperation, they called alternately upon God andthe devil to keep or punish this gay Lothario who loved all and yetnone, and who gave such exquisite _fiestas_ in his beautiful _hacienda_. 

Now it so chanced that, at the same hour Don Felipe was conductingBlanch and Bessie to the cañon, Dick was returning to Santa Fé onhorseback from his _hacienda_ where he had passed the night. As therewas no particular reason why he should reach the _Posada_ before noon, he decided to indulge his fancy by lingering in the cooling shade of thecañon close to the river's edge, where he might listen to the voices ofthe waters as they went singing by him on their way to the old town andthence to the sea. 

He accordingly dismounted, and after lighting a fresh cigar, stretchedhimself at full length upon the grass which grew on the river's bank, allowing his horse to graze at will. Just behind him rose the abruptwall of the cañon some thirty or forty feet in height which, at thishour of the morning, cast a deep shadow over the spot where he lay andhalfway across the river in front of him. It was just the sort of placefor an Indian or one of Dick's nature to linger in and dream and muse. The tips of the tall grass and reeds which grew close to the water'sedge, swayed gently in the fresh morning breeze. The song of the finchand linnet issued from the thick, low willow copse growing along theriver's banks. 

How peaceful it was, and how sweetly the waters sang! No wonder theIndian prized the peace and beauty of nature above all else. What washis _hacienda_ to this? He was never really happy when the roof of ahouse intervened between himself and the sky. 

Suddenly his attention was attracted by a noise overhead, and glancingupward, he sprang to his feet just in time to avoid a mass of earth andstones that came rolling down over the face of the cliff and fell on thevery spot where he had been lying. The next instant, before he had timeto realize what was happening, a soft, fluffy mass dropped into his armswith an impact that nearly brought him to his knees. For some secondsDick looked hard at the object in his arms in order to assure himselfthat he really was awake and not still dreaming in the grass by the sideof the river. 

There was no doubt about it; the woman had arrived. 

Miss Van Ashton lay quite still in his arms; she had fainted. For thefirst time in his life, a panic seized him. 

"Miss Van Ashton!" he cried excitedly, bending over her. She seemed likenothing, as light as a feather as she lay so still and pale in hisstrong arms. It seemed as though he could have held her thus forever, and he was almost beginning to wish that he might as he watched thepallor of her face slowly give way to its natural pink and white glow, delicate as the lining of a conch-shell. Strange that he had not notedthis peculiarly piquant and attractive face before. 

"Miss Van Ashton!" he cried once more. But again there was no response. He lowered her gently on one knee in order that she might breathe morefreely. As he did so, one of her hands came into sudden contact with hisown. Instinctively his hand closed over it and held it captive; it wasso soft and warm, just like a little bird. His soul was sorely tempted, and sad to relate, he raised it to his lips and held it there, at whichjuncture Bessie Van Ashton slowly opened her eyes. 

With a cry, she was on her feet--flushed and furious. 

"Don't be alarmed, Miss Van Ashton!" he exclaimed, quite unconscious ofthe cause of her sudden fright. "You're not hurt a bit; you didn't touchthe ground. You only fainted. "

"How dare you hold me in your arms?" she cried. 

"I couldn't help it, Miss Van Ashton; you dropped right into them. "

"How dare you kiss me, sir?"

"I couldn't help that either, " stammered Dick, covered with confusionand blushing like a school-boy. 

"Insolence!" cried Bessie with increased vehemence, stamping her smallfoot furiously on the ground. 

"Miss Van Ashton, " stammered Dick again, "I apologize! I--I beg yourpardon--"

"For taking advantage of a helpless woman while in an unconsciousstate!" she interrupted. "A most gentlemanly act!" she addedcontemptuously. Her words cut him like the lash of a whip, causing himto wince, his face turning a deep red. 

"I'm sorry--" he began. 

"You know you're not sorry at all!" she broke in again with unabatedfury. 

"Miss Van Ashton, " he said again, with increasing embarrassment, "whenyou fell into my arms I was so surprised and frightened--"

"Frightened?" She laughed in his face. "A man who single handed held afurious crowd of men at bay as you did--frightened? You mean that youwere so overcome with weakness and the joy at finding a helpless womanin your power you could think of nothing better to do than to kiss her, "she answered with all the sarcasm she could command. 

A twinkle came into Dick's dark eyes as he regarded her for some time insilence. 

"Miss Van Ashton, " he said, "if you only knew it, you are far moredangerous than a tame mob of boys. "

"Pshaw!" she exclaimed, turning her back upon him, and tapping theground nervously with her daintily shod foot. Dick regarded her narrowlyduring the pause that ensued. She seemed taller than he at first hadthought her, and was as slender as a birch. The sun, which by this timehad begun to peep over the top of the cañon wall, cast a golden aureoleabout her head. Again he heard the waters sing and the notes of thebirds issuing from the willow copse. 

"Well! how much longer are you going to stand there? Why don't you saysomething?" she snapped, still keeping her back turned toward him. Herwords inspired him with fresh confidence. He recognized in them a faintglimmer of interest which even her fierce spirit of resentment had notentirely succeeded in overcoming. 

"Miss Van Ashton, ignore me, trample me in the dust if you like, but doyou know, if it had been any other woman than yourself, I should havelaid her quietly down upon the ground and left her to regainconsciousness as best she could!" She wheeled around abruptly, lookinghim straight in the eyes. There was no mistaking the sincerity of hiswords, or the look that accompanied them. And she instinctively feltthat an impulsive, passionate nature like his could not have helpeddoing what he did. 

"I don't believe a word you say, " she said, softening somewhat, a faintsmile lurking about the corners of her mouth. Then, as the ludicrousnessof the situation came over her, she burst into fit after fit of laughteruntil the tears rolled down her cheeks. 

"Oh, dear!" she sighed at length. 

"You do forgive me!" he pleaded, picking up her dainty straw hat whichlay on the ground close by and handing it to her. 

"No, I don't forgive you. I don't think I ever shall, " she answered inthe severest tone she could command. "It was foolish of me to wanderaway from the others, " she continued. "I might have known that somethingwould happen, because something is always happening in this country. It's perfectly marvelous!" Then, after a pause, during which she placedher hat rakishly on one side of her head, she added: "As a punishment, Mr. Yankton, I'll allow you to accompany me back to the _Posada_. " Herwords caused his heart to jump. 

"I don't deserve it, " he answered, assuming an air and tone of humility. 

"I'm glad you realize that, " she returned. "I suppose I'm indebted toyou for saving my life, " she went on. "And I don't want you to think meungrateful. Perhaps it would have been better though--" She broke offabruptly, and then laughed a strange little laugh that puzzled himgreatly. She had at least grown communicative again, and he heaved asigh of relief. He had gotten off so much easier than he expected. 

"One moment, Miss Van Ashton, " he said, as she was about to take thelead. He turned and gave a shrill whistle. His horse which had beenfeeding quietly the while on the grass a short distance from them, raised his head at the sound, and giving a low whinny, came trotting upto them. 

"Won't you ride?" he asked, turning to her. "He's quite gentle. "

"No, " she answered rather curtly, "I prefer to walk. "

"Just as you say, " he answered in a tone of complete submission, takinghis place quietly by her side. 

"No--not that way!" she said. "We'll keep the horse's head between us. "

XVI

There had been no more shooting or attempts at murder. The mail began toarrive from home, and Colonel Van Ashton and Mrs. Forest began tobreathe easier. 

Life at the old _Posada_ had settled down once more to its accustomedcalm and routine. The sun shone benignly and the birds sang daily in thegarden where the guests were wont to pass the greater part of the day. The gay little songsters were a veritable revelation to them--especiallyto the Colonel. How could such gentle creatures go on singing with suchindifference to the future in a land where life was held so cheap andall things so uncertain?

Blanch had turned a deaf ear to the others' entreaties to return home atonce. The more they talked, the firmer she became, and finally, takingmatters into her own hands, settled the question by telegraphing homefor the twenty trunks of clothes she left there on her departure. 

"Can't you see, " she said by way of explanation, "how disastrous itwould be to leave Jack alone in this country with that--"

"Don't mention her!" interrupted Mrs. Forest. 

"I don't see how we can help it, " replied Blanch, "since fate has thrusther unbidden into our lives. We might as well recognize facts first aslast since we are no longer in a position to choose either oursurroundings or the persons with whom we are to associate. There is onlyone way to avert the catastrophe threatening us, and that is--by mymarrying Jack. "

Chiquita's beauty filled Mrs. Forest with a vague and nameless terror. But a glimpse of that dark siren was enough to apprise her of her son'speril, and she unhesitatingly implored Blanch not to let him out of hersight--to go off with him alone as often as possible and flirt with himto any length; a tremendous concession on Mrs. Forest's part--nothingless than a complete surrender, she being one of those proud but insipidmortals whose temperature could be easily gauged by the inclination ofher long, slender, slightly upturned nose which seemed to be foreverpointing toward a better world. For her, it was not enough that one'sappearance and innate refinement marked one as a lady or a gentleman, but it must be proven by a long deduction beginning with some obscureancestor of whom the world has never heard and whose shortcomings havebeen happily buried in the oblivion of time. Could she have had her way, the world would have been long since wrapped in pink tissue paper, tiedwith blue ribbon and labeled safe. How she ever came by her dauntlessson remains a mystery; it certainly was no fault of hers. 

Somebody of a pessimistic turn of mind once remarked that, if the humanrace were suddenly stripped naked, it would be impossible to distinguishthe refined from the vulgar. A truly inspired utterance. For as CaptainForest viewed his family from his plane of vantage, especially afterthe leveling process had set in, they strangely reminded him of a flockof tame geese rioting in a pond. They made a great noise and stir, butconvinced nobody. 

Everybody having reached his level and been shorn of airs andaffectations, it no longer remained a question of what one was, but whatone could do. Consequently, it became daily more and more difficult todistinguish between personalities. It is true there were occasionalflashes suggestive of submerged, latent faculties, but only flashes;stupidity and the commonplace were the dominating notes. 

It was a wonderful study in human nature, and hopeless though thegeneral outlook appeared, the future was not entirely without itspromise. The souls of Blanch and Chiquita shone like radiant twin starsfrom out the gloomy, abysmal depths of the Egyptian darkness that hadsettled over the world. 

Perhaps the most remarkable and amusing feature of it all was that, withthe exception of Blanch, the others still seemed able to take themselvesseriously. They regarded the Captain's new outlook upon life as acomplete reversion to the primitive type, but luckily for them, he hadnot yet lost his sense of compassion. 

Recognizing the deplorable mental state to which his uncle was fastsinking, he kept him supplied with wines and cigars, obtained from hisfriend, Pedro Romero, the gambler. No man can partake of excellent winesand cigars for any length of time without feeling his oats, as thesaying goes; and the Colonel proved no exception to the rule. 

He had just finished a bottle of Burgundy and, as he sat in the gardenwith his sister, sipping his _demitasse_ and inhaling the fragrant aromaof a Havana, he began to feel the return of his nerve. In fact, had hebeen approached on the subject, he would have admitted that he felt likea fighting-cock, in just the proper condition to quarrel with hisnephew. Happily for the Colonel, the subject of his thoughts camesauntering into view at this juncture, and he squared himself, assumingan aggressive attitude preparatory to the encounter which he intended toprecipitate with all possible dispatch. 

The disgusting complacency with which his nephew had taken to wearinglong trousers over his riding-boots in place of those precious balloonbreeches originally designed for lackeys but since adopted as a becomingapparel for a gentleman, affected the Colonel's tender susceptibilitiesto an extent almost inducing nausea. He quite forgot that he had beenguilty of a similar offense during his campaigning in the Civil War, andnaïvely imagined that his nephew had acquired this vulgar habit from hisfriend, Mr. Yankton; a person whose lack of etiquette and easy-goingways were enough to set his teeth on edge. 

The Captain was looking for Blanch whom he had seen entering the gardenwith his mother and the Colonel, but whose return to the house he hadnot noticed, and he, therefore, walked unsuspectingly into the arms ofhis uncle. 

"I wish you would get rid of that infernal horse of yours, " began theColonel by way of a preliminary to the skirmish, while his nephewseated himself unconcernedly in a chair opposite him, tilting itbackwards and leisurely crossing his legs. "He positively threatened todevour me bodily as I passed the corral this morning. "

"I suppose it's because he has not yet learned that you are my uncle, "replied the Captain, suppressing a smile. "It's strange what dislikes hetakes to certain persons when one considers that he's as gentle as akitten when children are around; but I'll try to teach him todistinguish members of the family in the future. "

"Look here, Jack! I've had enough of this beating about the bush. It'stime we came to an understanding. "

"There's nothing to prevent it that I can see, " answered the Captainwith maddening coolness. "I was merely apologizing for an ill-manneredhorse. "

"Damn your horse, sir!" cried the Colonel with increasing choler. 

"Any time you are ready, dear Uncle, " replied the Captain calmly, takinga cigarette from his case and lighting it. The Colonel ground his teethin silence. His first encounter with his nephew could hardly be calledsatisfactory and he did not wish a repetition of it. He had come toargue his nephew out of his folly through sheer force of logic and itbehooved him to remain as calm as possible during the interview, for hisnephew had a most surprising way of answering back and turning theargument against one. 

"Tell me, " he began, "what possible attraction this country can have foryou?"

"It would be quite as impossible to explain that satisfactorily to youas to make my reasons clear for being here at all. But since you againask me for those reasons, I can only answer as I did before. I haveexhausted that felicitous state called civilization. I want to be free. "

"Rot!" cried the Colonel, literally snorting and bounding into the air. "You've no right to be free! Only savages and criminals want to be free!If that's all you have to say--" but his voice choked and he resumed hisseat in silence. 

"I've never heard anything quite so silly!" exclaimed Mrs. Forest who upto this point had maintained a discreet silence. 

"It's true nevertheless, " continued the Captain composedly, blowing aring of blue smoke into the air. "Civilization, you know, is practicallythe same the world over. I have seen and heard everything, readeverything, and met everybody that's worth meeting, and I'm tired ofseeing and hearing them over and over again, year in and year out, withalways the dead certainty of their return to look forward to. Our liveshave become too stilted, too artificial--we lack poise, we live ingrooves. Everything is overdone--there is nothing left for us toenjoy--our finer sensibilities have become dulled--the simplicity andrefinements of life have been swallowed up by luxury, tawdry display andprudism. "

"Bosh!" cried the Colonel. 

"Everybody, " the Captain went on, "knows exactly what his neighborthinks and is going to say, and should anybody by any chance begin tothink differently and seriously on life, society instantly brands thatperson as stupid, if not a little queer. We have lost our independence. "

"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Forest. 

"Granted for the sake of argument, " broke in the Colonel, flipping theash from off his cigar. "But what about art, science and literature, thereal things which stand for civilization?"

"Oh! as to them, they are all right in themselves. It is fortunate thatman has an outlet through these manifold channels of expression. 

"They are the best part of our lives so far as they go, but all art andscience and no nature, and what becomes of man? Have they made the worldhappy, and is there any immediate prospect of their ever doing so? Didthe Greeks, who attained the supreme heights in art, find happiness intheir art? Their history is the record of one long struggle; and so itwas with the renaissance of the Middle Ages, and so it is with us; oursciences and arts can never change the complicated conditions in whichwe live. They have never developed the sympathy and brotherly love whichshould exist between man and man; we are still barbarians. 

"The most miserable wretches that ever lived were the very ones thatpassed their lives creating and theorizing. They all forgot and arestill forgetting like the rest of the world to-day that, these things, no matter how great, amuse and interest for a time only; that once theyare absorbed, their original charm and novelty are gone forever. Theybecome worn and threadbare like all of man's inventions, and humanity isever left searching for the great panacea of life. 

"The God-inspired sing and talk of the great life, but they do not liveit themselves, and that is why they never really succeed in deliveringtheir messages. And they may continue to write books and compose music, to paint pictures and build temples and hew statues so long as thisplanet is habitable, but these things are merely an imitation of thereality--a reflection of the ideal in man. The delivered man must standabove his art and science. He must recognize that he himself is thewell-spring, the source of his inspiration and is greater than hisemotional expressions. The true message can never be delivered to theworld until the life for which these things stand is actually lived out, becomes a part of man's daily life. "

"And you intend to deliver that message, I suppose?" observed theColonel sarcastically, smiling compassionately and twirling the end ofhis mustache. 

"In my own humble way, yes, but I ask no man to follow me!" A chorus oflaughter, in which were mingled the voices of Blanch and Bessie who hadjust joined the group, greeted this confession. 

"Did you ever hear the like of the conceit?" exclaimed Mrs. Forest asthe laughter subsided. 

"Excuse my frankness, Jack, but you're an ass, " said the Colonel tartly. 

"You set an example to the world? Why, you're as spoiled as the rest ofus!" cried Bessie. 

"Quite true, Cousin, but with this difference, I realize that fact andthe rest of you do not. "

"What a charming pedestal you have placed yourself upon, Jack, " saidBlanch, seating herself beside Mrs. Forest. 

"Perhaps, " returned the Captain dryly, "but of one thing I am certain. Few people are better prepared to speak on this matter than I am. "

"What an interesting lot we women must be in your eyes, " broke inBessie, digressing from the subject. Captain Forest smiled. 

"Don't misunderstand me, " he went on. "You are trumps, every one of you, if you only knew it, but unfortunately you do not. You are the mostattractive women in the world, but you are spoiled--utterly spoiled. Youare the well-groomed, lovely curled and pampered darlings of society, but alas! utterly superficial, just like those brilliant women of thegreat French revolutionary period. "

"I admire your frankness, Jack; but what do you really intend doing?What sort of a life do you intend to lead?" asked Blanch. 

"Cease chasing will-o'-the-wisps about in the vain pursuit of happiness, and live as man was intended to live by substituting nature's realitiesfor man's creations; those things which we prize most--which please fora time, but which in the end leave us as empty handed as the day wefirst started in quest of the _golden fleece_. Live as close as possibleto nature; cultivate the soil, watch the fruit and the flowers and thegrain grow, and roam throughout the length and breadth of the land whenthe longing seizes me. "

"What!" cried the Colonel, unable to contain himself any longer. "Isthis the inane, prosaic existence for which you have given up one of themost brilliant careers the world had to offer a man? It's bad enough tohave wrecked that, but for one possessing the wealth you do to waste hislife after such fashion; it's simply disgusting! Think of what you mightdo in the financial world!"

"That's just the sort of answer one might expect from you, " replied theCaptain, taking a fresh pull at his cigarette. "You talk like astockbroker. That phase of labor brings no real happiness to any one. Besides, it would be absurd for one possessing the money I do to spendhis days earning more. Of course as things are constituted to-day, it isdifficult to get along without money, but in reality I don't consider ithas anything to do with happiness. Lasting pleasure and peace can onlybe found in the verities of nature; her beauties and realities are theonly satisfying and enduring things. 

"What can you who pass your days amid the noise and dirt of cities, breathing their tainted atmosphere, and your intellects nourished uponartificialities and the creations of men's minds, know of nature? Howmany of you have ever gazed long enough at the stars to appreciate theirbeauty and mystery, or listened to the sound of the wind and tried toguess its meaning?"

"Bah! you are as sentimental as a school-girl!" ejaculated the Colonel. "You talk like one who has just taken a short course in Thoreau orRousseau. "

The Captain only laughed in return. He rose from his seat and beganstriding up and down before them with his hands clasped behind his backand his gaze fixed on the ground. 

"Who are you, " he continued passionately, stopping abruptly before them, "to assume that others should live according to your lackadaisical, sensuous sentimentality--your divan, boudoir conceptions of life?Thoreau and Rousseau and Emerson and Ruskin were great men, but had theytalked less and actually lived out the life they preached, the worldmight possibly have been aroused to a consciousness of something higherby this time; but they were too small for the task. It requires a mancast in a bigger mold to perform the work--it is only in men like methat the future hope of the race lies. I must _live_ the life theypreached. Do you understand? Why, I could crush you and the world yourepresent in the hollow of my hand! You seek happiness in the evanescentwine and laughter of the illusive, superficial life. I, too, sought itthere, but like you, I did not find it. "

His words sank deep into the soul of Blanch. She admired his strengthand yet hated him for it. Why, she asked herself again, as she did onthe day he first imparted his new views of life to her, was she notmoved? Why was she still unable to thrill at the sound of his words?

She could not understand it. There seemed to be something lacking eitherin him or in her. 

"What assurance have you, " she asked, "that you will find happiness inthis new life which you propose to lead?"

"The consciousness which tells me I exist, voices the fulfillment ofthat promise. There can be no doubt of it. The traditions that have comedown to us from the past from all nations that once men were free, is nomyth. The true poetry of life, I repeat, is not found in the epics menhave created, but in the sources that inspired them. In the glories ofthe earth and the air, in the stars and mountains and forests and fieldsand streams, in man, in the birds and animals, in the turning of thesoil with the plow and the spade, and in the growing corn. These are thethings which, before all else, add to the spiritual growth of man andinspire him to pray and hope, to sing and to love, and draw him close tothe invisible world because they are a part of the life of man, notimitations of life. The instant man realizes this he will be free. 

"I know you cannot understand this, " he continued with a shade ofimpatience in his voice, "for what can a lot of slaves like you, thebrick and mortar type of man, know of freedom, all that is best andnoble in life? You are so bound to the world of your own creating thatit has become as meaningless as a fancy to you. Your souls run on thedead level; the great song of life sweeps by you unheeded, and is goneforever. "

XVII

Señora Fernandez erred in her judgment of Don Felipe, which was butnatural. She still regarded him as the impetuous, hot-headed youth offormer days, not what he really was--the mature man, sobered by years ofexperience and suffering which had taught him the value of self-control. 

He understood the nature, knew as never before the mettle of the womanwith whom he had to deal, and on no account would he foolishlyprecipitate a quarrel with the Captain. He would bide his time andstrike only when the moment seemed propitious. The vague rumors whichwere current concerning Chiquita must have some foundation, else why thecontinual gossip on every tongue? He would investigate the matter forhimself, in his own time and way; meanwhile he would reinstate himselfin the good graces of the community by making himself as agreeable andpopular as possible, a thing not difficult for one of his wealth andaccomplishments. 

He had doffed his Mexican costume for the more prosaic attire of themodern man which became him equally well and which was more to hisliking. To the cosmopolitan that he had become, the place and the peoplehad shrunk terribly during his absence, and there seemed to be littleleft in common between him and them. The presence of the Americans wasa godsend to him, while he in turn was like a fresh breeze from theouter world to them. 

He instinctively recognized a confederate in Blanch. They possessed acommon interest and spent much time together. Strange that the same fatewhich had overtaken him was now threatening her! Those who deny a fixeddestiny and can therefore afford to ignore the laughter of the gods, mayanswer with some assurance that the lives of most people, especially themarked ones, are tragic--perhaps. But why had Colonel Van Ashton, thebon-vivant and habitué of clubs, the adored of pretty young women andconfidant of duennas, taken the one road which led to the wildernesswhen it is well known that all roads lead to Rome, especially when theColonel had about as much interest in his present surroundings as apolar bear might reasonably expect to find on the equator? Possibly itwas for the same reason that the Colonel also watched with increasingalarm the sudden and growing interest which his daughter began to takein the man he detested most on earth. 

Reveal the cause, the hidden well-spring of destiny, and the effect maybe predicted with comparative accuracy. Can the lamb lie down with thelion? Were there ever substantial grounds for the assertion, or was itonly metaphor--mere poetical allusion? The world has been on the _quivive_ for the fulfillment of prophecy ever since the expulsion of ourcommon ancestry from Eden. The actual motives and reasons which underliethe workings of destiny are usually about as clear as those which bereftSamson of his locks or left the lone figure of Marius seated amid theruins of Carthage. And yet, even in the face of time-worn contradictionsapparent to the most superficial and credulously minded, pretty, distracting Bessie Van Ashton had begun to cast her eyes in thedirection of Dick Yankton, the handsome, open-handed, devil-may-care sonof nature who regarded the world of fashion to which she belonged withabout as much concern as he did the dust on his boots. 

Possibly _ennui_ prompted this willful bit of womanhood to make aplaything of that picturesque child of nature, just as loneliness causedhim to open his eyes to the existence of that, which in the logical andordinary course of events, he would have entirely overlooked. But sincelife is made up almost entirely of contraries, it is not so much withreasons that we have to deal as with facts--things as they are. Clothehuman nature in whatever garb you like, at heart it remains the same. Time and place and condition make little difference; the real man withinis sure to assert himself at some time or other by throwing off thedisguise. 

Was Bessie, the spoilt, pampered child of fashion with her soft, whitebody, any more fit for a life lived close to nature than Blanch who wasnaturally strong, sinuous and supple, though so softened by luxury andthe overrefinements of civilization? To all appearances, no. And yet, the very things which seemed to pass by Blanch unheeded, beganimperceptibly to impress themselves upon Bessie. Possibly because Blanchwas so strong and individualized that, having once given herself upwholly to the present life, she was enslaved irrevocably by it--heldfast by it with a power that had grown with her strength day by day--sothat while a weaker woman might slip through the meshes and escape, shewas held irresistibly bound through her own force and strength ofcharacter. 

The spell and magic of the land seemed to hold like an unseen hand allthings as in the grip of a vice, and were no less potent in the presentthan they were in the past. The plaintive notes of the wood-dove found aresponse within Bessie's soul. The winds seemed laden with new voicesand unconsciously interrupted the train of her thoughts and caused herto pause and listen and wonder. The wild, forbidding landscape fromwhich her stronger companion involuntarily shrank, for some unknownreason attracted her. The broad expanse of heaven and earth, the farhorizon, the hazy, mysterious silhouetted peaks of distant mountainsaroused vague longings within her--emotions which she did not understandand concerning which she failed in her attempts to analyze. 

Had she been at home, she would have regarded these new sensations assentimental enthusiasm and laughed at them, denying them a permanentplace in her nature. But here, it was different. They seemed to have ahold upon one and were as irresistible as those vague longings that comewith the awakening of spring. There was music everywhere in the worldabout her. Flowers of the imagination sprang from the desert on everyhand. Voices and hands called and beckoned to her from out the unseen. The quickening and awakening within her gave promise of a new life, andher feet became light as sunbeams. The fact of being alive and theincreasing desire to live filled her with a new joy and vigor thatdarted through her soul like tongues of flame, causing her blood tosurge and tingle as never before since the days of childhood. 

A genuine interest in the new life and the lives of those about her, took the place of the apathy and indifference with which she regardedthe sated pleasures of that jaded world from which she had departed sorecently. She had come to be bored--fully resigned for Blanch's sake toendure the _ennui_ of mere vegetation until the prodigal Jack had beensafely gathered within the fold once more. After the rude shock of firstimpressions had passed and she had found time to pause and breathe, shebegan to cast her eyes about her for something more real and tangiblethan the memories of the world she had left behind her, but had failedto find anything of interest until the occurrence of that unfortunateepisode with Dick. 

His arms still clung to her in spite of the persistent efforts she madeto shake them off. And stranger still, no amount of scrubbing seemed toremove the sting of those burning kisses he had impressed upon her hand. That unpardonable piece of impudence was unprecedented. Men had madelove to her, adored her, and completely lost their heads over her; andone man in particular, as she well knew, was scouring the ends of theearth in an effort to obtain news of her present whereabouts. Much toher astonishment, however, and contrary to her preconceived notionsconcerning men, she found that she had suddenly lost interest in thisparticular man for another. 

But why? What was the cause of this newly awakened interest in Dick? Wasit because he was so different from the men she had known, or was itthat strong touch of the feminine in him which certain sensitivemasculine natures possess; that rare, distinguishing characteristicwhich is so attractive to men and women alike? Did any real affinityexist between them? How could it, considering the different conditionsand environment in which they had been reared and the width of the gulfthat divided them? What then was the cause of this attraction which inspite of her efforts to check it, was beginning to become a source ofvexation to a woman of the world who had always prided herself on beingable to keep herself well in hand?

That it might be love, or even the dawning of love, she refused toadmit. She shuddered at the mere thought of such a catastrophe. Thething, however, was becoming annoying. Like any thought which we holdtoo long in our minds, it was bound to absorb all others in time, andshe resolved to make an end of it. She would play with him. One couldnot maintain a serious interest in that which one treated as ajest--held up to ridicule. She would play with him like an expert anglerplays with a fish, and when landed, would walk over himrough-shod--trample him back into the dust of that coarser clay fromwhich he sprang. 

Ah, yes, the country was not so dull after all! It would be a royallark; a holiday long to be remembered. They were so far from the greatworld that, when it was all over, not even the slightest rumor orbreath of scandal would remain to remind her of the flirtation uponwhich she had decided to embark. 

With these thoughts running through her mind, the fascinating, violet-eyed daughter of Colonel Van Ashton lightly dipped the tips ofher dainty fingers into a rouge-pot, glanced into the mirror and drewthem across her lips, and then deliberately attired herself in one ofher smartest gowns preparatory to flinging the first bones ofcondescension to the rustic Yankton; the preliminaries of a series ofexpectations and hopes deferred that were intended to reduce him to astate of submission suitable to receive the final kick which was toleave Mr. Yankton a wiser but a sadder man. 

XVIII

Blanch stood before a long mirror that adorned one of the walls of herroom, trying the effect of a new tea-gown. 

The mirror was an ancient piece of furniture consisting of a faded giltframe and six separate rows of large, unevenly fitting squares of glass;the style that was in vogue two centuries ago. As she regarded herselfin it, she saw herself reflected in sections, probably with much thesame effect as Marie Antoinette saw her reflection at Versailles. 

"Coronada must have brought this mirror with him on his firstexpedition, " she remarked to Bessie who lounged on the sofa on theopposite side of the room amid a heap of florid cushions. "I feel asthough I had a personal grudge against that man, " she continued, vainlyendeavoring to catch an unbroken outline of herself in the glass. 

"It's stunning, Blanch!" broke in Bessie from the sofa. "What is it--aWorth?"

"No--a Doucet. Isn't it absurd that I should array myself in thesegorgeous gowns to compete with that Indian in her few flimsy calicoesand silks? The contrast is out of all proportion. It's the sublime andthe ridiculous. And yet she looks well in anything! Dress her in ragsand she is picturesque; robe her in silks and she is fascinating. "

"That's just what I can't understand, " said Bessie. "We couldn't wearher clothes, but she can wear ours. Why is it?"

"It's quite simple. We have been handicapped from the start because wehave been forced to compete with them on their own ground. They areperfectly natural; they have nothing and aspire to nothing, while we arewholly artificial--have everything and aspire to more. "

"Why, to hear you, one would think that Jack was talking!" exclaimedBessie in genuine surprise. 

"Oh! I don't pretend to agree with his views, but as regards us, he'sabout right. I was never able to see ourselves as some others see usuntil we came here. And I have come to the conclusion that our views oflife are about as distorted as the cracked reflection of myself in themirror yonder. We have unconsciously lived a life antagonistic to natureand consequently find ourselves ridiculous in our simplest endeavors tobe natural. Of course, " she added, "they would appear the same if thingswere reversed and we had them on our ground. 

"With us, " she went on, "marriage is more a game of intrigue than love;here it is purely one of sentiment. Aside from my intrinsic value, whatweapon have I to employ against this Indian woman? The things whichcount for so much with us, fall flat here. 

"Why, I'm not even in a position to make Jack jealous! If I were athome, I would have a dozen men at my feet and as many more as I wishedto play off against him, not to mention the thousand opportunities forneglect. In fact, all the weapons which we women are so fond ofemploying against men. Whereas, here I am at the feet of my LordJack--his indifference is insufferable! Oh! I'll pay him back for this!"she cried, pale with anger. 

"Men are brutes--all of them!" remarked Bessie laconically, rising to asitting posture on the sofa. 

"I hate him--hate him!" continued Blanch in a fresh paroxysm of passion. "To think that he of all men should have been the one chosen to show memyself--the only one of us who was strong enough to break away! Why wasI not able to hold him? Why am I not able to come to him now? There issomething wrong somewhere. We seem to have lost our grip on things. Ican't understand it!" Just then the old, gilt French clock on the whitemarble mantelpiece slowly chimed the hour of five. The sound of theclock caused Blanch to pause. "Five o'clock, " she said, calming herself. "Don Felipe will be waiting for us in the garden. "

"That's so, " answered Bessie, rising from the sofa and crossing the roomto the window which looked out over the _patio_ into the garden. "Therehe is now, pacing back and forth beneath the trees. What a restless manhe is!"

"After the first cup, you might disappear, Bess, " said Blanch. "I wantto try to find out if he still cares for that Indian?"

"That was the most romantic thing I ever heard!" exclaimed Bessie. 

"I wonder he ever returned, " answered Blanch, opening the door andleading the way across the _patio_ in the direction of the garden. Thetinkle of a guitar attracted their attention to a group of _peons_ andwomen squatted on their heels on one side of the court, in the shade ofthe arcades, smoking and chatting. A little beyond them, in the shadowof the doorway, stood the major-domo, Juan Ramon and the prettyhousekeeper, Rosita. 

"_Dios!_ but she is _magnifico_--the tall one!" whispered Juan to Rositaas the girls passed them, nodding and smiling in response to Juan's deepsalutation and Rosita's courtesy. 

"And the little one, " said Rosita in turn. "Is she not like a half-blownpink rose?"

"Aye! 'tis a feast for the eyes to look at them!" answered Juan. "Therehas not been so much life in the place since the old days when theMaster was alive. "

"If Don Felipe doesn't marry one of them he's a fool, " added Rosita. 

"That's just what I have been saying to myself, " returned Juan. 

"What else can he be doing here if he doesn't intend to take one of themback to his _hacienda_ with him?" continued Rosita. "I've noticed thathe and the tall one spend much time together. "

"Aye!" ejaculated Juan. "It must be lonely at the old _rancho_ without awoman to keep him company. "

"The tall Señorita would be just the one for the place!" exclaimedRosita enthusiastically. 

"Rosita _mia_, " began Juan confidentially after a short silence, duringwhich his gaze rested pensively on the retreating figures of the girls, "I've just been thinking that there is no happiness for a man, stillless for a woman, in a single life. What say you, Rosita _mia_, " he wenton, patting her familiarly on the cheek. 

"Juan Ramon, " interrupted Rosita with an angry flush, "if you don't wantto get your face slapped, you had better behave like a _Caballero_!"

"_Caramba!_ what a little spitfire!" returned Juan, pulling the end ofhis thin mustache, yet not in the least disconcerted by her show oftemper. "But supposing, my pearl of a housekeeper, that I bought a neatlittle _rancheria_--do you know of any one who might care to look afterit?"

"Bah! First pay your gambling debts, Juan Ramon. There will then be timeenough to look for some one who will allow herself to be beaten onfeast-days when you have drunk more _pulque_ than is good for you. But_Dios!_ why am I wasting words with you? The Señoritas will begin towonder what has become of their chocolate and _tortillas_ if I don'thurry. "

"Ungrateful woman, " responded Juan, assuming an injured tone. "Would youleave me without a kiss?"

"Holy Mother! what has come over you, Juan Ramon--has the sunshine goneto your head? A kiss, indeed!" and she tossed her head. "Go toPetronita, the cook! She is old; doubtless she will give you a plenty!"and laughing, she hurried into the dining-room in search of a tray withwhich to serve the ladies. The mere mention of the ancient, witheredPetronita, with the parchment-like face, caused Juan's mouth to puckeras though he had bitten into an unripe persimmon. 

"_Diablos!_ if the luck would only change!" he muttered. "Rosita wouldbe the very one--" The sound of light footsteps and the tinkle of spurscaused Juan to turn. 

"Ah! _buenas dias_, Señorita!" he exclaimed, lifting his hat and bowingbefore Chiquita, who had entered the _patio_ from the opposite side ofthe house. Her riding-habit, her boots and gloves and gray felt hatbeneath which were twisted her thick braids of hair, were covered withthin white particles of dust. 

"Where is your mistress, Doña Fernandez, Juan?" she asked. 

"I will call her, Señorita, " answered Juan, replacing his hat on hishead and starting for the hallway. 

"Never mind, Juan, " called Chiquita, catching sight of Blanch and Bessiein the distance. "I will first speak with the Señoritas, " and she turnedtoward the garden. 

Juan's beady black eyes followed her tall figure as she moved toward thegirls. Ever since the arrival of the Americans there had been muchdiscussion in the household as to which was the more beautiful, Blanchor Chiquita. The Señora's dislike for the latter was well known, but inspite of this prejudice, opinion was pretty evenly divided concerningthe merits of the two. It was a vexing question, and the opportunity ofcomparing the two women as they met in the garden was too tempting tobe missed. So, with one end of his _zerape_ slung carelessly over hisshoulder, Juan strolled casually past the little group of women in thedirection of the corrals, where he could observe them at his leisurefrom the recesses of the garden without attracting attention. 

Notwithstanding the fact that the dark woman was at a disadvantage inher dust-covered riding-habit, he could not for the life of him tellwhich was the more beautiful of the two as he passed behind a thicket oflilac bushes, and seated himself on a rustic bench and began rolling a_cigarillo_ between his long slim fingers. 

Juan was a born gambler, and like all of his tribe, was usually in wantof money. To-day he needed it more than ever, for that very morning hismistress had taunted him and threatened to leave him if he did not payfor the new dresses she had recently purchased, and for which she wasnow being dunned by her creditors. Never had he had such a run of badluck. During the great week of the _Fiesta_ he had tried everything fromroulette to monte, but fortune's wheel had turned steadily against him. It was truly the devil's own luck and no mistake. If only the luck wouldturn, he would quit the game of chance forever--cast off the ungratefulDolores, and. .. . He drew a much-worn pack of cards from his breastpocket and began cutting them with a dexterity acquired through longyears of practice. 

Like all of his race, and the majority of mankind for that matter, hewas intensely superstitious. Three times in succession he cut and dealtthe cards, and three times the ace of hearts, the luckiest card in thepack, turned face upwards on the bench. 

"_Santa Maria!_ 'tis a miracle--the luck has changed at last!" hemuttered excitedly, as with dilated eyes and trembling hands he gatheredup the cards and replaced them carefully in his pocket. His dream of the_hacienda_ and the fair Rosita might yet come true. But how? The cardswere too fickle to trust for long. Just then the rich, deep voice ofChiquita fell upon his ears. Without knowing why, yet intuitively heseemed to connect her with the turn in his fortune--and it set himthinking. 

Ever since the _Fiesta_, curiosity had prompted him to learn somethingconcerning Chiquita's motive for dancing; and whenever the opportunitypresented itself, he had shadowed her. His patience was soon rewarded bylearning that she made frequent visits to the Indian _pueblo_, Onava, often riding there in the late evening under cover of the dusk. On oneoccasion he saw an Indian ride forth from the village and meet her onthe plain where she awaited him. They engaged in long and earnestconversation, at the end of which he fancied he saw Chiquita draw nearerto her companion and hand him something, and then the darkness shut themfrom view. He did not dare follow her farther or enter the village, forfear of attracting suspicion to himself; but surely this was a clew tosomething, to the mystery, perhaps. 

At this juncture, Juan rolled a fresh _cigarillo_ as he listened to thevoices of the women, his eyes resting on Captain Forest's horse in thecorral beyond the garden. The animal fascinated him; never had he laideyes on such a superb creature. Each day he visited the corral for alook at him, and each time the Chestnut would rush at him with ears laidflat on his neck and mouth wide open, displaying his formidable teeth. 

"_Caramba!_ what an animal to stock a _rancho_ with, if only--" Juansighed, and for some moments roundly cursed the past run of cards. Theafternoon sun was pleasantly warm, and the shade sleep inviting. Hethrew the burnt end of his _cigarillo_ on the ground, and, drawing uphis feet, stretched himself at full length on the bench--the upper halfof his fox-like face appearing just above the edge of his _zerape_. 

_Dios!_ was it not better to sleep and even dream bad dreams, thanwaking, meditate upon the misfortunes of life?

XIX

When Chiquita entered the garden, she had just returned from an IndianMission School for girls, some ten miles distant from Santa Fé, whithershe rode once a week to instruct its pupils in the art of blanket andbasket weaving; an art which she had practiced from her earliest days. 

Her affair with Don Felipe was bad enough, and though she had beengenerally condemned for it, her woman's prerogative was recognizednevertheless. But for a lady, and ward of a priest, to dance in publicand for money, was a thing unheard of; and gossip was fast giving her anunenviable reputation. This latest escapade, as it was generally termed, had nearly cost her her position in the school. When, however, it wastaken into consideration that her services were gratuitous and that itwould be impossible to replace her by any one else half as competent, the directors of the institution discreetly demurred, deciding that itwould be better to humor the caprices of this fair barbarian who ruledsupreme in her department. 

The greeting which took place between her and Blanch was cordial enoughto all outward appearances. Considering the tension and delicacy of thesituation, the volcanic nature of the two and the intense longing ofeach to fly at the other and settle their differences then and there, the self-control of the two was commendable in the extreme. 

"Do you ride much, Señorita?" asked Blanch, eyeing critically herriding-skirt and wondering how it was that such an antiquated cut couldsit her so well. 

"I don't think I could live without a horse, " replied Chiquita. "I oftenthink I must have been born on one; at least, I can't remember the daywhen I first learned to ride. It was good to get back here after my sixyears at school for the sake of riding, if for nothing else. I don'tbelieve either of you know what the real joys of riding are, " she wenton, pulling the glove from her right hand and sipping the chocolatewhich Bessie had handed her. 

"Not until one has passed weeks and months in the saddle at a time doesone thoroughly realize what riding means, or appreciate the worth andcompanionship of a horse. " She paused, and a look of longing came intoher large, lustrous eyes, as the memory of her early life came back toher, when she, with her people, roamed free through the land. 

"_Dios!_ but I have been unhappy ever since you came, Señorita, " sheresumed, changing the subject abruptly and addressing Blanch. "Theknowledge that you are constantly near him almost drives me mad attimes. And your dresses--they haunt me in my dreams! I never beforeimagined that dress was of so much importance in this world. " She was sooutspoken and withal so natural, that both Blanch and Bessie burst intoa peal of good-natured laughter in which Chiquita joined. 

"We women, " she continued, taking another sip of chocolate, "havenothing to fall back upon except our old antiquated Spanishcostumes--you can imagine what we would look like in the modern clotheswe procured here. I have never been placed in such a ridiculous positionbefore, and if I only knew that you were as miserable as I am, I think Imight begin to enjoy the humor of the situation. " Again all threelaughed. 

"Ah, love, what a thing is love!" she sighed, placing her slender glovedhand over her heart. "It makes one as miserable as it does happy. " Thensuddenly turning to Blanch, she asked: "Have you always dressed likethat?"

"I have always tried to live up to a certain standard, " replied Blanch. 

"And how long have you known him?"

"Oh! as long as I can remember--twenty years, perhaps. "

"Twenty years, and always looked like that and not married to him? SweetMother of God!" she cried in the quaintest tone imaginable, sinking backin her chair. "Had I known him as many weeks I had either married him orkilled myself!"

"Nobody takes love so seriously as that!" laughed Blanch. 

"Ah! you have never loved him!" she said, after a short silence. 

"Why do you suppose I am here?" returned Blanch. 

"Then how could you have lived near him all these years without marryinghim?"

"It was a mistake, I admit, " answered Blanch good-humoredly. "But youmust understand that we don't regard love in quite the same light as youdo. We don't make a great fuss about it and talk of killing ourselves, and that sort of thing. We get married when we find it convenient. "

"Ah, yes, I know, " answered Chiquita, "but I'm sure you can never be asmuch to him as I can. What have you endured, what have you suffered tomake you feel and realize the full significance of love?"

"Do you imagine, " asked Blanch in surprise, "that there is any less ofthe woman in me because I have been spared the things which you perhapshave been forced to endure, or that one must first suffer before one iscapable of loving?"

"No, I don't think that, for love is a thing like sleep, it comes uponus unawares. But it seems to me I am better fitted for him than you are;that my love, tempered by my life's experience, must be fuller anddeeper and richer than that which you have to offer him. What, " shecontinued, "do you really know of life? Not the social side of it, ofwhich your life has been so full, but life as it really is? Were youborn under the open heavens? Have you slept on the hard, cold ground, exposed to the weather, or nearly perished of hunger and thirst? Couldyou feed and clothe yourself from the naked earth without the assistanceof others? Have you seen men, women and children starve, or ruthlesslystruck down by your side, or nursed them through some terrible scourgelike the smallpox?

"All your life you have been protected and cared for, while all my lifeI have been obliged to face the reality of things, forced to work, toprocure the simple necessities of life. I have carried wood and water, cooked, and fed and clothed myself and others with the materialsprovided by my own hands. And yet, when I look back upon my life, Iwould not surrender one hour of the true happiness the day's workbrought with it could I thereby have escaped the suffering andbitterness it often entailed. Barren though my life may appear from yourpoint of view, I know it to be infinitely rich in comparison to yours, for, as I have said, you have never known what life really means--neverexperienced its hardships, never beheld the bright face of danger, nortasted the joys of the great free life in the open, the simple dailylife devoid of the cares of civilized men, without which the life of aman can never be complete, be he what he may. 

"'Where the foot rests, that is home, ' is a saying among my people; atruth, that so far as my experience goes, has never been gainsaid. "

In spite of themselves and the fact that they could not whollycomprehend the weight and significance of her words, they werefascinated by her discourse, emphasized and illustrated as it was by thedramatic intensity of her gestures and expression. 

"Señorita, " said Blanch at last, breaking the silence that ensued, "Ibelieve you are still at heart the savage, or better, the nomad you werewhen you lived in the wilderness. "

"When I lived in the Garden of Eden, in God's world, not man's, is whatyou mean, " she replied. 

"Do you never have a desire to return to it?" asked Bessie. 

"The old days can never be effaced, " answered Chiquita. "My thoughtscontinually revert to them when, as a little girl, I used to set meatand drink before my father and his guests as they sat in a circle aboutthe fire in the center of his lodge or in our house and smoked the longred clay pipes, or, after the crops were harvested, roamed through theland during the hunting season; sometimes afoot, at other times incanoes or on horseback. There are times when such an insatiable longingfor the old life seizes me that I become almost unmanageable. I long tothrow myself down in the open--lie close in the embrace of Mother Earth, and breathe the smoke of the camp-fire. My unrest is like that of thebirds when the spell of the spring and the autumn comes upon them andthe migratory instinct seizes them, or like that of the great herds ofreindeer in the North which travel each year to the sea to drink of itssalty waters, and which, if prevented, die. "

"Do you know, " said Bessie to Blanch a little later, when they werealone in their room, "she's fascinating when she talks like that. "

"Ah! that's just where the danger lies, " answered Blanch. "Think of whatmight happen if she starts talking like that to Jack--it's just whathe's waiting to hear. "

XX

Juan must have fallen asleep. As he lay stretched upon the bench, he wasawakened suddenly by the sound of vehement, passionate words. 

Peering cautiously through the bushes, he beheld Chiquita and Don Felipestanding facing one another in the same spot where the three women hadbeen but a short time before. He was not near enough to overhear theconversation, but judging from the vehemence of their gestures andhigh-pitched voices, he rightly conjectured that their meeting wasanything but an amicable one. 

On seeing Chiquita with Blanch and Bessie, Don Felipe had discreetlyrefrained from joining them as he had promised; he would make hisapologies to them in the evening. The opportunity for which he had beenwaiting since his return had come--he must see Chiquita alone. So hewithdrew to a far corner of the garden, where he could observe the womenwithout being seen, and when Blanch and Bessie returned to the house, heintercepted her. Although she had hourly expected to meet him ever sinceshe had been apprised of his return, his appearance was so sudden shewas taken unawares. She had reseated herself after Blanch and Bessieleft and sat leaning with one elbow on the table and her head resting inher hand, lost in thought. She did not hear his approach from behind, but at the first sound of his voice she started to her feet, turninglike a flash and facing him. Her movement was so sudden and unexpectedthat he too was taken aback. 

"You evidently did not expect to see me this afternoon, " he began withsome hesitancy. 

"I did not, " she replied coldly. "I should have thought, " she continued, looking him full in the eyes, "that the manhood in you would haveforever prevented your return. " Felipe winced under her words. A darkflush of anger suffused his face, and his lips quivered in an effort toframe the hot words he was about to utter in reply, but he checkedhimself. 

"One is sometimes forced to follow the bidding of an instinct or desireeven against one's will, " he said, controlling himself with difficulty. She drew her glove on her right hand without replying and took a step inthe direction of the _patio_, as though to depart. 

"Chiquita!" he exclaimed, stepping quickly in front of her and barringher way, "I have tried my best to remain away, but in spite of myself, I've been drawn irresistibly back to you--I could not help it. Besides, "he added, "you must realize what it costs me. "

"Better had you spared yourself the humiliation, Don Felipe, " sheanswered. 

"Listen, Chiquita, to what I have to say!"

"Spare yourself the pain, Don Felipe Ramirez. Nothing you can say canalter my attitude toward you, " she interrupted. 

"You must hear what I have to say!" he cried passionately, withoutheeding her impatience. "Ever since we parted, I have done nothing buttravel, travel, over the face of the earth, in the vain hope offorgetting you. And if, during that time, I have committed excesses, itwas the love of you that drove me to it in order that I might efface youfrom my memory forever. But, as you see, I cannot do it, and--I havecome back again. " It was easy to read the agony in his heart, divine thesuffering which his humiliation caused him, and yet his words did notmove her; not an atom of pity did they arouse within her, knowing as shedid the arrogant, selfish being that he was. 

"Chiquita, I love you still!" he burst forth. 

"How dare you speak of love to me?" she cried. "Have you forgottenPepita Delaguerra, whom you ruined, for whose death you are responsible?You laughed and went on your way; she was only a flower to be broken andtossed aside. Well, I've not forgotten the day on which I found heralone and deserted, nor the hour of her death. "

"Chiquita, " he interrupted, "if suffering can atone for that misdeed--"

"Ah! not so fast, Don Felipe Ramirez, " she answered, cutting him short. "Let us understand one another once and for all! She forgave you withher dying breath, but as I knelt over her dead body, I vowed that ifever you crossed my path and made advances to me that, as sure asthere's a God in heaven, I would encourage you, lead you on until youwere mad, and then fling you from me like the dog that you are in orderthat you, too, might learn what it is to live without the one youlove!"

Had she spat in his face, she could not have aroused the tiger in himmore effectually. 

"Chiquita!" he cried, gasping, his face livid with rage, "you're adevil!"

"No, I'm only a woman who had the courage to avenge another woman'swrong, " she answered quietly. "Don't imagine that a wrong committed canever be atoned for. It may be condoned by the world, or even forgiven bythe one who was wronged, but that is all; the deed stands foreverwritten against one. " She watched him as he paced back and forth withclenched hands and teeth, his face ashen, his lips quivering, his wholebeing convulsed with emotion and remorse. For some minutes he was quiteunable to speak, the longing to scream and seize her by the throat andthrottle her was so overpowering. 

"I understand, " he said at length, in the calmest tone he could command, "you love Captain Forest; you think to marry him. "

"That's no concern of yours!" she retorted, hotly. 

"Listen, Chiquita, " he said, fiercely. "The cold blood that flows in hisveins can never satisfy the warm passion of the South--a woman of yournature. I am richer than he is; I can strew your path with gold. I willmake amends for the past; I was young, then. My one desire in life willbe to fulfill your slightest wish, to live for your happiness only. Anysacrifice you name, I will make. I will make over my entire fortune toyou if you will consent to our marriage. "

"It makes me sick to hear you talk of love and marriage, " she answered. "Your idea of love is solely that of possession. What sort of lovecould one like you give me in comparison to his?"

"Ah! you do love him! But you will never marry him, " he retortedfuriously. "If I do not possess you, no one else shall!"

"Ah! you will kill me, perhaps?" she said, divining his thought. "Well, then, be it so! What greater felicity could there be for me than to diein the knowledge that he loves me--perhaps in his arms?" She drew back apace and placing both hands on her breast, said: "Strike, Don Felipe, when and where the moment pleases you best!"

"Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed. "How could you take me to be so simple, sofoolish? Oh, no, Señorita, not until the hour that you have exchangedvows and, intoxicated by love's first kiss, he presses you to his heart, then--then, Señorita, will I lay him dead at your feet in order that youalso may realize what it is to live without the one you love, " he saidwith a sneer, a faint smile wreathing his cruel lips as he watched theeffect his words had upon her. There was a malicious gleam of exultationin his eyes as he saw her draw herself together suddenly and shudder asthough struck by a knife. 

"What say you to that, Señorita?" and he laughed in her face. 

"What, dead at my feet? Such a one as you come between me and myhappiness?" The rich red bronze of her face faded to a livid hue, almostwhite in its intensity. A strange, terrible light came into her eyesand, as she glided close up to him, he recoiled from her in terror asthough from a panther about to spring. Don Felipe had never stood sonear to death before. She halted and raised her right hand as if tostrike him across the face, then paused and lowered it. 

"Don Felipe Ramirez, " she hissed in an almost inaudible voice, "if youso much as harm a hair of his head, I'll tear you limb from limb!"

"Bah!" he replied, recovering his equilibrium. "Do you think I fear awoman?"

"Don Felipe, " she began slowly, controlling with effort the violentemotions that swept over her, "it is no idle boast if I remind you thatno one in Chihuahua shoots better than I do. "

"Ha!" he laughed, snapping his fingers. "You think to kill me?"

"And if I did, " she replied slowly, her voice vibrant with passion, "youwould not be the first man I have killed, Don Felipe Ramirez. And what'smore, if it comes to a question of you or him, I'll kill you as I woulda snake or sage-rabbit. " He started. He began to see her in a new light. With her subtle wit, her grace and alluring beauty, she was far moredangerous than a man; but he was not intimidated. Craven though his soulmight be, he could not be accused of cowardice in the face of danger. Besides, what had he to live for? Better be dead than forced to livewithout her. 

"Hearken, Don Felipe Ramirez, " she continued calmly, her eyes riveted onhis face. "I have ridden many times in battle by the side of my fatherbefore his death. The last time came very near being my end; it was whenthe Government sent troops against my people, and we were surrounded inthe hills. That day my horse was killed under me twice. All day long wefought and charged the enemy's lines, but to no avail--we could notbreak them. The young officer in command of the Government's troops notonly outgeneraled all our maneuvers, but his life seemed charmed, for, fire at him as often as we liked, we could not hit him. Finallyrealizing that there was no hope of escape so long as he remained incommand, I rode forth alone between the lines and challenged him tosingle combat. He accepted the challenge, but when he drew near and sawthat I was a woman, he refused to fight, for he was gallant as he wasbrave. But I was too quick for him; I forced him to fight. His bulletwent through my shoulder, mine through his heart. " She paused for aninstant, then resumed. "So, just as we that day passed over that braveyoung officer's body, so shall I pass over yours, Don Felipe Ramirez, ifyou persist in standing in my way. "

For the first time he saw her in her true light--the Amazon, the womanwho had been trained to fight as men fight, and who had fought shoulderto shoulder with men. He was silent. Never had she appeared sobeautiful, so terrible, so alluring and irresistible as during herrecital. The hour had come; the circle of death had closed about them, and he knew now for a certainty that it meant either his life or hers;that there was no longer any hope of a reconciliation, no longer roomfor them both in this life. 

"Do you imagine that I fear the threats of a woman?" he said at last, inthe same sneering tone as before, in which she, too, read hisunmistakable answer. 

"You have been warned, " she answered quietly, and giving him a lastsearching look, she turned and left him abruptly. Had ever mortal drunkdeeper of the cup of humiliation than he? The sound of her footsteps andtinkle of her spurs died away along the pathway as she disappearedaround the corner of the house. He noted that she carried herself aserect as ever; every movement bespoke the unconquerable pride of herrace. God! how he hated her! What would he not give to break thatpride--that pride which seemed to enable her to surmount every obstacle. It was not enough to kill Captain Forest. No, she must be brokencompletely, humiliated in the eyes of the world, humbled to the dust ashe had been humbled; nothing short of that could satisfy him now. Buthow, how was her ruin to be accomplished? he asked himself as he pacedback and forth, almost suffocating with rage. Suddenly an idea flashedthrough his mind, causing him to stop short. 

"Ah!" he cried aloud, "why did she dance; why has she concealed hermotive so carefully from the world? It must be the clew to some mysteryin her life! God! if I could but learn the reason--"

"What would Don Felipe Ramirez give to know?" came a voice from behindhim, causing him to start and turn around just in time to see Juanemerge from the lilac bushes. 

"Juan Ramon!" he exclaimed. 

"Aye, _Caballero_!" replied Juan lightly, raising his _sombrero_ as headvanced. 

"What do you know?" asked Felipe, half contemptuously, regarding himwith keen, searching eyes. 

"Don't worry about what I know; leave that to me for the present, "answered Juan, his peculiarly cold smile lighting up his face. "But whatwill you give to know, Don Felipe Ramirez?" he continued, with the keenair of the tradesman who beholds a sure customer before him and isdetermined to drive a sharp bargain. 

"What will I give?" repeated Felipe, slowly, relapsing into thought. Forsome time he was silent, during which he regarded Juan's featuresintently, as if to assure himself of the latter's good faith. Thensuddenly and impetuously he cried: "I'll tell you, Juan Ramon! I'll giveyou gold enough to keep you drunk and your mistress clothed in silks andsatins for the rest of your days! Aye, the finest pair of horses in allMexico shall draw your carriage, and you shall have money to gamble. "

"Then have patience for but a little while longer, Don Felipe Ramirez, "replied Juan, rubbing the palms of his long, slim hands together, asthough he already felt the magic touch of the gold and heard its musicalclink in his ears. 

"I hear that fortune has played you false of late, Juan Ramon, " saidFelipe. 

"'Tis the very devil, Señor!" answered Juan with an oath. 

"Here, take this, " continued Felipe, handing him a roll of bank noteswhich he drew from his pocket. "You shall have as many men and horses toassist you in the work as you want, " he added. 

"Horses I will need, but no men, Don Felipe, " replied Juan, jubilantover the return of fortune. The bargain was better than he hadanticipated. 

XXI

Dick Yankton had taken on a new lease of life. He no longer walked--heflew. Like Hermes of old his feet seemed to have become suddenly endowedwith wings, with the result that his head was coming into dangerousproximity to the clouds. 

"_Dios!_ what had come over Señor Dick, who was on the best of termswith every man, woman and child and dog in Santa Fé?" So potent was thedraught which he had imbibed, that he appeared to have been strickensuddenly with blindness and the loss of memory at one and the sameinstant. The salutations of his friends and acquaintances who greetedhim when he walked abroad were left unnoticed; his gaze fixed dreamilyon space before him. What had happened? Had he come into possession of anew mine, or was he engaged in locating one through means of thatpsychic sense or inner vision of the seer which he seemed to possess?Had the real cause of his perturbation been guessed--that a woman'ssmile had suddenly opened heaven's gates to him, a ripple of laughterwould have gone the rounds of Santa Fé. The mere suggestion that theSeñor Dick could be seriously in love was too absurd; his friends weretoo well acquainted with the flirtatious side of his nature ever tocredit such a possibility. And yet, when Anita, his Indian housekeeperand wife of his overseer and general factotum, Concho, saw the amazingquantities of flowers, still wet with the morning's dew, that were dailytransported to the _Posada_, her suspicions became aroused. She began toquestion Concho concerning them, and when he finally admitted that awoman was the recipient of them, she raised her eyebrows with theknowing look of a woman who has guessed the truth. 

"I thought so, " she answered quietly, a peculiar smile illumining herdark countenance as she seated herself in the doorway of the refectorywhich opened on the _patio_, and disposed herself comfortably, preparatory to the interesting bit of gossip which she intended to screwout of her husband. 

She was of medium height, of the spare, slender type, and must have beenattractive in her youth, for even now, in spite of middle age, she wascomely to look upon. She wore a red rose in her black hair, while apartially drooping eyelid gave a piquant, coquettish expression to herface. 

"Holy Virgin! but this is interesting!" she went on after a pause. "TheSeñor in love, really in love!" and she laughed quietly to herself, while she took a pinch of tobacco and a leaf of brown paper from thepocket of her apron and began rolling a cigarette. 

"Bah!" said Concho, accompanying the exclamation with a shrug of theshoulders. "You women are always imagining things which do not exist. Have we not often seen the Señor like this before? Has he not completelyspoiled the Señoritas of the town with his flowers? He's bored. He'strying to amuse himself, that's all. "

"And didst thou not say, " continued Anita, without heeding his remarks, regarding him out of the corners of her eyes while lighting hercigarette, "that she is not quite so tall as the other one, but equallybeautiful in her way; that she is pink and white at one and the samemoment, just like a half-blown rose, and soft and satiny as the down ona swan's neck?"

"It is all true, Anita _mia_, she is even that and more!" respondedConcho with warmth. "She is worth a journey to the _Posada_ to see, butthen, what is that--what are a few wisps of flowers?"

"Wisps? Armfuls, thou meanest, Concho! When did the Señor ever lavish somany flowers upon one woman before? He told me they were for thehospital, " she chuckled, "but I have always been able to tell whetherthe Señor was speaking the truth or not. Thou knowest the way he has ofsaying the opposite to that which he means, " and she blew a ring ofsmoke into the still air and watched it as it floated upwards. 

"Concho, " she said after some moments' reflection, "thou art a fool! Ialways said thou wert, and now I know it. The hospital--bah! How couldhe have ever thought me so simple?" she exclaimed in a tone of mingledsarcasm and disgust. "I tell thee, Concho, all women are the same eitheron this side of the world or the other. The one thou hast just describedto me is the most dangerous of all women for a man like the Señor tomeet. That is, if she is clever, " she added. "But have we not all heardhow clever and beautiful the _Americana_ Señoritas are?"

"Aye, there is nothing to compare with them in the whole land, with theexception of the Chiquita, of course, " replied Concho. 

"Exactly; just what I have been saying, Concho _mio_, " Anita went on, surveying her spouse with a look of pitying superiority. "Why, onlyyesterday, when he was here, I knew instantly by his air of distractionthat something unusual had happened. Never has he been so particularbefore. He went all over the place, inspecting everything to theminutest detail, just like a woman. Nothing pleased him; and when hecame to the flowers, which everybody knows are the finest in allChihuahua, he declared they were not fit for a dog to sniff at, andrated the gardeners soundly for their negligence. 

"Ah!" she sighed, the expression of her countenance softening, "theplace needs a mistress badly--it is the one thing it lacks. There was atime when I hoped it might be the Chiquita, but since fate has ordainedthat it should be otherwise, let us pray that it may be this one. Infact, " she exclaimed, looking up and emphasizing her words, "from whatthou hast told me of her, I know it will be she or none, and may heavengrant that it please the Saints either to give her to him or protect himfrom her, for the Señor is a man who can really love but once. Take awoman's word for it, Concho, these are the true symptoms of love. "Having delivered herself thus forcibly, she tossed aside the end of hercigarette and rose from the doorsill. 

"Thou wert always a fool, Concho, " she added, regarding himcompassionately with a smile and patting him on the cheek. Then turning, she disappeared in the house, leaving Concho to marvel at herastuteness, a thing he had never suspected. 

Meanwhile, the subject under discussion was pacing the floor of his roomin the _Posada_ like a caged lion. For one whole week Bessie Van Ashtonhad seemingly thrown wide the portals of her heart and bade him enter, aprivilege of which he was not slow to avail himself. Never had womanflirted to better advantage or succeeded more effectually in turning aman's head in so short a time as had this distracting, fair-hairedwitch. The only regret experienced by Mr. Yankton during these hours ofunalloyed happiness, was the thought of the days he had lost--days whichmight have been spent in her society had he only known. How blind he hadbeen not to have recognized her the instant he had set eyes on her, instead of compelling the Almighty to remind him that she was the womanthat had been reserved for him by dropping her down out of a clear skyinto his arms! How stupid of him, and how patient Providence was withsome of us at times!

During the few short days which followed that happy accident--days thatseemed like so many swift, fleeting seconds, Dick floated on a summersea whose surface was unmarred by shadow or ripple. All the world hadchanged. He felt as though he had only just begun to live, and he spun agolden web of fancies out of the reality of things which, for one sodeeply versed in the game of life, was a marvel of beauty, fair as apoet's dream, yet more substantial. And why not? Had not his life beenone replete with adventure and romance from the cradle? His meeting withBessie was no more remarkable than many other things that had occurredduring his lifetime. It was now perfectly clear to him why he had builtthe _hacienda_ in the face of adverse judgment. It was for her, ofcourse. A place in which to enshrine and worship her during the years tocome; for what else could it be?

That insane notion of a white-haired patriarch enjoying the solitude ofthe place was too absurd--a morbid fancy born of loneliness andmelancholy. The walk back to the _Posada_ on the day of their startlingencounter and the hours spent in Bessie's society since then--strollingand chatting in the garden, or going for long rides over the plainstogether, had convinced him it was not intended that man should livealone. He had taken good care that she should learn nothing of theexistence of the _hacienda_ or of his wealth, and as little as possibleconcerning himself, except that he was an agreeable young man with fairprospects; and thus far, thanks to the Captain's silence and herignorance of Spanish, he had succeeded admirably. 

Fair prospects! The secret was almost too good to keep, and he laughedsoftly to himself as he mused upon it. It was truly an inspiration; justthe sort of thing to hand out to one of Newport's smart-set. Although hehad not yet proposed to her, he regarded their marriage as a foregoneconclusion; an event of the near future. She certainly had led him toinfer as much, and the plan he had conceived regarding it was highlyingenious--one worthy of his fertile imagination. Directly they weremarried, they would spend the first fortnight of their honeymoon campingin the mountains in a style worthy of a grand Mogul, after which hewould suggest that they pass the night at a near-by _rancho_ belongingto a friend, and in this wise introduce her to her future home. 

The rapture of the picture fairly dazzled him, and he lay awake wholenights contemplating it--the _patio_ palely illumined by the moonlight, the murmur of the fountain in its center, the perfume of flowers, themelodious voices of the dark-skinned Indian attendants, bearing flamingtorches, and chanting the time-honored welcome to their new mistress, and her insistent demands to be introduced to their host; and then thedelightful dénouement, the surprise she must experience when the truthfinally dawned upon her. Truly poet never dreamed a fairer dream. It hadtaken him a whole week to conceive the idea in detail, and on themorning of the seventh day on which he had decided to ask her to becomehis wife, he stood with the horses before the _Posada_ expectantlyawaiting her appearance to take the ride they had agreed upon the nightbefore. At the end of an hour, during which he fretted over the unduedelay with the same impatience as did the horses, Rosita appeared andinformed him that the Señorita Van Ashton would not ride that morning;she was not feeling well. A wild alarm seized him. The thought that shemight have been stricken suddenly with some serious illness, quiteunnerved him for the moment. "_Caramba!_" he cried, quite forgetting hisEnglish. "What has happened? Is it serious? Is anything being done?" Butall inquiries concerning the actual state of the Señorita's healthproving fruitless, he was left to pass the remainder of the daywandering aimlessly about the garden in the vain hope of findingsomething to divert his mind. Had he been in possession of his usualcalm, he might have noticed the amused expression on Rosita's face, butthe extent of one's concern being the measure of one's love for aperson, he saw only the vivid mental picture of his consuming passion, Bessie, suffering Bessie!

It was the first jarring note in that state of uninterrupted bliss whichhe had been enjoying, and as the day wore painfully on he began torealize how much she had become to him. He was haunted by misgivings, and finally, late in the afternoon, having convinced himself that he hadexhausted the resources of the garden, he decided to pass the time untilthe dinner hour upon the veranda on the other side of the house. Thitherhe repaired, but oddly enough and greatly to his astonishment, as hestepped out upon the veranda, he came face to face with Miss Van Ashtonreturning from a walk in the town. She was charmingly gowned in a soft, clinging creation of pale lavender and white lace, with long white suèdegloves and low lavender shoes and silk stockings, an inch or so of whichshe flashed before his eyes, proclaiming the society belle'sprerogative. She carried a parasol of the same color and material as herdress, while her head was crowned with a sweeping, rakishly plumedRembrandtesque hat worn at a killing angle. The gold in her hair and theexquisite pink and white of her throat and cheeks blended perfectly witha color scheme, the attractiveness of which was greatly enhanced by hernatural charm and the delicate scent of lavender and rose leaves whichemanated from her person, the combined effects of which were not lostupon an over-wrought imagination. 

To use the current vernacular of the times, so familiar to the world inwhich she moved, Miss Van Ashton's appearance was decidedly fetching, and strongly suggestive of the things of which poets, in their madness, are continually harping--flower gardens flooded with moonlight and thesong of nightingales. Although not modeled on heroic lines, shenevertheless possessed the qualifications which most men seek in womenand therefore became quite as formidable as Delilah when she chose toassert herself. To say that Mr. Yankton was dazzled but mildly expresseshis feelings; he was ravished, though in no mood for banter. Had theirmeeting occurred under more auspicious circumstances, he undoubtedlywould have complimented her on her charming appearance; but for one whohad been eating his heart out during eight consecutive hours solely onher account, it was hardly to be expected. The sight of her, though arelief to his mind, gave rise to thoughts the nature of which he foundit difficult to conceal. 

"What!" he cried, furious and aghast, scarcely believing his eyes as thetruth slowly began to dawn upon him. "They told me you were ill--thatyou couldn't appear to-day!"

"Ill? How very strange!" she answered in feigned surprise, with a faraway, vacant look in her eyes, as though she had just met him for thefirst time, rendering him quite speechless. "Really, Mr. Yankton, " shecontinued in the coldest, most distant manner she could command, "Inever felt better in my life!" And without allowing him time to catchhis breath, she passed by him and slammed the door in his face, from theother side of which he fancied he heard her silvery, rippling laughter, the nature of which sounded suspiciously like a titter. 

Woman never delivered a more crushing blow. In that instant Mr. Yanktonsaw more stars than the firmament contains. It was like being thrownsuddenly into a river on a cold morning. Miss Van Ashton's methods mightbe regarded as somewhat harsh by certain persons, but realizing thatheroic measures were the only cure for the dangerous distemper thatthreatened her peace of mind, she had acted without hesitancy. Besides, was she not in a measure justified in wishing to even up their scores?

Oh, the fickleness of woman! How cleverly she had deceived him, and whatan ass he had been! She had been playing with him all the while, and ashe paced the floor, revolving what course to pursue, he wondered how hecould have been so simple. True, she was different from any woman he hadever met, but dazed though he was by her sudden change of front, he wasnot disheartened. On the contrary, she had become more attractive thanever. His blood fairly boiled at the thought of his defeat, but he wouldprofit by the experience--change his tactics completely. The more sheavoided him, the more persistent he would become. If she did not seehim, she would be kept a prisoner in the house. He would give her nopeace, day or night. He would dog her footsteps, confront her at everyturn, pursue her with the most reckless and relentless ardor and utterdisregard of what the world might think; treat her as he would anunbroken horse--give her no rest, but keep her on the jump until he hadworn her out, and then close with her. 

XXII

The situation was becoming intolerable. Something must be done and doneat once to clear the atmosphere. Captain Forest's apparent indifferenceto all things, including herself, aroused Blanch to a pitch ofexasperation which might best be likened to that of a high-strung, thoroughbred horse that has been ignominiously hitched to a plow andcompelled to drag it. At the end of a week he either drops dead in thefurrow or becomes a broken-spirited hack for the rest of his days. 

Nothing short of love or hatred could satisfy her. It was a newexperience. Never had she suffered such ignominy. It was like beingcoerced. One could respect an enemy, but this exasperating indifferencewas unendurable. The more she thought of it, the more convinced shebecame, that it was just such an antagonistic attitude which hadprompted the beautiful, though wicked Borgia, to administer certain lovepotions to numerous unappreciative gallants. Deliberate, cold-bloodedmurder committed under such extenuating circumstances began to appearmore in the light of justice than of crime. 

Captain Forest offered an entirely new front. Not that he had changed somuch, she knew better than that, but she marveled at his self-control. The dash and spirit of the soldier, which every one admired so much inhim, had given way to the most insulting, good-humored complacency; theframe of mind one looks for in an aged sinner whose terror of anuncertain future has driven him to prepare for heaven. She knew wellenough that his attitude was assumed for a purpose only, until he hadmade up his mind what to do; waiting to make up his mind as to which ofthem, she or Chiquita, was preferable. This, of course, was merely ajealous supposition on her part. 

She had hoped to arouse his jealousy, or, failing in that, at least hisenthusiasm. Thus far she had failed to accomplish either and she couldnot understand it. Surely he was flesh and blood like other men, yetnothing seemed to move him. He appeared like one at peace with all theworld, calm and serene as a summer's day, and smoked incessantly. Shecould endure it no longer. The depression from which she suffered wascrushing her slowly and irresistibly to earth. She was at her wits' endto know what to do to relieve the tension, until she finally hit uponthe idea of giving an old-fashioned Spanish _fandango_--a _fiesta_. 

The thought was a happy one. It was not only one of those things she hadalways wanted to see, but it would be a break--something to relieve thestrain of her daily existence; she pursuing, he avoiding her. Thenovelty of the scene--the bright, gay costumes of the Mexicans, musicand twinkling lights, dancing and wine and laughter and song, and thestars overhead, mellowed by the light of the full moon, must infuse newlife into them all--recall memories of other days to him. With such asetting, a woman of her beauty, refinement and attraction, and an adeptat the game of flattery and intrigue, must shine with new luster--becomedoubly dangerous and irresistible to a man. Though this was her chiefmotive for giving the _fiesta_, she had still another in view. 

The fame of Chiquita's dancing had naturally aroused her curiosity. Shewould ask her to dance; not that she believed the half of what she heardconcerning it, but it would be a satisfaction to see it. Besides, shehad a certain motive of her own for so doing which she imparted to noone; the subtlest of a woman's thoughts which only the intuition of awoman could have prompted. She laughed to herself at the thought whichinvariably aroused within her a feeling akin to triumph. Why had she notthought of it before? She knew the Captain had already seen her dance, but then that was before he knew who she was. It had been in a theater, and his enthusiasm must have been prompted in a measure by that of theaudience about him. The emotion of a large assembly was alwayscontagious--sweeping the individual along with it. Whereas, in private, her dancing, lacking the glamour and artificiality of the stage, wouldbe a very different thing. It would appear in a more realistic, commonplace light. Any faults which the atmosphere of the stage mighthave concealed would immediately become apparent in the light of naturalsurroundings and her performance sink to the level of the commonplace. 

Her dancing could only be amateurish at its best, for where could shepossibly have learned to dance? What instruction could she, living inthis out-of-the-way corner of the world, have received in the art? Asfor local enthusiasm, it counted for little--amateurs were always sopopular at home. And after all was said, what did the achievements ofthe great dancers really amount to? Their creations were not ranked withthose of other artistic achievements. In fact, dancing could scarcely beranked with the legitimate branches of art at all. At its best, it wasonly a pastime; something to amuse. This, of course, was the light inwhich she viewed one of the greatest arts which few ever succeed inmastering. Possibly because the world has really seen no dancing tospeak of since the days of the great Taglioni, until the Pavlowaappeared. Even parts of the latter's art were questionable, but then, she was the Pavlowa!

Chiquita's dancing differed from anything Captain Forest had ever seen. As a matter of fact, much of it would not have been called dancing atall by many people, so different has the modern conception of the artbecome since the days of the ancients. But where had she received herinstruction? The ability to dance, like any other talent, is born inone, not acquired. True, it must be developed through constant practicejust like any other talent, if ever it is to amount to anything; buteven then, great dancers are born just as great painters, poets andmusicians are born. 

The Indian's greatest pastime and amusement is dancing, and Chiquita haddanced almost daily from earliest childhood to her sixteenth year whenfate had led her to Padre Antonio's door. Then she went to the City ofMexico and also had visited Europe. In both places she had had theopportunity of seeing some of the greatest dancers of the day and wasable to draw comparisons between their conceptions of the art and hers. But when she began the study of ancient history her attention was calledto the Greeks' conception of the art, and she soon discovered thatmodern dancing was a direct violation of that which was most plastic inart, and consisted chiefly of contortions, high kicking and pirouettingon the toes. She also discovered that the conceptions of her own peopleregarding the art stood nearer that of the ancients than did modernman's. To her it was an interesting discovery. It was as natural for herto dance as to breathe, and from that hour she began to study andpractice the art with renewed interest. 

Shortly after her admittance to the convent, it was also discovered thatshe possessed a voice of unusual quality and range; and, as PadreAntonio had instructed the Sisters to do their utmost to develop anynatural talent she might possess to a marked degree, the best teacher invoice culture which the city afforded was procured for her. These werePadre Antonio's wishes and they had been obeyed conscientiously by theSisters who recognized Chiquita's strong dramatic ability. 

The years passed, and, as the day finally arrived on which she was toleave school, the performances which marked the closing exercises weregiven as usual by the pupils. The last number on the programmerepresented an ancient Greek festival arranged by Padre Alesandro, theinstructor in classic literature, in which Chiquita took the leadingpart, and in which, at her request, she was permitted to introduce adance of her own creation. Among the many guests that had been invitedto attend the closing ceremonies was one Signor Tosti, a ballet-master, who at the time was visiting the Capitol with an Italian opera company. A friend whose daughter took part in the exercises had persuaded him, much against his will, to attend; for what possible interest could aveteran of the ballet take in such amateurish exhibitions?

Touring the world with a troup of quarrelsome artists was arduous workfor a tired old gentleman at its best. So, like the sensible man that hewas, he promptly went to sleep at the opening of the performance andprobably would have slept through the entire evening, had he not beenaroused from his slumbers in the midst of the last number on theprogramme by the sound of a glorious voice--a deep mezzo-soprano of therichest contralto quality. Opening his eyes, he saw an assembly ofbeautifully clad, flower-bedecked Grecian youths and maidens drawn upacross the back of the stage, chanting the chorus, and in their midst, in the foreground, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Hedrew himself up with a start and rubbed his eyes to assure himself thathe was really awake. And then, considering the occasion and the time andthe place, he witnessed a performance that fairly took his breath away. 

His Southern temperament became thoroughly aroused, and at theconclusion of the dance, he suddenly rose from his seat and withoutwaiting for an introduction, rushed to the stage and springing upon it, bowed low before Chiquita and seizing her hand, kissed it in view of theaudience. No one knew better than he did that, in his profession, a newstar had just fallen from heaven to earth. The following day he and thedirector of his company waited upon Chiquita and offered her any sum shemight choose to name if she would consent to join the company and returnto Europe with them. But they did not know what Chiquita's past hadbeen--that she was still the Amazon as of old--that the woman who hadbeen trained to battle in her early youth the same as the men of herpeople had been trained, regarded as mere pastime that which theyconsidered one of the heights of earthly attainment. The woman who atsunrise had listened daily to the song of the Memnon, who hadexperienced the shock of battle, whose life lived close to nature hadtaught her the meaning of the ethics of the dust and instilled into herveins the rippling laughter of water and sunshine and the song of thewinds, and whose every breath had been the rapturous breath of freedom, viewed life from a different standpoint than that of men debased bycenturies of servitude. The world of their creation was trifling incomparison to that of God's which to her was all sufficing and enabledher to look upon their doings with the same equanimity and indulgence asthat with which the parent regards the frolicsome gambols of the child. 

Twenty years of almost uninterrupted practice had kept her body andlimbs supple and pliant, but this Blanch did not know. 

XXIII

True to his resolve, Dick rose to the exigency of the occasion by layingstubborn siege to Miss Van Ashton's heart. During the day he bombardedher with flowers and books and bonbons, and gentle but passionatemissives; all of which the fair recipient as promptly hurled back intohis face. At night relays of musicians serenaded her uninterruptedlyuntil the glowing cast announced the coming of a new day. He took thewhole household into his confidence, rendering it impossible for her toset foot outside her door without meeting him. 

The first day she laughed at his eccentricities; on the second, she grewfurious, and on the third, not having closed her eyes for two whole daysand nights, she felt herself on the verge of a nervous collapse. Therebeing no rest for any one, Colonel Van Ashton suddenly appeared beforehis daughter on the morning of the fourth day and gave her to understandthat if the infernal nuisance did not cease instantly he would shoot thefirst person who entered the garden that evening after he had retired. And to back his threat, he displayed a new automatic pistol which he hadpurchased in the town the day before; the shopkeeper having assured himthat, for a running fire, it was the most convenient and effectiveweapon on the market. The Colonel was in a reckless mood and seemed inimminent danger of losing in a moment the self-control which years ofcivilization had instilled within him. Having been literally goaded tomadness, little wonder that he too was on the verge of succumbing to thecustoms of the land, and was beginning to feel a secret longing to shootand swear and swagger and destroy. Knowing her father to be as good ashis word, and to possess the courage of a lion when aroused, Bessiefound herself forced to capitulate a day earlier than she otherwisewould have, for, incensed though she was, not even a woman of her gritand spirit could possibly have held out much longer under conditionsthat turned night into day. 

It was galling in the extreme to be compelled to surrender so soon, butthere being no alternative, she was obliged to accept the humiliationwith the best grace possible. Accordingly, she appeared in the gardenlate on the afternoon of the fourth day where she espied the object ofher wrath and annoyance seated comfortably on the grass at the foot of apear tree, and as usual--smoking. The sight of him was hardly conduciveto soothe the feelings of one who inwardly was a seething volcano, andshe vowed that she would pay him out to the full before she was donewith him. 

He seemed greatly surprised by her appearance, and hastily throwing awayhis cigar, rose to his feet with the intention of speaking to her, butwithout noticing him, she made her way to the farthest corner of thegarden and seated herself in a large rustic chair that stood in theshadow of the high wall which surrounded the garden. She knew he wouldnot be long in renewing his persecutions. And angry though she was, shecould not help wondering at the novelty of the situation. She, BessieVan Ashton, placed at the mercy of an obscure person, a rustic nobody!Like every other woman, she had dreamed of such a man as this, one thatwould seize and carry her off; but then the time and place were otherthan the present, and he resembled more closely the type of man withwhich she had been familiar all her life. The spirit of antagonism whichhe aroused was due rather to pique than to dislike, for in spite of hisaudacity she could not help admiring his spirit. 

Her sense of injury was poignantly enhanced by the fact that sherecognized herself to be the true cause of her trouble. Had she not ledhim on this thing might never have happened; and yet, she was neithersorry nor repentant for what she had done. Had any other man dared takethe liberties he had taken with her, she would have despised him, butwith him, though she was unable to explain it, things were somehowdifferent. She was furious with him for kissing her, and yet deep downin her inner consciousness she was not so certain that she was sorry hehad done so. The things he did, which would have branded any other manas a cad, were the very things the man of her dreams might have doneunder similar circumstances. Yet she shuddered as she daily foresaw theconsequences that might ensue should she encourage him further. Flirting with a man whose high-handed, arbitrary methods dazed ratherthan offended her, was becoming dangerous. 

Self-preservation being always our first thought, she had decided tofly, but the presence of Blanch rendered such a course impossible. Theonly alternative left her was to extricate herself as swiftly andgracefully as possible from her dilemma by making herself asdisagreeable as possible in his eyes. In this wise she hoped todisillusion him, and it was with this intention she had come forth tomeet him. She could not see him from where she sat, having turned herback upon him; but, judging from the length of time it took him toapproach, she rightly conjectured that he had been walking in a circle, doubtless at a loss what course to pursue. The silence that ensued whenhe paused behind her was broken only by the sound of his laboredbreathing and a nervous cough, plainly betraying the embarrassment hefelt on finding himself once more in her presence. 

"Miss Van Ashton, " he said at length, "it is extremely gratifying toknow that you have at last decided to leave the oppressive walls of yourinhospitable abode for the world of sunshine without, where the essenceand being of all things fill one with a desire to live. " Nothing hecould have said at the moment could have aroused her resentment morethan this idiotic speech. She had expected him to eat humble pie, tothrow himself at her feet and implore forgiveness; but, no! She sprangto her feet and facing him, turned a pair of beautiful blazing eyes uponhim. She was so furious she choked, and for some moments was quiteunable to speak. 

"I suppose, " she said at last, her voice trembling with suppressedindignation, "that you take pleasure in pursuing a helpless woman like ahunted beast. It's so manly, " she added scathingly, looking in vain forsome sign of contrition in his face. "Why, " she went on, "if a man whereI live had done the hundredth part of what you have done, society wouldshun him as it would a pariah!"

"Or a leper, " he added good humoredly, quick to recognize thedisadvantage at which the loss of her temper placed her. "They must be apoor lot where you live, " he continued. "I think we had better pass themby without further comment. " She was suffocated--she could have bittenher tongue off!

"Have you no consideration for others' feelings--for what they mightwant?" she cried. 

"Ah! I see, Miss Van Ashton, " he answered, regarding hercompassionately. "You quite overlook the true facts of the case. This isnot at all a question of what you may want, but of what is best for you. I have merely been trying to tell you in my awkward way that it is notgood for one to live alone. " She laughed hysterically. The colossalimpudence of the man took her breath away. She gasped--attempted tospeak, but words failing her, turned her back upon him and began tearinginto shreds the end of the silken gauze Indian scarf which she wore overher shoulders. 

"Can't you think of what you want, Miss Van Ashton?" he asked gently, in the tone of one addressing a refractory child. 

"No!" she screamed, without at all realizing what she was saying. Tothink that this man was able to play with her like a worm on the end ofa pin! It was too much! "How dare you! I--I hate you!" she cried, without turning round and quite beside herself. There was no mistakingher attitude; he had gone far enough. The limit of her endurance hadbeen reached, and he suddenly became serious. Again there was silencebetween them. 

"Miss Van Ashton, " he said, drawing himself up, "it really doesn'tmatter what you or the rest of the world may think of me so long as Ican see you. Can you imagine what it would be like if you were never tosee the sun again? What could be more absurd than to allow such a trifleas convention to come between you and me? Three feet of wretched adobewall between me and heaven!" he burst forth. "The idea's preposterous!Why, if you shut yourself up in that miserable hovel again, I'll setfire to the place!" She knew he would. 

"Can't you understand, " he went on, his voice softening, "that yourattitude has aroused the savage, the primeval man in me--that, had I metyou here fifty or a hundred years ago, I would have picked you up andquietly carried you away? I know I've been a brute by driving you intothe open like this, but that's not me, myself--the man who loves you, who would pass through fire for you, who has dreamed of you and watchedand waited through the long years for your coming; and now that youhave come, you surely can't blame me for what I cannot help--for lovingyou and telling you so in my own way?"

She tried in vain to stifle the emotion his words aroused. She had setout with the intention of wringing this avowal from him in jest, but howdifferently it affected her now that she heard it. She forgot her anger, everything, in fact, as she listened to the flow of his passion andlonged to hear him continue. Every note of his voice thrilled her as itdid on the day she first saw him. She remembered that she experienced apeculiar sensation at the time; that his appearance reminded her of theheroic type of manhood which the ancients had sought to depict in theirmarbles. In him she had unconsciously recognized the true spirit of theArgonaut on whose brow rests the star of empire. She did not idealizehim; she simply recognized him for what he was--a man; one in whose soulthe sentiment and enthusiasm of youth still sat enthroned, not smotheredby the crushing process of modern civilization which was the case withthe men she knew. A terror seized her as she compared the latter to him, and beheld how small they appeared beside him. 

"Miss Van Ashton, " he continued passionately, "you wouldn't thank me ifI continued to bandy words with the woman I love, whose presence hasbecome the sunshine of life to me. The whole world has become filledwith song since you came into my life. Music and laughter have taken theplace of loneliness and despair. Flowers spring from the earth whereyour feet rest! Don't imagine that you can ever estrange yourself fromme. Wherever you are, by day or by night, waking or dreaming, I alsowill be there and ever whispering: 'Bessie Van Ashton, I love you--youhave filled my life so completely I can't live without you!'"

Had her face been turned toward him, he would have seen that it wasradiant, that her eyes shone with unusual brilliancy, that her handstrembled beneath the folds of her scarf where she had concealed them. 

"Bessie, sweet--"

"Stop!" she cried, almost in a voice of terror. "I've not given youpermission to speak to me, thus--to call me by name--"

"Then turn round and say you will be human once more! That you will talkand walk and ride again! If you don't, I'll begin all over again bytelling you that you are the sweetest--"

"Hush!" she said softly, turning round abruptly with a gesture ofprotest, looking up into his face, and then down at the ground toconceal her confusion. "I think we understand one another, " she said atlength, and raising her eyes to his again, she held out both her handswhich he seized and held in his own. 

"Let us be friends again, " she continued, gently withdrawing her handsfrom his. 

"No, don't say that!" he interrupted. "We can't be that! Let it rest asit is!"

XXIV

"When you love, you love, " runs a gypsy proverb. 

Bessie wore the despairing look of one who clings to a last vain hope. How had it happened? Why had everything gone contrary to herexpectations? Why was Mr. Yankton dragging her at the wheels of hischariot instead of she him? According to her social standards he hadseen but little, and yet he had the _savoir faire_ of a man of theworld. Her preconceived ideas on certain subjects were so upset that sheno longer appeared to have a hold on anything; the very ground seemed tobe slipping away beneath her. 

Strange that one could care for the person whom one least expected to, that the most humiliating moment in one's life might be the happiest aswell. If any one had suggested such a possibility to her six monthspreviously, she would have laughed at the mere thought. How could sherelinquish the life she knew for his? She fought against his influencewith all her powers of resistance. And yet, what woman in her right mindwould hesitate to follow the man of her choice to the sunlit valleys ofour dreams? Weaker women than she had done so and been happy, whilestronger ones had hesitated, as was the case with Blanch, and lived toregret it. She secretly prayed that she might be spared the torturewhich Blanch was suffering and the despair which must inevitablyovertake her should she fail to win back the man she had let slip fromher; for what, after all, could life be to one without the truecomradeship of love? She began to feel and realize the ineffablesweetness of life's fullness as the days of her awakening continued, while the ache at her heart told her plainly enough that the decisivemoment of her life had arrived--that she must choose between happinessand ambition. The one, rich and full though accompanied perhaps by painand even denial at times; the other fraught with uncertainty. 

She understood now the meaning of Chiquita's passionate longing for theman she loved; a thing which the worldliness of the life she had livedhitherto had taught her to be too extravagant to exist anywhere outsideof books, but which was true nevertheless. Her intuition told her thisin the face of all the world might say to the contrary. As she lookedback over the years and thought of her friends, she realized that shelike them had submerged her life in the superficial pleasures of theworld; but had they filled her cup of happiness? Until now she had notfelt the lack of life's crowning joy, for the reason that youth isbuoyant and full of hope, and the grand passion had not yet entered intoher life. These and a thousand other thoughts ran through her mind thatnight as she recalled Dick's words. 

She could not sleep. From where she lay she could see the moonlight inthe _patio_ and hear the murmur of the fountain in its center. The nightseemed to beckon and whisper to her to come outside. So she arose andsilently dressed herself in the dimly moonlit room without disturbingBlanch, who murmured incoherently in her sleep of the things she wasthinking of. She slipped noiselessly through the low window to the_patio_ without and stealthily made her way in the shadow of theoverhanging arcades to the garden beyond. 

The hour was late--close on to dawn. The silvery half-moon hung low inthe west accompanied by great cohorts of stars that shone with abrilliancy she had never before seen, and which seemed to be waitingwith the moon to usher in the new dawn. All was silence and mystery--allearthly ties seemed severed. Under the cover of the night all thingsseemed equal. There were no high, no low, no eyes to see, no ears tohear, no towns, no cities, no conventions. All things that hold and bindus had slipped away into the shadows and she seemed to breathe again theprimeval freshness of life. 

She knew that she must decide between Dick and her family. Her fatherhad given her plainly to understand as much, and this she knew meant theloss of her fortune--the giving up of all for him. Her fatherthreatened, raged and fumed with the petulance of a spoiled child, hispaternal displeasure taking that uncompromising form of obstinacy withwhich the world has long been familiar. She was amazed at herself forbeing able to take his displeasure with so little concern; a thingwhich, had it occurred at home, would have caused her to pause andreflect and probably would have been the deciding factor in her life. Her removal from the old life and the glimpses of the new hadunconsciously wrought a change within her. She began to see things asthey really are when shorn of their glamour. The life she hitherto hadknown, she realized, was purely a superficial condition, not onlyforeign to the realities of things, but superfluous to man himself. Never had Captain Forest appeared so sane and her father so superficialas the hour in which she grasped that truth. It is not what the worldmakes of you, but what you make of yourself that counts, the beauteous, seductive night kept whispering to her. Why, then, if this be true, should the world about her appear so remote? It was not the actualworld--the world as it really is that she would be called upon to giveup, but merely the world of that particular set of men and women inwhich she hitherto had moved. 

The same earth rolled beneath her feet--the same stars that looked downupon her in the past still glittered in the heavens overhead--the samewinds that crept through the garden and sighed among the trees, waftingthe spicy, fragrant odors of the flowers into her face, were the samethat had fanned her cheek in the past. All things remained practicallythe same, only the people were different. But could the old interestsand friendships and associations compensate her for the loss of the manthat had come into her life to remain for the rest of her days whethershe chose to keep him or not? These new and perplexing questions she wasforced to ask herself for the first time, and she knew that there couldbe but one answer forthcoming. 

Love was knocking at the portals of her heart as it had never knockedbefore. It had come to her warm and living, deep and subtle andindefinable, leaving nothing to be said or desired. She saw clearlythat principle, as the world conceives it, was not involved. Affectionrecognizes no such principle--only virtuous longing and desire which isa principle in itself--the fulfillment of creation's grandest purpose;and it rested with her to accept this truth or pass it by. 

The chill of the early morning caused her to draw her wrap more closelyabout her shoulders. A deep sigh of relief escaped her as she glancedupwards once more for a last look at the paling stars. How satisfactoryit was to know even though the knowledge pained her!

She had entered the garden a girl, she returned to the house a woman, hugging her secret close to her heart. 

XXV

Success had crowned Juan Ramon's efforts. The pretty little _hacienda_of which he had dreamed so long was no longer a vision of the future, but a reality. It was actually in his possession, purchased with a partof the money he had received from Don Felipe for his work. It now onlyremained for the pretty Rosita to consent to become the mistress of theplace and he, Juan Ramon, would bid farewell to the old _Posada_ and thegaming-tables forever. This Juan naïvely promised himself as histhoughts dwelt upon the bright picture of domestic felicity which hisimagination conjured up before him. 

The attractive presence of Rosita was undoubtedly the source of thisinspiration which actually led him to believe in the possibility of thesudden and complete reformation of an inveterate gambler whose desirefor play was like the toper's insatiable thirst for liquor. And then, there was Captain Forest's horse. Juan had an idea regarding thatanimal. When everybody's attention was occupied with the festivitiesduring the night of the _fandango_, and he had succeeded in filling Joséwith the proper amount of _aguardiente_, he would slip quietly away withthe horse and conceal him at his _hacienda_. _Caramba!_ what ahorse--the like of which there was not in all Mexico! And Juan Ramon, the champion _vaquero_ of Chihuahua, was the man to ride him! And herolled and smoked innumerable _cigarillos_ as he sauntered about thegarden and corrals, or lounged in the _patio_, musing on these and manyother things. 

To say that Don Felipe was elated by what he had discovered but mildlydescribes his state of exultation. At last the woman who had ruined hislife was in his power. Not for years had he experienced such delicioustransports of rapture. How sweet a thing is revenge! He was like oneborn anew. The expression of melancholy faded from his countenance, hiseyes shone with renewed luster and he smiled upon all the world. Therewas no more escape for her than there had been for him when she sotreacherously thrust the knife into his heart. What he had discoveredwas different from anything his imagination had pictured in connectionwith her. Nothing could be more compromising, and the marvel of it wasthat she had been able to keep the facts concealed from the world solong. Only a woman could have done it, and only the cleverest of womenat that. No wonder she had danced in public. She had reason to!

Never had he dreamed that he would live to enjoy this hour. When hefirst imparted his information to Blanch, she refused to believe it; butthe proofs were too convincing to leave so much as the shadow of a doubtin her mind. How fortunate that he had discovered her secret at thistime; just before the _fandango_. What an opportunity to confront herwith the truth; force her to make a public confession of her guilt. Nothing could be more propitious for the execution of his plans; theannihilation of the woman who had wrecked his life. It was not enoughthat she should be exposed. She must be humiliated publicly as he hadbeen. 

He did not entirely reveal his plans to Blanch, knowing that the womanin her and her consideration for the Captain would cause her to shrinkfrom inflicting so cruel a revenge even upon a rival. He was far tooclever for that. So, without going into details concerning his plans, heled her to believe that, at a prearranged signal from her, he wouldconfront Chiquita personally and compel her to acknowledge the truthbefore himself and the Captain. Her nature revolted at that which DonFelipe told her, cried out for justice, for the exposure of theimpostor; nevertheless, she disliked a scene, and for the Captain'ssake, made Don Felipe promise to do nothing unless she gave the signal. 

One week hence and their scores would be even. The thought thrilled himas he paced the length of his room, his hands clasping and unclaspingnervously behind his back; his mind actively engaged in rehearsing theevents of the last few days which led to the discovery, and the detailsof the plan he had formulated, the carrying out of which was to bedeferred until that eventful evening when the principal families of thetown and neighborhood, her friends and acquaintances, would be gatheredtogether to witness her shame--the same as they had witnessed his. Herdisgrace would be far worse than his had been. She would be an outcast;for let a man transgress and the world may forgive him, but let a womanfall and she is damned forever so far as the world is concerned. Hewould make no mistake this time. He carefully weighed every detail ofhis plan, considered every eventuality that might arise. Subtle andresourceful though he knew her to be, there would be no loophole ofescape for her. 

It was almost too good to be true. He was beside himself. He talked andlaughed aloud repeatedly when alone, scarcely able to retain himself, sorapturously sweet was the thought of her humiliation. Suddenly a newthought flashed through his mind. He had sworn that he would killCaptain Forest--lay him dead at her feet; but that, thanks tocircumstances, would not now be necessary. The thought of killing a manin cold blood was not pleasant even to one of Don Felipe's temperamentin his present state of mind. But should circumstances compel him to doso to complete his revenge, he would stop at nothing, let theconsequences be what they might. 

That he had received his just deserts for his betrayal of a woman, didnot enter his thoughts. Had he not atoned for that misdeed through yearsof suffering? Had ever mortal been humiliated as he had been? That factalone decided him. The memory of his transgression had been effaced longsince by his intense longing for revenge. Nothing short of revenge couldsatisfy him now. 

A grim smile lit up his countenance as he pondered upon what he knew. And yet, he reflected, who could tell? Infatuation might blind theCaptain to the truth. It was best to be prepared for all emergencies. Stepping to his dresser, he opened the top drawer from which he took aknife which lay concealed beneath the numerous articles it contained. Drawing the blade from its leathern sheath, he ran his thumb lightlyover its double edge to assure himself that it had lost none of itskeenness. He always carried a pistol, but considering the circumstancesa knife would be better. It would make no noise, create lessdisturbance. It would be so easy, in some secluded part of the garden, to thrust it home and get away quietly before the deed was discovered. One quick thrust, a stifled cry, that would be all. As a youth he couldhave placed that blade at ten paces in the center of a mark no largerthan a silver dollar at every cast. But he had no thought of employingsuch a method now even if he were able to. Striking the Captain would belike sinking the blade in Chiquita's heart; for did he not hate theCaptain, because she loved him, almost as much as he hated her? No, hewould not forego that exquisite sense of pleasure and satisfaction, bornof jealousy and his insatiable thirst for revenge. 

For some time he toyed absently with the knife. Then, from sheerexuberance of spirits, he began tossing it aloft; watching withsparkling eyes the glittering blade as it turned over and over in theair and catching it deftly by the hilt in his right hand as itdescended. His hand and wrist were firm and supple as of old; they hadlost none of their vigor during the long years he had wandered aimlesslyabout the world. Again that cold smile, cruel and cutting as the edgeof his knife, lit up his face as he at length sheathed the blade in itsleathern case and returned it to its resting place in the drawer of hisdresser. 

XXVI

Conviction is one thing, decision another. Any one who has been taughtfrom earliest childhood to regard black as white could hardly beexpected to distinguish in a moment the virtue of the latter. 

Daily Bessie resolved to follow the promptings of her heart; usually atthe close of the day when the cool of the evening set in, when the starsagain took up their procession across the heavens and she walked andchatted with Dick in the garden. But when morning dawned and she thoughtof her father's awful prognostications and the dire consequences whichmust inevitably ensue should she take the step, her ardor cooled and sheas often changed her mind. Her father spent hours arguing with her, trying to impress her with the importance of the duty she owed societywhich consisted in obeying to the letter the behests of the set in whichshe had always moved. 

Greatly to the Colonel's astonishment and disgust, his daughter seemedstrangely lacking in this particular moral quality. How had her insightbecome so obtuse? He could not understand it, especially as he had takenparticular pains while bringing her up to steel her heart against theinsidious longings of maudlin sentiment and to teach her to despiseeverything outside of her particular world. He and his wife had notregarded love the chief essential to marriage, so why should hisdaughter? That she, under the circumstances, should hesitate betweenhappiness and a life of regret, was a thing unique, almostincomprehensible to him. That she should question his authority, hisright to choose for her, and his superior knowledge of the world, wasstill more surprising. Her disaffection was strongly suggestive ofdisrespect, a lack of faith in his infallibility in which he, theColonel, firmly believed, if nobody else did. 

The thought that the efforts of years might come to naught was bitter aswormwood to him. It was bad enough that his nephew should besmirch thefamily escutcheon, but that his daughter should deliberately contract amesalliance in the face of his objections, was too much. It was the laststraw. The country was going to the dogs. He argued, pleaded, stormedand swore and beat his head against the wall of indifference andobstinacy which his daughter reared between them with the unremittingfury of a wasp that finds itself on the wrong side of a windowpane. Thisnew turn in affairs rendered Mrs. Forest so furious that she snappedright and left regardless of persons like a dog possessed of the rabies, rendering herself the most disagreeable person in the house. 

The alarming rapidity with which event succeeded event, whirling themonward to some unseen end, was more than sufficient to convince them allthat life was fast becoming a very uncertain quantity. No one knew whatthe morrow might bring forth; and all, with the exception of theCaptain, were wrought up to a pitch of nervous tension that threatenedthe breaking point. Don Felipe shadowed Chiquita and theCaptain--Chiquita and Blanch regarded one another with increasingsuspicion--Dick pressed his suit with the ardor of desperation; whilethe Colonel and Mrs. Forest nagged on all sides. Even Señora wore ananxious, worried look. It was evident to all that things, as they were, could not continue much longer. Only the Captain seemed capable ofkeeping his head above water; for him the future held no terrors. Themore complicated matters became, the more serene he grew; for had he notvowed that he would see things through to the end? They would all havean opportunity of judging who it would be that would laugh last. 

The _fandango_ would relieve the tension. Blanch's inspiration was trulya stroke of genius, for anything was better than a continuance of thepresent state of affairs. Ever since Dick's declaration of love, Bessiehad fought and struggled against the tide of events which wasoverwhelming her by making herself as disagreeable as possible in hiseyes. But what could she do to thwart the machinations of a man wholaughed at her moods, who encouraged her with each fresh outburst?

Scarcely an hour elapsed after parting from him, than a note was slippedinto her hand by some one of the many Mexican attendants, telling herhow he adored her moods. That a frown from her was sweeter than theperpetual smile of another woman; that he loved a woman of spirit; thatshe would find him on the morrow in the dust at her feet as usual; thatthe sensation he experienced while being trampled upon could only belikened unto that of being borne aloft on wings, etc. She grew hot andcold by turns as she read these missives, and sulked and softened andflew into fits of passion, and tore them into bits, thoroughly disgustedwith her weakness and her inability to remedy matters, and invariablyended by wishing to see him again. Clearly, her only hope of deliverylay in the alternatives of instant flight, or of ridding herself of hisimportunities by marrying him; either of which she found equallydifficult and impossible to execute. She did not know that Dick wasputting on a bold front; that his attitude was assumed; that, like her, he was at his wits' end; that, if she suffered, he suffered tenfold. Herannoyance was insignificant in comparison to the cyclonic outbursts thatswept over him. 

Ah, yes, Anita, Concho's wife, had predicted events with fair accuracy. When he sought to take her, she was not there, but somewhereelse--everywhere. Just like a kitten that frisks among the leaves inautumn when they are whirled about by the wind; now here, now there, nowup a tree. Though each had taken the measure of the other with fairaccuracy, each had misjudged the other's strength; and it was becomingproblematical just how much longer he would be able to hold out. Nothinghad ever daunted him. All his life long he had never failed toaccomplish the things of real importance. No undertaking had ever provedtoo great. Colonel Yankton, his foster-father, had taught him the valueof perseverance, and he had learned his lesson well. He instinctivelyfelt that the great crisis of his life was at hand; that all hisefforts, his successes in life must count for naught so far as hepersonally was concerned, should he fail to win her. He knew that hisfate hung in the balance, that the morrow would practically decidewhether the one thing his life lacked would be added unto it, or that hewould go on to the end alone. 

He had gone for a stroll in the town after the customary gathering inthe _patio_ in the evening. The others had long since retired for thenight when he returned to the _Posada_. Feeling no inclination to sleep, he seated himself on the veranda in front of the house, and lighting afresh cigar, smoked and mused; his gaze fixed on the tall moonlit hedgewhich separated the _Posada_ from the highroad; his thoughts revertingto the days of his boyhood. Again he saw the Colonel, tall and erect, the personification of manhood, indomitable will and courage, seatedupon his horse at the head of his regiment, and heard the ringing, clarion notes of the bugle--the signal for the charge. Yes, he wouldmake one more supreme effort, and if that failed, well. .. . His cigar hadburned low. He tossed it over the veranda rail and rose with theintention of retiring, when his attention was arrested by the faintsound of a horse's hoofs on the highroad in the distance. Somethingseemed to tell him to wait, and acting on the impulse, he paused andlistened. The sounds drew nearer, increasing in volume as the animalapproached, until a horseman finally turned in from the road at an easycanter and drew rein before the _Posada_. Both man and horse werecovered with dust which shone white as snow in the moonlight; a proofthat they had traveled far during the day. 

"_Buenas noches_, Señor, " said the rider, a Mexican, swinging himselffrom the saddle and ascending the steps to where Dick stood. 

"Good evening, " replied the latter in Spanish, eyeing the man curiously. 

"I wish, " continued the stranger, "to speak with one Señor Yankton who, I was told, lives in Santa Fé. Perhaps, Señor, you can tell me where Imay find him?"

"I am Señor Yankton. What do you want?"

"Ah!" exclaimed the man, stepping back a pace and regarding Dickcritically. "Your appearance answers the description well, Señor, butthat is not enough--I must have proof. " Just then a _vaquero_ on nightduty who had been lounging in the deep shadow at the far end of theveranda came forward on hearing the sounds of voices. 

"Diego, " said Dick, addressing the latter, "tell this gentleman whetherI be Señor Yankton or not. He says he wishes to see him. "

"Of a truth, Señor, here is the man you seek, " answered Diego, addressing the stranger. 

"_Bueno_--good!" ejaculated the Mexican, pulling a sealed packet fromthe inner pocket of his jacket. "I come from the Rio Plata, six days'journey toward the west. I have been commissioned to deliver this toyou, Señor, " and he handed the packet to Dick who, taking it, gaveinstructions to Diego that the man and his horse be properly housed forthe night. Then, with an "_hasta la vista_, " and "God be with you untilthe morrow, Señor, " he retired to his room. There, by the dim light of acandle, he carefully scrutinized the address on the packet, but did notrecognize the writing. Nevertheless, he instinctively felt as he turnedit over in his hands before breaking the seal, that, in some manner orother, it was intimately concerned with his fate. 

XXVII

The preparations for the _fandango_ were complete. The men and women ofthe household, under Juan Ramon's supervision, had worked hard sincesunrise, stringing gayly colored lanterns and arranging tables andchairs, palms and potted flowers and shrubs in the _patio_. It was closeon to five o'clock and they now rested in the _patio_ in the shade ofits arcades, smoking cigarettes and sipping black coffee, and chattingand laughing as they viewed with satisfaction the results of theirhandiwork. The day gave promise of a perfect night. It was to be atypical Spanish _fiesta_, and in order that the illusion might becomplete, both the Whites and the Indians were to appear in theirnational costumes. All the leading Spanish families of the town and theneighborhood would be present. Not an invitation had been refused. 

Captain Forest had agreed to take tea with Blanch in the garden, and, true to his word, he appeared punctually, almost on the minute. Thepretty Rosita, the only one of the household excepting Señora Fernandezand Juan Ramon who understood and spoke English after a fashion, withdrew reluctantly after depositing her tray containing tea and_tortillas_ upon the table. She adored the beautiful _Americana_, andhad been doing a great deal of thinking of late. The reason for hercoming might not be Don Felipe at all, but Captain Forest, the grandSeñor. Who could say? The ways of the Americano, the _gringo_, were sodifferent from theirs. Everything they did was exactly opposite to theirway of thinking and doing things. No well-bred, unmarried Spanish womanwould dare take tea alone with a man unless they were engaged. 

The signs of autumn were visible on every hand. The long, languid, summer travail had ceased and the season of dreams begun. Though the skywas a clear steel-blue overhead, the horizon was veiled in a thin bluehaze into which the landscape and distant objects seemed to fade andlose themselves. Filmy threads of gossamer floated through the air, suffused with a soft golden glow. Most of the birds had ceased to singand the drone of insects became less persistent, as if fearful todisturb the hush and calm that pervaded the land. 

Captain Forest noticed, as he seated himself at the table oppositeBlanch, that the golden glow in her hair was almost a perfect match tothe shafts of sunlight which sifted down upon her through the branchesof the trees overhead. And he wondered at his resisting powers--why thespell of her fascination no longer held him as of old, not realizingthat his love for her had waned in the same proportion that he had grownbeyond her. The air of restraint which existed between them would havebeen apparent even to a stranger, but Blanch had decided to dissipatethis feeling if possible. She laughed and chatted as though entirely ather ease, as though nothing had ever come between them; making sarcasticremarks on the customs of the country; calling into requisition all theblandishments and fascinations which a woman of her intelligence andattraction was capable of exercising upon a man. Every word, every lookand gesture fell upon him like a caress. She flattered, cajoled andcontradicted him, employing that subtle, deceptive art of refinedcoquetry to which a sensitive nature like the Captain's was mostsusceptible. Nor were its effects lost upon him; they were soon both attheir ease. She was the old Blanch again; the girl and companion of hisyouth--the woman of yesterday. 

The struggle that was being fought out inch by inch between her andChiquita was drawing swiftly to its close, and must end as abruptly asit began. She had only begun to realize what the full significance oflove meant in the hour that she felt the loneliness occasioned by thelack of it. She had miscalculated. She thought she was stronger thanCaptain Forest, but could she have cared for him had he been a weakerman? It was his strength which she both loved and hated, and deep downin her heart she knew full well that, were he weaker than herself, shemust have ended by despising him. She, like Chiquita, was fighting forher life, her very existence so to speak; but of course he did notdivine the full significance of the struggle--what it meant to themboth; no man could. 

"Does the charm of this land still continue to hold you, Jack?" sheasked carelessly, passing him a cup of tea. 

"More than ever, " he answered, lighting a cigarette and wondering whatshe was leading up to. 

"Don't you think you have had about enough of it?" she continued, withjust a shade of sarcasm in her voice. "You have had a royal vacation andI'm glad you have enjoyed yourself so thoroughly, but, honestly, don'tyou think it's about time you were returning to your work again, to theworld to which you belong, of which you are a part and from which, inspite of all effort and argument, you cannot possibly separate yourself?You know, I never could take your idea seriously, Jack, " she added, withincreasing confidence, addressing him as one would a naughty child. Heonly smiled by way of reply, and quietly blew a ring of smoke into theair. 

"I see you are as obstinate and determined as ever, " she continuedrather petulantly. "Don't be overconfident though; you might fail, youknow, and failure is always discouraging--it involves such a waste oftime. "

"If I do, it will be the first time I have failed. " He was about tocontinue, but checked himself. They were getting on dangerous ground. She understood his inference and colored and smiled. For some timeneither spoke. A gold leaf, one of the first heralds of autumn, droppedsilently down from the bough overhead to the center of the table. Hetook another sip of tea. 

"Jack, " she said at length, raising her eyes from her hands in her lapwhere she toyed with her fan, "supposing a position were offered you, one quite worth your while, would you return? Not immediately, butlater on, when you have grown a little tired of playing at the game oflife? In six months, say--or even a year if you like?" Her wholeattitude and expression had changed, and a look of pleading andexpectancy shone from her eyes. Again he smiled. What was she drivingat? he asked himself. 

"I'm afraid it will be longer than that, Blanch, " he answered. "Besides, what position could possibly be open to me? You know, my name is struckfrom the lists. At least, it ought to be if it isn't. "

"Possibly, " she answered. "But, if you cared enough, there might beanother chance!"

"What do you mean?" he interrupted, regarding her curiously. In reply, she quietly drew an official document from her bosom and handed it tohim across the table without a word. He colored, and she saw that hishand trembled slightly, betraying the emotion he felt as he opened theenvelope and glanced hastily over its contents. "The Ministry toTurkey--Blanch!" he gasped, regarding her in astonishment. 

"Yes, " she answered nervously, watching closely the effect the news hadupon him. "I received it a week ago. The President knows how clever youare, Jack, and has promised to keep the position open for you if youwill consent to accept it. You know, he always had a warm place in hisheart for you. "

"Blanch!" he said again, overcome by emotion. And laying the documentdown upon the table in front of him he rose to his feet. 

"Turkey, Jack, is but a step to London, St. Petersburg, Berlin orParis, " she said softly, looking up at him and catching her breath inthe effort to conceal her excitement. "It is yours, Jack, if you wishit. Understand, " she resumed, lowering her gaze and running her slenderwhite hand slowly back and forth over the edge of her half-open fan, "that it is yours without reservation. You are under no obligations. Turkey and--I are two different things, " she added slowly and withdifficulty, without looking up; her neck and face turning a deepscarlet. She felt the intensity of his blazing eyes upon her. 

"Blanch!" he cried, and this time there was a note of anger in hisvoice. "Don't think me ungrateful, I beg of you. I appreciate what youhave done, and I thank you with my whole heart, but--I can't do it, Blanch!"

"Jack!" she cried, throwing off the mask and springing to her feet. "Ican't stand it any longer! I can't see you wreck your life in this way!Can't you see the folly you are committing? Don't think me presumptuous;that I am trying to meddle, interfere in your life. I am merely tryingto save you from yourself! It's your last chance, Jack. Go back againand never mind me; I've nothing to do with it! I can easily understandhow this life can have a certain fascination for you, but only for atime; it can't last. The more I see of it, the more I'm convinced thatI'm right. What's the use of mincing words, fencing about the truth anylonger? I understand--I've seen it from the first. It's not this life, but the woman that holds you!" she cried abruptly and passionately, almost fiercely, betraying her jealousy. 

"Don't wreck your life and happiness before it is too late. You musttire of her as inevitably as you will tire of this life, and what then?Can't you see that, when you have exhausted the glamour, and thefascination of things is gone, she would no longer be a companion toyou? The difference between you--your lives, your world and hers, is toogreat. It is insurmountable--impassable! What can she know of the worldwhich you and I know, to which you belong? Of another race, anotherblood, she must ever remain an alien, a thing apart from yourself; therecan never be a true affinity between you. She is a savage--an aboriginesprung from the soil. The tinsel and veneer of civilization which shehas acquired doesn't change her and can't endure. She is still a savagein spite of it, the product of savage ancestry living close to the soil. The simplicity and glamour and freedom of this life casts a spell overone and attracts one of your adventurous nature, sated with thepleasures and luxuries of our world, but will the spell last? Once youhave exhausted the simple, elemental joys of such a life, it must becomeirksome, mere animal existence, unbearable, positive boredom to you. That in her which attracts you now must inevitably become commonplace intime and repel you. You could not endure that, Jack; you who are evolvedthrough thousands of generations from a higher, superior race. Yourreason and instinct must tell you that. 

"Jack!" she cried in a fresh outburst, "we were made for one another!How can she, an Indian, the product of savagery, understand you who areof a different race, the product of civilization? Your soul can neverfind the full response in hers that it can in mine. I know I wasfoolish--call it willful rather than foolish--the instinct that is bornin me to command. I should not have let you go. I should have consentedto share the life you proposed, but I did not believe you were inearnest; I did not think it would last. Besides, how could you haveexpected me to understand? It was too much; you had no right to ask itof me then. I thought, of course, you would come back to me again, Jack;I waited for that. Can't you understand? But you didn't come back, and Irepented of my mistake a thousand times. We all make mistakes, Jack!"

His manhood revolted against being compelled to listen to herconfession, her pleading. It was undignified, cowardly. It disgusted himand he hated himself for it, but what could he do?

"Don't say that, Blanch, " he answered gently. "It is I who should askforgiveness. I know it was too much to ask you to share such a life withme, but I did not realize it at the time. I wronged you, I know. I wouldgladly make reparation if I knew how. "

"Oh! none of that virtuous, good-humored acquiescence, Jack! I want youto forget everything, all but the days before it happened, when youloved me--when you swore that your love was as constant as the stars!Have you forgotten your oath? To be true to yourself, Jack, you mustforget!" She paused. It was the first frank utterance she had made sinceher coming; and, for the time being, she seemed to have forgotten herresentment toward him. 

"I have not changed, Jack, " she went on. "I am the same as then; I onlydid not understand you. How could I have guessed that which lay buriedwithin you, those latent ideals and conceptions of life which youyourself were ignorant of? But I understand you now, Jack. It was thefoolish conceit of the girl's heart that caused me to forget what I owedyou; but now it is the woman who speaks, who bares her soul to you, brimming full of love and passion and tenderness for the man she lovesand longs to protect--the woman who loves as the girl could never haveloved, Jack. "

The light that shone from her eyes bespoke the voice of her conscience;told him that she at least spoke the truth. Never had she appeared morebeautiful, more fascinating and alluring than at this moment, as shestood before him, flushed and radiant and trembling with passion, confused and indignant and ashamed; the woman rebelling within her atbeing thus forced to lay bare her soul, make confession before the manshe loved. It was cruel and he knew it. Her words were likeknife-thrusts at his heart, filling his soul to its depths with sympathyand compassion for her, and bitterness and loathing for himself. 

The vision of yesterday with its gay scenes which he had cast aside, rose before him again. Its seductive allurements swept over him withredoubled force like a great compelling wave, filled with music andlight and laughter, the false, seductive charms of which their presentsurroundings knew naught. The magic of her voice, her face, her touchhad lost none of its charm. He felt her fascination still, in spite ofhimself and the bitterness of former days which he had cherished in hisheart against her. The lure of the old life was strong upon him. Hefelt the hot blood rush to his face and heart; his being surged. She hadbeen a part of his life, they had grown up together, and do what hewould, her presence brought him face to face again with certainrealities, with the old life which he thought was dead but which was notyet buried. When he looked upon her, he heard the old familiar sounds ofthe sea, of music and siren-voices of civilizations in theirdecay--breathed again the intoxicating atmosphere of that exotic, voluptuous, sensuous existence in which he had been reared and hadlived, and with which he was saturated and from which he was striving toescape. But when he thought of Chiquita, he heard the murmur of forestsand waters and saw the broad expanse of the plains and the wild cragsand peaks that rear their heads heavenward, above which the eagles soar. Nature beckoned with widespread arms to her child to come--the manhoodwithin him cried for release, for the recognition of the individual'sright to self-assertion. 

Poets have sung of the raptures of first love, but was Blanch really hisfirst love? The true first love is only that man or woman who can causeone to forget oneself. Somewhere deep down in our souls there's asomething which sleeps until that hour when it suddenly bursts intoflame, as it were, and the new man is born within us; and this is whathad happened to him, though all unknown to himself, at the time when hefirst beheld Chiquita riding alone in the hills. In an instant his soulwas aflame. He thrilled at the sight of her as she turned and rode awayin the dusk, and felt like crying out to her to stop; that she was his, that she had been his from the beginning of time and he likewise hers;that he had been searching for her down the ages and had found her atlast. All this and much more flashed through his mind as he gazed uponthe beautiful vision of Blanch before him and felt the charm of herpresence slowly creeping over him and fastening itself upon him in spiteof his resistance like the subtle, mysterious influence of music or richold wine. 

For some time he seemed uncertain how to act or what to say. She notedit. His hesitation inspired her with fresh courage, causing her face andeyes to shine with the radiance of hope, dazzlingly beautiful. Herbreath came quick and fast as she drew nearer to him and then seemed tocease altogether as she waited for his answer. All this he too noticed, and felt himself weakening under her spell. The suspense was as terriblefor him as for her. A thousand memories rose from out the past and beganpulling at his heart-strings. Inch by inch he felt himself slowlyslipping back into the old life again, like a boat that has slipped hermoorings and glides silently and almost imperceptibly out into theeasy-flowing current. The struggle grew more intense within him as theminutes passed. Great beads of perspiration broke out upon his brow ashe listened to those voices whose sweetness and intensity increased withhis hesitancy--those voices beneath whose charm and spell the strongestmen have succumbed in the past. 

"Blanch, " he said at last, hoarsely and almost in a whisper, "it takes abetter man than I to say 'no' to you, and I don't say it. But I havechanged. " The mere fact of speaking and the sound of his voice seemedto recall him to himself, to the realization of where he was and what hewas doing. He felt that he was still master of himself and hisconfidence slowly returned. "I know you can't understand, " he continued. "But somehow, I seem to have grown beyond you. "

"Jack, " she said, drawing still closer and laying her hand upon his armand looking up into his face, "I know you have had more experience thanI have had, but don't imagine that you have grown beyond me. Your ideashave caused me to think. I, too, have grown since we last parted. If youcan give up the world, so can I. If you will not return again to theworld with me, I'll remain here with you. I'll do anything you say!" shecried in passionate surrender. "My body is soft perhaps in comparison tohers, but I'm strong. I'll soon be as strong as you or she and be allthe more to you, infinitely more to you than she can ever be. I know Idid you a great wrong in the past, Jack, but let me make up for it now. It is my privilege, my debt to you, and your duty to let me do it. Youhave no right to break your promise to me, Jack. You can't. Your manhoodmust tell you that it is as sacred now as the day you gave it to me, andI hold you to it. I'll show you a love you have never known--can neverknow without me!" She drew still closer, laying her other hand upon hisshoulder caressingly; her arm almost encircling his neck. He felt herwarm, fragrant breath upon his lips and the thrilling, magnetic touch ofher body, vibrating and pulsating with passion and emotion. How soft andvoluptuous and tempting and alluring that body and presence were! Itwas as though the spices and perfumes and sunshine of far away, mythicalCathay had suddenly descended upon him and enveloped him. 

"Jack, " she continued, "we have always been comrades, pals; we were madefor one another! We are one in thought now as much as we ever were--morethan we ever have been!"

He knew this to be false; that he possessed a grip on life which she didnot; that he had passed far beyond her since they had last parted. Shehad had her opportunity and had thrown it away. It was too late. Shecould not follow him now, she had missed the psychological moment. Evenhad she cast her lot with his in the beginning, he knew that she nevercould have followed him. She was immeshed; her feet were caught in thenet. The blandishments of life had taken too deep root in her soul forher to cast them forth as he had done. And yet his conscience smote himfor her sake, for what she suffered, that she was thus forced tohumiliate herself before him. Sentiment and old memories surged upwithin him and urged him to keep her. What, after all, did it matterwhere or how they lived? The world would go on its way the same as ithad always done; it didn't wish to be reformed and wasn't worthreforming. 

"Take her! take her!" cried those voices more persistently than ever. "Don't be a fool and miss this opportunity which, once gone, shall passout of your life forever. She's as beautiful and as brilliant as theother woman; one of your own race and, after all, will wear as well. Besides, you know her and you don't know the other woman, and ifdisappointed in the latter--what then? Take her!"

The vision of Glaire's wonderful conception, "The Lost Illusions, " rosebefore him. He saw again that exquisite figure of the Egyptian, strongand sensitive, in the prime of manhood, seated upon the shore of theNile, watching the bark of destiny laden with the fair illusions ofyouth, draw slowly away from him and grow fainter and fainter in thesoft, mellow light of age, as it floated away on the evening tide oflife. He, too, stood in the prime of manhood. Was this to be his end, mocked and laughed at by fate--the price he must pay for daring to lifthis eyes from the dust to the stars to fulfill the dream of the ages?God knew how he had fought against the invisible power that had drivenhim on step by step to his present state. He looked down into thebeautiful upturned face of the woman before him whom he had known solong, whom he had loved and adored; gazed deep into those soft, azureeyes, limpid as two crystal pools, saw those full red upturned lipswaiting to be kissed--kissed. Again her lips parted. 

"Jack, Jack, Sweetheart, I'm waiting--" she murmured softly, encirclinghis neck completely with her arm and drawing his face gently down to herown. Just then the rhythmic silvery whir of wings caused them to lookupward. Through the boughs of the tree they saw the indistinct form of awhite dove that fluttered overhead for an instant and then was gone. Atthe same moment Captain Forest distinctly recognized the scent ofCastilian roses, as though their fragrance had been wafted full in hisface by a breeze, and yet there was no breeze, nor were there any rosesclose at hand; the season of roses had passed. 

No man could have resisted for long the fascinations of a woman likeBlanch Lennox if she chose to make love to him. It was the sound ofthose wings and the fragrance of the roses that upheld Captain Forest'sresolution; especially the fragrance of the roses. Whence it came or howit originated, who could say? For it came and passed like a mere breath. Perhaps the invisible angel who, it is said, presides over the destinyof the individual, caused it; for with it flashed the vision of Chiquitabefore his eyes as he had seen her on that day in the garden among theroses and had silently watched her from the back of his horse andbreathed deep drafts of the flowery fragrance. The same subtle, invisible something that has changed the destiny of individuals and ofnations through all the ages, caused him to remember, recalled him tohimself. The manhood surged up within him, asserting its supremacy, andhe drew himself up with a sudden impulse. She noted the change, and in afierce, passionate voice, almost of terror, cried: "Jack, you are mine, you have always been mine! I will not give you up--I claim my own!" andshe flung her arms passionately about his neck in an endeavor to drawhis lips down to her own. 

"I can't--I can't do it, Blanch!" he said, and shook himself free. Witha cry, terrible in its intensity and despair, she sank across thetable. 

XXVIII

Pale and trembling and humiliated, Blanch pulled herself together withan effort and stood for some time as one dazed where the Captain hadleft her. Then, she remembered, she had smiled and bowed absently to themen and women in the _patio_ on the way back to her room, where sheflung herself down upon the couch in a frenzy, burying her face in thecushions; her frame shaking with passionate, convulsive sobs as shewrithed in paroxysms of untold grief and pain. 

He had refused her, dared to refuse her--her! She had failed! Was this, then, the end, the reward for righteous ambition, conscientiousendeavor? For years she had worked and schemed for the realization ofher ideal, and this was the end. How proud she always had been of him, and how perfectly her beauty and brilliancy would have crowned hiscareer--their lives! And now, when ambition's goal was attained, thatrare cup of earthly joys of which few men drink, had been rudely dashedfrom her lips. 

So this was the reward that had been reserved for her who had beenendowed with wealth and position, and who was the fairest and best thiscivilization could produce? Fate had been kind to her merely in orderthat she might realize to the utmost the bitterness and emptiness oflife. 

Life--what did it mean, what did it hold for her now? She knew as wellas Captain Forest did that, strong though she was, she was neverthelesstoo weak to share with him the life he had chosen. Civilization andculture had prepared her for everything but that; the one vitalessential which nature alone can give to man was lacking. After all shewas but a poor, helpless creature, incapable of meeting and beingsatisfied with the simple demands occasioned by the natural conditionsof man's surroundings. Neither could she return to the old life again, now that it was shorn of its vital interest, and year after year casther bread upon the waters in the uncertain pursuit of happiness, only toreap the harvest of dead-sea fruit that is ever borne in on the shallowtides of worldliness. 

She recognized in herself the victim of a system of lies and frauds, aworld of artificiality, deceit and tawdry tinsel, a life which, in spiteof the good it contains, makes weaklings of men. Thanks to herbringing-up, the sunland of love, that valley of the earthly paradise, was closed to her forever. She cursed this world of hypocrisy anddeception and all it contained--her friends and acquaintances and thememory of her father and mother, who unabashed, had perverted the pure, unsullied gaze of the child, directed its steps in the paths trodden byits degenerate forefathers, taught it to regard falsehood in the lightof truth. 

Let the world cry out in protest--say they did their best. The worldlies, and knows it lies. They did not do their best. They followed thedictates of selfishness, despicable, inherent weakness. But why hadthis come to her who had been a willing instrument, who had lentherself to the dictates of this world and who, of all others, was themost fit to grace it?

"I curse you--curse you!" she cried aloud, springing to her feet in afresh paroxysm and frenzy, flinging her clenched hands aloft, herfeatures livid with rage. But what did her mingled transports of griefand pain and anger avail her? There was no redress, no appeal from thedecision of destiny. It was fate, and she had been singled out for thesacrifice. Again she cried out in agony of heart and soul. Had she beenstrong like the other woman, he must have loved her--his love nevercould have died!

The thought of Chiquita brought her to herself in a measure, and as sheslowly began to pace the floor, Don Felipe's words came back to her. Ifshe did not possess Jack, no other woman should. Besides, she knew whathe did not know--that even if he wished to, he could not marry Chiquita. A grim smile flitted across her countenance as the knowledge of thisfact flashed through her mind, the only ray of light in the chaos intowhich she had been plunged by that misguided, luckless decision on herpart--her refusal to follow the Captain while he was still hers. 

She knew it was purely revenge that had prompted Don Felipe to run herrival's secret to earth, and she despised him for it. It was not so withher--the thought of revenge had not entered into her calculations. Butneither Chiquita nor the Captain would escape. It was justice, nothingmore nor less; for they, too, like her, stood before the tribunal ofdestiny and must bow to its decrees the same as she had been forced tobow to them. Yes, she would give the signal to Don Felipe that night; itwas the only right thing to do. 

She was calmer now, and when Rosita knocked lightly at her door andentered the room to assist her in dressing for the evening, no one wouldhave suspected the ache at her heart or the storm-swept soul which hercalm exterior concealed. 

XXIX

Padre Antonio sat before the open window in his living-room in a large, comfortable chair, enjoying the beauty of the evening and the fragranceof the last flowers in the garden, waiting for Chiquita to complete hertoilet. 

It was one of those soft, balmy autumnal evenings, and gave promise of anight of majesty and serenity when the moon rose in her full glory tohold her silent watch over the earth once more. It was sweet to live onsuch a day as this, when all the world seemed at peace; and what aperfect night for the _fandango_. Presently the sound of light footstepsand the soft rustle of a dress interrupted the train of his thoughts, causing him to turn from the window to Chiquita, who, attired in herball dress, entered the room and paused before him. 

There was not an inharmonious touch in her attire of soft creamy satinand lace, richly embroidered with golden flowers. Delicate filmy threadsof gold intersected the heavy white Valenciennes lace mantilla attachedto her high silver comb, etched in gold and studded with diminutivediamonds, which sparkled in the light like dew in the sunshine. Herwhite satin slippers and silk stockings, like her corsage and _saya_, were also delicately worked in gold. A sheaf of golden poppies adornedone side of her head, nestling close down upon her neck and shoulder inthe folds of her jet black hair. She presented a truly strikingappearance, and Padre Antonio gazed long and silently at her, his keeneyes scanning her critically from head to foot in an effort to detect afault. 

How he loved his little girl! It almost seemed as though she wereendowed with something more than earthly beauty. In her the strength andgrace of the deer and panther were blended with the ethereal delicacyand beauty of the flower. But it was her face that bespoke the luminousnature of the soul which dwelt within her. So close was the bond ofsympathy and mutual understanding between them, that she instinctivelyhalf divined his thoughts and it gave her courage. 

"Will I do, Padre _mio_?" she asked with a slight hesitancy, smiling andlooking down at him inquiringly. The question was so characteristic ofher that he could only smile in response. 

"Chiquita _mia_--there's one thing lacking, " he said at length, thefar-away, dreamy look fading from his eyes. 

"Something lacking?" she repeated in surprise, turning and casting aninvoluntary glance at the small mirror on the wall opposite in a vaineffort to catch a full view of herself. 

"Yes, Señorita, " he answered knowingly, almost mysteriously. "But it'snot your fault. It sometimes takes the discerning eye of a man toperceive what a woman's toilet lacks. "

What can it be, she asked herself, looking wonderingly and inquiringlyup into his face, and then turning to follow him with her gaze as, without further comment, he left the room and slowly ascended the stairsto his study on the floor above. He paused for an instant on enteringthe room, then walked straight to his desk at the other end; a largeupright piece of furniture of ancient pine made in the mission style andstained dark to represent oak, which, owing to its age, it closelyresembled. Pulling out the middle drawer, he pushed back a secret panelon the inside, disclosing an opening in the back of the desk from whichhe drew a small sandalwood box which, on being opened, contained asilver casket, richly chased and of an antique design. 

Years had elapsed since he last looked upon it, and he regarded itcuriously for some moments as he held it in his hands. Then setting itdown upon the desk, he turned the small key which unlocked it and raisedthe lid, disclosing its contents, which consisted of a fan, a braceletof six strands of large pearls with a diamond clasp in the shape of acrown, and a long, magnificent necklace of still larger pearls, alsocomposed of six strands, like the bracelet, and a large diamond slidealso in the shape of a crown. The fan was one of those exquisite, daintily hand-painted French creations of ivory, lace and vellum of acentury gone by. On one of the outer ribs was also a small diamond crownand on the other was traced a name in letters of gold. A delicatefragrance like that of withered rose leaves escaped the casket, and, ashe silently contemplated its contents, his gaze fell upon the name onthe fan--Chiquita Pia Maria Roxan Concepcion Salvatore--the name wasmuch longer, but his eyes dimmed--he could read no further. 

Instinctively he raised the casket with both hands and was in the act ofpressing his lips to its contents, when he caught sight of a crucifix onthe desk in front of him, causing him to pause, cross himself reverentlyand lower the casket again. 

[Illustration: "Instinctively he raised the casket with both hands. "]

Who was Padre Antonio? Involuntarily his thoughts traveled back over thestream of years when, as a youth of twenty, he bade farewell to oldSpain forever and with a heavy heart set forth alone to find God andpeace in the wilderness of the new world. Fifty years had passed sincethen and with them, the secret and tragedy of his life lay buried. 

He heaved a deep sigh and, picking up the casket, turned toward thedoor. Chiquita listened to the sound of his footsteps as he slowlydescended the stairs, and gazed in wonderment at the casket he held inhis hand when he reëntered the room. Without a word, he deposited itupon the table in the center of the room and, raising the lid, displayedits contents to the dazzled eyes of his ward. Never had she beheld suchwonderful jewels--what did it mean?

"Padre _mio_!" she gasped, her eyes wandering questioningly from thecasket to his face, which appeared a little paler than when he left theroom but a few minutes before. 

"I never imagined that another woman would ever be created worthy towear them, " he said quietly, picking up the bracelet and fastening itabout her left wrist, and winding the necklace twice round her throat, the ends falling down over her bosom to her waist. "May God's blessingforever rest upon you, my child, " he added, making the sign of the crossabove her, and stooping, he kissed her lightly on the forehead. 

Involuntarily her hand went out for the fan, and as her eyes fell on thename upon it, her woman's instinct told her all. 

"Padre--Padre _mio_!" she cried, and throwing her arms about his neck, burst into a passionate flood of tears on his breast. 

"There, there, my child!" he said at last, regaining his accustomedcomposure. "I now know why I was never able to part with them--not evento the Church. I was keeping them for you. "

"But I'm not worthy to wear them, Padre!" she exclaimed. 

"Tut, tut!" he replied. "The ways of God are past all understanding. When I think of how you came to me unsought and unbidden, and now, howCaptain Forest of a different race--"

"Oh, Padre, do you think I stand a chance of winning him?" sheinterrupted, looking inquiringly up into his face as if to read theanswer there. 

"Ah! that is a difficult question, my child. Love and intrigue are suchuncertain quantities to deal with, you know. Yet it seems strange thathe should have come into your life at this juncture. Captain Forest, " hewent on after a pause, "is a great man. As you know, we have talked muchtogether of late on that most interesting of all topics--life. And itseems to me that if ever God had plainly indicated his wish, you havebeen reserved for one another to perform his will. Of course, I can notsay this for a certainty, but it appears so to me, and to see your handsand hearts joined together will be the crowning joy of my life--"Suddenly his left hand went to his heart, where he experienced a sharppain. A dizziness seized him, causing him to lean heavily upon her forsupport. 

"Padre _mio_--what is it?" she cried in alarm. "You are not well! We'llnot go to the _fiesta_ to-night--'tis better we remain at home!"

"It's nothing--nothing, my child, " he answered, after the dizziness hadpassed. "It's only a slight attack of indigestion, like the one I hadlast summer while engaged in the mission work. You know, " he addedlightly, "I'm no longer as young as I was--such things must beexpected. " All day long she had experienced a dread of impendingdisaster which she could not shake off, and which she naturallyconnected with Don Felipe. But why go to the _Posada_ that evening ifPadre Antonio was not feeling well--there would be other days. 

Again she protested and urged him to remain at home, but in vain--hewould not hear of it. 

"It will do me good to go, " he said, helping her on with her long whitesilk Spanish mantle, embroidered with gold and lace to match her dress. Then, drawing on his black silk gloves, he picked up his hat and stick, and they passed out into the garden and through the tall iron gate, turning their steps in the direction of the _Posada_. 

XXX

The garden and _patio_ of the _Posada_ were hung with many lanternswhose light, in addition to that of the stars and the full moon, madethem appear as bright as day. 

Mrs. Forest maintained a frigid attitude toward the world throughout theevening. Inwardly she longed to be gay like the others, but prudery andshort-sightedness, the fruits of her training, prevailed, effectuallydebarring her from all enjoyment and leaving her cold and isolated likeone afflicted with the plague. Could she have followed the dictates ofher wishes, she would have remained within the seclusion of her roomduring the entire evening, but not being able to reconcile such a coursewith the duties of a chaperon, she was obliged to appear. If _noblesseoblige_ demanded that she should sacrifice herself, suffer the martyredisolation of patience on a monument, then be it so!

As for Colonel Van Ashton, he had suffered long enough. He secretlydespised his sister's prudery though he dared not acknowledge it. Anything to break the infernal monotony! He welcomed this occasion ofmild revelry with sensations akin to those of a boy's during the adventof a circus in his town. Of all the State and grand social functions inwhich he had participated, not one, so far as he could remember, hadever inspired him with such anticipations. An indescribable joy andspirit of recklessness, born of desperation, filled him, and he silentlyvowed that he would drink to the moon that night even though there mightperchance be blood upon it. 

Owing to the attack of dizziness which had occasioned a slight delay, Padre Antonio and his ward were the last of the guests to arrive. Lowmurmurs and suppressed exclamations escaped the Spanish element of theassembly as Chiquita entered the _patio_ on the padre's arm. If they hadbeen enraptured by the beauty of Blanch and Bessie and loud in theirpraises of their jewels and exquisite gowns, they were crushed byChiquita's appearance, clad as she was in white and gold, a dress theyhad never seen before, and adorned with jewels, the magnificence ofwhich they had not dreamed. 

At last the mystery of the golden _pesos_ was solved--the jewels ofcourse! A great weight slipped from the souls of the Spanish women asthey gazed in envy and amazement upon the person they hated most in allthe world. 

Happy, blissful ignorance--thrice blessed by the gods were they! Thosegolden _pesos_ would not have purchased a single strand in her bracelet, while as to the necklace, its value would have purchased the entire_Posada_ and many broad acres besides. Don Felipe and the Americans hadseen such jewels before in the world of fashion, but how came Chiquitaby them? Who was she? Blanch and Bessie began asking themselves. Thatshe had timed her entrance well, all admitted; though in reality she hadthought nothing about it--chance had favored her, that was all. Interesting though the subject under discussion had become, there waslittle time left the company for further speculation before Juan Ramon, the major-domo, announced supper. 

The musicians struck up a lively Spanish air. The night was mild andsoft, the stars and moon glittered overhead, the wine flowed and thesounds of laughter and gay, merry voices echoed throughout the _patio_. The company sat long at the tables, tempted by innumerable dainties, andencouraged and soothed by the wine, the night and soft strains of music. Not even in the old days had the _Posada_ witnessed a gayer scene. Indeed, for the time being, they had returned like a far-off echo ofthose times when Doña Fernandez reigned supreme in her beauty and menadmired and flattered and paid homage to her. Little wonder she sighedin the midst of the gayety and alternately flushed and paled as herthoughts traveled back over the years. 

Don Felipe was in an exultant mood. That morning his horse had stumbledand later, while dressing for the evening, a bat flitted in and out ofhis room through the open window. The fact that these two signs of illomen did not affect a mind ordinarily subject to the influence ofsuperstition, showed the state of his confidence. He drank freely of thewine and laughed and talked incessantly. What an opportunity to springthe trap he had laid for Chiquita!

"If Captain Forest proposes to her to-night, she'll never lift her eyesto the world again, " he whispered to Blanch beside whom he sat. 

"What do you propose doing?" she asked. 

"Have patience, " he answered, his face lighting up with an expression ofmalicious joy. "Of course, it all depends whether you give the signal ornot. "

"I came here with the intention of doing so, " she confessed. "Buteverybody seems so happy. Why not let the evening pass pleasantly? Itwould be a pity to mar its harmony. "

"Mere sentiment!" he replied. "Do you think she would show you suchconsideration? I assure you, to-night is the time of all times!" Therewas something so malicious, so weird in his tone and manner that sheshuddered as she listened to his words. In spite of her humiliation, herbitterness and suffering, and her desire for retribution, she neverrealized that one could find such sweet satisfaction in revenge as didDon Felipe. The prospect of it filled him with a joy that seemed almostdevilish at times. 

At length the tables were cleared, and coffee, liqueurs, cigars andcigarettes served, Blanch and Bessie, like the Spanish women, indulgingin the latter. In fact, everybody, with the exception of Mrs. Forest, smoked. The musicians were ranged in a semicircle across the upper endof the _patio_ opposite the garden and continued to render national andSpanish airs upon their instruments while the company smoked and sippedcoffee and liqueurs. And by the time the men had finished their firstcigars, the different artists, dancers and singers, who had been engagedfor the occasion, came forward and began to display their talent, adding to the novelty and gayety of the evening. Considering the timeand the place, they did well enough in their way and were quitepicturesque and pleasing as a whole, but at no time did theirperformance rise above the level of mediocrity, such as one wasaccustomed to see anywhere in the world on the vaudeville stage. At theend of an hour, Blanch felt that the moment had arrived to ask Chiquitato dance. So, without imparting her intention to any one, she rose fromher chair and walked over to where Chiquita sat conversing with theCaptain and Don Agusto Revera, Alcalde of Santa Fé. 

"We have heard so much about your dancing, Señorita, " she began, interrupting the conversation. "Won't you favor us with a danceto-night?"

"A dance?" repeated Chiquita with a little start of surprise, therequest coming from Blanch was so unexpected. She seemed confused, andher face wore a troubled look. "I would rather not, " she said at length, glancing nervously about her at the company. She had heard the cruelthings that had been said of her of late and knew how ready thosepresent would be to criticize her anew. 

"Do dance, Señorita; just to please me, if for nothing else, " persistedBlanch. 

"To please you?" repeated Chiquita. A peculiar light came into her eyesand she smiled as though pleased by the request. 

"I hope I'm not asking too much?" continued Blanch. Again Chiquitasmiled. 

"Do you know, " she answered with warmth, "there's only one thing in thisworld I wouldn't do for you?" and she laughed lightly, nervously openingand closing her fan the while. Again she glanced around at the company, wavering between assent and refusal. In the faces of the women she readthe jealousy and envy which filled their hearts toward her, and it wasperhaps that, not Blanch's request, which decided her to dance. 

"Yes, Señorita, " she said at length. "I'll dance for you this night--foryou only!" she repeated with emphasis. Yes, she would dance as she hadnever danced before; for would not the most critical eye in the world bewatching her? It was worth while. Blanch gave a little laugh as shereturned to her seat by the side of Don Felipe. 

Ah! the wiles of woman--subtle and illusive as a breath or a shadow--theone thing her own sex fears most! Blanch knew that if there was a commonstreak in her rival, it would be brought out in the glaring reality ofthe dance, and the Captain should see it. She knew he could never marryany one but a lady, and this was her reason for asking Chiquita todance. She had in mind, of course, the performances she had justwitnessed, or, to be more exact, the contortions of the ballet and themodern music-hall artist with which we are all so familiar; the inanebalancing and pirouetting on the toes, the heavy hip and protrudingstomach, quivering breasts and bellowing and frothing at the mouth, andcolored light effects and _risque_ posing in scant attire, coupled witha display of attractive lingerie. But Blanch forgot, or rather did notknow, that she had to do with genius over whose individuality most menare prone to trip. 

Chiquita's conception of plastic art was something different from vulgarSalome creations and the cheap spring-song and lolling and capering ofthe fatted calf just alluded to. Had Don Felipe cherished a ray of hopeof reinstating himself in Chiquita's eyes, he would have done all in hispower to prevent her dancing, but, as matters stood, he welcomed it withenthusiasm, for he knew that she would be irresistible--that CaptainForest would be ravished by her enchanting creation and alluring beautyas she glided through the intricate mazes of the dance in the moonlight. He had felt that spell, and knew its irresistible charm. 

The announcement that Chiquita was going to dance caused a stir amongthe company. A large dark blue Indian rug which shone black in themoonlight, was brought from the living-room of the house by the servantsand spread out upon the _patio's_ pavement. A murmur of approbationarose from the Mexicans when the first bars of music announced the danceshe had chosen. It was the famous "Andalusia"--the most difficult andintricate of all Spanish-Moorish dances; the one in which few dancershave ever excelled for the reason that its beauty lies not so much inits intricacy of form as in the poetic conception and freeinterpretation of the artist. Besides, the dance called for two parts, obliging her to execute the part of her supposed partner as well. Thedance opened with the song of a Torero who had repaired in the dusk tothe hills overlooking Granada where dwelt his sweetheart. 

With a coquettish little laugh and toss of the head, she tossed her fanto Captain Forest who caught it and held it in his hand as he would aflower. Then, after some words of direction to the musicians, shestepped upon the end of the rug nearest them, and to the amazement ofthe Americans, lightly kicked off her slippers, displaying a pair ofsmall, slender, exquisitely formed feet and ankles. Only amateurs havethe courage to dance in shoes. Even that strict and stilted institution, the ballet, was forced generations ago to break through its time-honoredtraditions by abandoning heels as useless appendages. Had she been onthe stage, she would have danced in her bare feet as she had done on thenight of the _fiesta_ when Captain Forest had seen her. 

A smile rested on her face and she nodded her head lightly to the timeof the music as she stood erect in the full flood of moonlight, tall andslender as a lily. 

"Thy face, Sweetheart, haunts me amid the dust and glare of the arena!"she began in her deep rich contralto voice, at the first notes of whicheverybody sat up straight and listened to the volume of swelling soundswhich filled the court and garden and floated away on the night. Therewas no mistaking the fact, they were in the presence of an artist. 

"I await thee, Beloved, in the hills, in the hour of our tryst!" camethe far-away answer of the woman's voice, faint and plaintive as anecho, soft and sweet and clear as the notes of the skylark, falling insilvery, rippling cadences of melody from out the gold, blue vault ofheaven above. 

 "Nearer and nearer love guideth our steps, On the hills we shall dance, chant our song of Delight 'neath the silvery stars and the Mellow gold horn of the soft shining moon. 

"'Neath the silvery stars, and the mellow gold horn of the soft shiningmoon, " echoed the musical refrain and chorus of musicians. Nearer andnearer drew the answering echoes of the lovers' voices until they met inthe hills and the dancing began. 

So realistic and dramatic was her rendering of the song, that thelisteners saw the progress of the lovers and felt the thrill and raptureof their meeting. Up to this point she had held herself in abeyance, butwith the opening bars of the dance, she suddenly became transformed, electrified. Her whole being became suffused with the vibrant, passionate intensity of the South, and then they witnessed an exhibitionthat was beautiful and wonderful in its poetic conception. 

A thrill of rapturous, exquisite emotion swept over them, as suddenlyand without warning, she threw back her head and sprang to the center ofthe rug with a swift, whirling motion, the effect of which was like ashower of sparks or a jet of glittering spray tossed unexpectedly intothe air from a fountain, expressive of the abandon and exuberance feltby the lovers as they met in the dance. 

Again, without warning, she paused as abruptly as she began, and withshort, interluding snatches of song, slowly began to sway to the softrhythm of the music and sharp click of her castanets. First slowly, thenswifter and swifter she glided and whirled noiselessly in themoonlight, graceful as a wind-blown rose, or suddenly paused, languidand sensuous, according to the rhapsodic character of the dance when themusic ceased altogether and naught was heard save the plashing of thefountain in the _patio_, the click of her castanets and the soft swishof her silken _saya_ which seemed to whisper and sigh like a livingthing, like the mythical voices of Lilith's hair. Like a musiciantransposing upon a theme, she introduced new and elaborate motives ofher own until, at a sign from her, the music took up the principal themeof the dance once more. 

Captain Forest had seen practically all the great dancers of our time, the Geisha and Nautch girls of the East, the Gypsies from Granada to St. Petersburg, and the Bedouin women dance naked on the sands of the Saharabeneath the stars while celebrating the sacred rites of their festivals, but it soon became apparent that, all with few exceptions, were merenovices in comparison, and stood in about the same relation to her as adilettante does to an artist. 

She lifted the dance above the portrayal of sensuous emotion intothe realms of poetry. The wild spirit of the Gypsy, captivating, fresh and invigorating and compelling as the winds of the mightySierras and plains of the land she inhabited, enveloped and animatedher. The rushing, whirling climaxes up to which she worked werestartling--tremendous. The subtle, hypnotic influence and witchery ofher presence filled her entire surroundings and so held and dominatedthe spectators that they were swept irresistibly along with her as therhythm of the dance increased. She swayed and enthralled theimagination and emotions with a supremacy akin to that of music or thenoblest landscape. The mastery of every motion, every fleetingexpression but increased the impression she endeavored to convey--theintensity of life, vibrant, joyous life. 

The soft, rhythmic undulations of her graceful, sinuous body, vibratingand pulsating with the ecstatic, rapturous emotion inspired by the musicand the dance, were a revelation of beauty. She became the livingexpression of rhythm and grace as she paused for an instant before them, scintillating and quivering like an aspen leaf, or glided and whirledwraith-like, fragile and delicate and ethereal, wondrously lithe andairy like films of gossamer or foam tossed up by the sea. The danceitself seemed to fade into the background as their attention becameriveted upon her, and visions and vistas of life rose before theimagination instead. 

She danced with her soul, not with her feet; became the livingincarnation of the ancients' conception of plastic creation, enchanting, intoxicating. They heard the myriad voices of spring, the voices ofbirds and insects and the sound of falling waters; beheld the Elysian, flower-strewn fields of youth, recalling the immortal, fairy days ofchildhood and with them their golden dreams, and experienced thesweetness and bitterness of unfulfilled longings and aspirations oflater years. All felt that it was an event of a lifetime--one of thosehours that would never again return. 

The company gave vent to its emotion in alternate exclamations ofenthusiasm or sighs as it was swept irresistibly along by the buoyancyand captivating creation of the dancer. Two bright tears stood inPadre Antonio's eyes as he gazed upon the object of his love and pride. Don Felipe forgot his hatred for the moment and gazed enraptured, drinking in with eyes and soul the enchanting vision before him. Theheart of Blanch grew cold as ice as she, like the rest, looked onentranced in spite of herself by the witchery of her rival, for sheknew she had blundered again, that she had lost, that Chiquita wastransformed--irresistible. The blood seemed to freeze in her veins asthe truth was borne in upon her. She longed to scream, to rush forwardand stop her--anything to break the spell, but in vain. Helpless andimmovable she was forced to look on; see the prize of life slip slowlyfrom her grasp. 

Again Captain Forest beheld the mighty expanse of mountain and plain, heard the lashing of the sea and the myriad voices of the singing starsas they whirled in their courses through space--listened to the chant oflife. Yes, she was the ideal, the living incarnation of nature, theGolden Girl with the white starry flower on her breast who was awaitinghis coming, the woman of José's dream to whom he had been guidedunconsciously by the hand of the Unseen. No wonder he had failed to findthe place of his dreams; without knowing it, he had been waiting forher. But now all was changed. The earth had become their footstool; theold life had come to an end. 

XXXI

A sigh of regret escaped the company as the dance ceased. Blanch turnedto speak to Don Felipe, but he was no longer by her side--he hadvanished. The musicians struck up a waltz. It was now the turn of theguests to dance if they chose; a privilege of which they were not slowto avail themselves. 

Captain Forest crossed over to where Chiquita sat, resting after theexertion of the dance. 

"I'm sure you've had enough dancing this evening, Señorita, " he said, handing her her fan. "Let us go into the garden; it's quieter there. "His words filled her with a tumult of emotion. She realized that themoment for which she had been waiting had arrived. She looked up at himwithout replying, then rose from her seat, and the two quietly left the_patio_, disappearing among the shrubbery and the shadows. 

Neither spoke. Each guessed the other's thoughts, and they walked on insilence until they came to an open circular space surrounded by treesand flooded by moonlight, where, as if moved by a common impulse, theyhalted. Without a word he turned and silently folded her in his arms. 

"Jack--" she murmured. 

"Chiquita _mia_, " he said at length, gazing down into her upturned facewhere the dusk and the moon-fire met and blended in a radiance ofunearthly beauty, "is it not wonderful that, all unwittingly andunconscious of each other's existence, we have been brought togetherfrom the ends of the earth?" She was about to reply when a voice, closeat hand, cut her short. It was Don Felipe's. 

"A pretty sentiment, Captain Forest, " he said, stepping out into thelight before them. "I wish I might congratulate you, but you will nevermarry her. "

"How dare you!" cried the Captain furiously, advancing toward him withflushed face and clenched hands. Chiquita started violently at the soundof Don Felipe's voice. The apprehension of an impending catastrophe thathad oppressed her during the day, but which she had forgotten during theexcitement of the dance, again took possession of her. 

"I apologize most humbly for intruding on your privacy, " answered DonFelipe, meeting the Captain's gaze unflinchingly, "but as one who wishesyou well, I could not stand quietly by and see a man like you cunninglytricked by this woman. "

"What do you mean?" asked the Captain, his eyes blazing and his voicealmost beyond control. 

"Chance or fortune, which ever you may choose to call it, has recentlyplaced certain information in my possession which will entirely precludeany thought on your part of marrying her. " What can he mean, Chiquitaasked herself. She had expected an attack on the Captain and wasprepared for it, but this--what was it?

"You perhaps already know, " continued Don Felipe coolly, "that thiswoman and I were once betrothed to one another, but had I at that timeknown what I now know of her, such a thing as a betrothal would havebeen out of the question. "

"And this information?" interrogated the Captain. 

"It is very simple, Captain Forest, " replied Don Felipe, slowly andfirmly. "The Señorita Chiquita is--the mother of a child. "

"The mother of a child?" cried Chiquita in astonishment. "You lie!" Hiswords were like a blow in the face to the Captain. For an instant theworld seemed to swim before his eyes, but only for an instant. Had herushed upon Don Felipe then and there as he felt impelled, it would havebeen what the latter most wished him to do. He would have then hadsufficient provocation to kill him on the spot. But a lion never springsbefore he has taken the measure of his leap. 

"Don Felipe Ramirez, " said Captain Forest at length, in a hoarse, half-audible voice, "unless you give me instant proof of what you say, either you or I shall never leave this place alive! Understand, " hecontinued, "that when I ask you for proof, it is not because I doubtthis woman, but that your life and mine are at stake. "

"Well spoken, Captain Forest, " returned Don Felipe. "'Tis the answer Iexpected; the utterance of a gentleman, a _Caballero_! You shall havethe proof you desire--the living proof, Captain Forest, " he added withemphasis. 

"Proof?" exclaimed Chiquita in amazement. "Are you bereft of yoursenses, Don Felipe Ramirez?"

"Ah! you have played your part well these many years, Señorita. It isnow my turn to cut the cards. If you will return to the _patio_--" hecontinued, turning to the Captain. 

"Why not here?" asked the latter. 

"Because the proof which you desire awaits you there. " The Captain wasabout to protest further, when Chiquita interposed. 

"Come!" she said, and without further words, turned and silently led theway back to the _patio_ followed by Don Felipe and the Captain, thelatter scarcely able to control his desire to seize Don Felipe by thethroat and choke the breath out of his body. She knew that Don Felipehad laid a most ingenious trap for her; that was to be expected. Butwhat form it would take, she was at a loss to divine until they reachedthe _patio_; then it all came over her at once. She was to be publiclyaccused. Don Felipe was capable of that, and she shuddered as shepictured to herself the scene it would be certain to create. 

There was a pause in the dancing. The musicians were playing aninterlude, and as the three reëntered the _patio_, the eyes of allpresent immediately became centered upon them. Just opposite to wherethey halted sat Blanch and Padre Antonio, conversing together. 

"I would much prefer to spare you a public humiliation, " said DonFelipe, addressing the Captain in a low tone. "It is not too late. Butif you still insist on having the proof at this time--"

"The proof by all means!" exclaimed Chiquita without giving the Captaintime to answer, her eyes blazing with indignation. 

"Very well, since you insist, " replied Don Felipe, glancing for aninstant in the direction of Blanch. As he did so, both the Captain andChiquita noticed that she let fall, as if by accident, the pink rose sheheld in her hand. Instantly Don Felipe turned and clapped his hands, whereupon, an old Indian woman, bowed with age and supporting herselfwith a stick, and accompanied by a pretty little Indian girl of five orsix years of age, emerged from one of the doors of the house and paused, bewildered by the unusual sight that greeted their eyes; the lights andflowers, the music and gayly dressed men and women. Chiquita started anduttered a low cry as her gaze fell upon the old woman and the child. Captain Forest noted the ashen hue of her face and felt her hand trembleas she involuntarily clutched at his arm as if for support. Then shesuddenly seemed to recover her composure. 

"That?" she exclaimed, and began to laugh, almost hysterically. It wasevident to the others that something unusual had occurred. The musicsuddenly ceased, and save for the murmur of the fountain in the centerof the court, not a sound was to be heard. All eyes were now turned uponthe old woman and the child who still stood silent and motionless, gazing in bewilderment upon the strange scene before them. Suddenly thechild uttered a cry of joy. 

"Madre! Madre _mia_!" she cried, and running across the court, flungherself into Chiquita's arms. Then it was that the latter grasped thefull significance and gravity of the situation. What could have beenmore compromising and humiliating for her?

[Illustration: "'Madre! Madre _mia_!' she cried, and flung herself intoChiquita's arms. "]

"Marieta, _niña mia_!" she exclaimed, stooping and kissing the child, without realizing that her words and action only compromised her themore. 

"Is this the beautiful garden you told me of, Mother--which you said youwould one day take me to see?" asked the child, gazing delightedly abouther. 

"Yes, yes, _cara mia_!" she answered hastily, holding the child close toher. Instinctively the others began to draw near the little group. 

"What brings you here, Juana?" she asked sternly of the old woman who bythis time had crossed the court and stood before her, leaning on herstick. 

"They said you sent for us, Señorita, and compelled us to come. "

"I never sent for you!" answered Chiquita. 

"Do you wish for further proof?" asked Don Felipe, addressing theCaptain. "You see, the child found no difficulty in recognizing itsmother, " he added sarcastically. 

"'Tis a lie!" cried Chiquita. Captain Forest was speechless, stunned. Asfor Don Felipe, he only laughed at Chiquita's impotent rage. 

"Between five and six years ago, " he began, "the Señorita and oneJoaquin Flores brought this child late one night to the Indian _pueblo_, Onava, and placed it in charge of this woman with whom it has lived eversince. Is it not so?" he asked, turning to the old Indian woman. 

"It is, Señor, " she answered in confusion. 

"And has not the Señorita visited the child each month and provided forits wants ever since the day it was given into your charge?" Again theold woman answered in the affirmative. "And has not the child, "continued Don Felipe, "always called her mother ever since it has beenable to speak, and have you not always thought her to be its mother?"The old woman hesitated and glanced nervously about her as thoughseeking a way of escape. 

"Speak, Juana!" commanded Don Felipe sharply. "Onava lies within mydomain. Unless you speak the truth, I'll have you and the rest of yourfamily driven to the desert to starve. "

"It is so, Señor!" sobbed the old woman, thoroughly frightened by DonFelipe's threat, yet not daring to raise her eyes to those of Chiquita. 

"You now know why the Señorita Chiquita danced in public during the_Fiesta_. It was to provide for the wants of her child, " he added with asneer. 

"I can't believe it!" exclaimed Captain Forest contemptuously, breakingthe long silence he had preserved. "The introduction of this child andwoman doesn't prove anything that I can see. "

"Every Indian in the village, " interrupted Don Felipe, "willsubstantiate what you have just heard. Why, the Señorita herself taughtthis child to call her mother. But there are still other things whichyou shall learn in due time. "

"Chiquita, " said the Captain without heeding Don Felipe's words, "speak!I know you can explain. " She glanced up at him for a moment and thencast her eyes down at the child. 

"I must first send to La Jara for Joaquin and Manuelita Flores, " sheanswered. "When they come, I shall be able to tell something definiteconcerning this child. "

"You can spare yourself the trouble, " broke in Don Felipe. "They areboth dead. "

"Dead?" she cried, starting violently. "Joaquin and Manuelita dead?"

"Their bodies, together with those of their horses and wagon, werediscovered early this morning at the foot of the _mesa_ which liesbetween here and La Jara, directly below the point where the road windsalong the rim of the cliff. Doubtless their horses became frightened inthe dark and jumped over the cliff before they could save themselves. "

Chiquita uttered a low cry. "You've done your work well, Don FelipeRamirez, " she said at length, suddenly straightening and stiffening asshe faced him, the expression on her face changing to one of hatred andcontempt. 

"It was no easy task to run you to earth, I'll admit, " he retorted withthe same sneering look of triumph on his countenance. 

The only two persons upon whom she could rely, who could corroboratewhat she had to say concerning the child, were dead. No, there was oneother, a man, but he too was gone--no one knew where. She saw thehopelessness of her plight. Nothing she could say or do could alter theopinion of the world toward her. She might continue to deny the charge, protest her innocence, accuse others, but to what avail? Without theactual proof, all must believe that which they were so ready and willingto believe. Had not the child recognized her, called her mother beforethe world? Even though the charge might never be actually proven, andCaptain Forest refuse to believe it, there would always be this thingbetween them which she could never explain satisfactorily. It was notnatural to suppose that he could possibly forget it or continue tobelieve in her protestations of innocence without the corroboration ofothers. The hour must surely come in which he would be assailed bydoubts. She felt she had lost him, and with the knowledge of herfailure, was seized with a sickening sensation and an acute pain at theheart. A misty veil rose between her and the world and she swayedunsteadily as though about to fall. She knew she must not faint. Shedrew her hand across her eyes, then, putting all her remaining strengthinto the effort, she slowly drew herself up. 

Strange, that she and Don Felipe should have been created to become thenemesis of one another! The child, awed by the silence and grave facesof the bystanders, instinctively divined that there was something wrongbetween her and them, and clung mutely to Chiquita's skirt, a frightenedlook on her face. 

Chiquita, meanwhile, stood gazing straight out before her, her headslightly inclined forwards, her face white and set, her heart burningwith shame. It was not so much the question of guilt or innocence thataffected her now, but the shame of it all. What must the Americansthink of her? She felt the burning, searching gaze of those about herand the joy they experienced at her discomfiture. Never had she been ata loss to know which way to turn to extricate herself from a difficulty;but now, how helpless she was. She nervously tapped the palm of her lefthand with her fan, vainly racking her brain in an effort to find asolution. Dick, who had been watching her narrowly the while, saw astrange light begin to play in her eyes in which he read Don Felipe'sdeath as plainly as though it were written across the heavens in lettersof flame. 

"Chiquita, you must say something, " said Captain Forest. "I tell youagain, I don't believe it, but for your own sake--speak!"

"Yes, my child, speak!" entreated Padre Antonio, stepping before her. "Can't you see your silence is condemning you?" She looked up at him andsaw that his face was ashen, colorless like the Captain's--that heseemed to have suddenly aged. Notwithstanding, there was the same kindlyexpression in his eyes she had always known, and she felt that, eventhough the world refused to believe in her, he might; he might evenforgive her. She saw in her present humiliation and shame, a directpunishment for the betrayal of the Padre's confidence. Had she confidedher secret to him, this could not have come upon her. Now, however, itwas too late. She had no right to expect sympathy even from him. 

"Chiquita, for the last time, I ask you to speak!" pleaded CaptainForest, racked between doubt and belief in the woman he loved. Justthen, little Marieta began to cry. 

"Madre, madre!" she gasped between her sobs. "I'm afraid of thesepeople. Take me away--take me home again!"

"Be not afraid, my little one, they cannot harm you, " she answered, drawing the child closer to her and laying one hand on its shoulder. Another embarrassing silence, broken only by the low sobs of Marieta, followed. 

"Chiquita, " demanded Padre Antonio at length, "has this child the rightto call you mother?" There was a stern ring in his voice and she knewher last moment of grace had come; that it was useless to hesitatelonger. She glanced at the Captain, then at the Padre and then down atthe pretty, tear-stained face of the clinging child. Again she felt thatpeculiar pain at the heart and thought she was going to faint as shestruggled with herself between honor, her love and respect for CaptainForest and Padre Antonio and her devotion to the child whose life, sheknew, depended upon her answer. Up to that moment she had beencompletely at a loss to know what to say or how to act, but thatinvisible something which until then had deprived her of speech, nowseemed to impel her to answer in the affirmative. 

It was the supreme moment of her life. After all the years she could notabandon the child now; the woman in her forbade it. She must go on tothe end. Again she glanced down at Marieta, and then raising her headand looking into Padre Antonio's eyes, said quietly: "Yes, she has thatright. "

"It's not true; I don't believe it!" cried Captain Forest in a tone inwhich was expressed all the shame and disgust he experienced on seeingthe woman he loved dragged into the mire before his eyes. 

"Captain Forest, you have heard the truth, " answered Chiquita. 

"Then there is nothing further to be said!" broke in Padre Antonio whowas anxious to end a scene that was growing more painful each moment. Without a word, the Captain whirled on his heel and walked toward thegarden. Clearly, the effects of the drop of poison instilled so adroitlyinto their lives by Don Felipe were beginning to be felt. 

It is doubtful whether Blanch would have given Don Felipe the signalcould she have foreseen the consequences. Her rival could have beenexposed without being publicly humiliated. Nevertheless, an ineffablejoy filled her soul. She knew now that Jack either must return to her, or he would never marry. His sensitive, overwrought mind frenzied andmade desperate by despair might even drive him to kill himself in theend, but what did it really matter so long as no other woman possessedhim?

Don Felipe fairly reveled in his revenge and took no pains to concealit. It was the sweetest moment of his life. At last she too knew what itwas to be struck to earth, to lie prone with one's face in the dust, thejeers of the world ringing in her ears. Of a truth, to quote Dick'swords, "Had the devil raked hell with a fine-tooth comb, he could nothave produced a more accomplished villain than Don Felipe Ramirez. "

XXXII

As Chiquita and Padre Antonio left the _patio_, accompanied by Marietaand old Juana, the women drew back from her as though from some uncleanthing. Gladly would they have spared Padre Antonio's feelings, but theirhatred and jealousy were too intense and the opportunity to cast a stoneat her too tempting for flesh and blood to resist. 

Greatly to the astonishment of every one, it was noted that PadreAntonio carried his head quite as high while leaving, as when he enteredthe _patio_ during the early part of the evening. They expected him tolimp away, a crushed and broken old man; but they had yet to learn theunbending spirit of the Padre. Although humble in the sight of God, experience had taught him that the only way to command the respect ofmen was to hold one's head high while among them. 

What must he think of her now, to be requited thus after all he haddone for her? Chiquita asked herself as she, with Marieta and Juana, followed him homeward. The opinion of the world concerning her, andthe loss of Captain Forest's love, seemed little in comparison to thethought that he should believe she had betrayed his confidence. Shecould endure anything but that. Had she but told him all in thebeginning, he might have been spared the shame of this disgrace. Perhaps it was not yet too late; she would tell him all that night. True, she could not make amends for the pain she had caused him, butperhaps he would understand--forgive her. 

She knew that a continuance of her residence in Santa Fé was no longerpossible. Strange that it should have ended thus, and what was beforeher now? She knew the world only waited to shower wealth and distinctionupon her should she choose the stage for a career; or, she might returnto her people. But what would life be to her under any conditionswithout Padre Antonio's respect and the Captain's love?

Strong and versatile and capable though she was to cope with the world, her lot was not an enviable one. It was with Godspeed, not themaledictions of one's neighbors, that she had hoped to leave the placewhich had sheltered her so long. And Padre Antonio--how could she partfrom him thus?

Captain Forest's last words were her only solace; he had tried tobelieve in her to the end. Let come what might, they would remain withher always like a benediction, a tower of strength in some future hourof trial. And then there was Don Felipe. Ah, yes, Don Felipe! Her teethcame together with a snap, for she knew that, even after what hadtranspired, he would follow her. 

Padre Antonio walked silently homeward without so much as turning roundonce to look at the others. Not even after arriving at the great irongate before the garden did he pause to allow the others to pass in aheadof him as he otherwise would have done, but walked straight on to thehouse and entered the living-room without so much as looking round, leaving Chiquita to dispose of old Juana and the child for the night. 

Padre Antonio was no fool. Perplexed though he was by what had occurred, he knew there was a time for silence as well as a time for speech. Healso knew that Chiquita would join him as soon as the others weresettled for the night, and that she would then tell him her story. 

Outside, the garden was almost as light as during the day, and the room, though partially in shadow, was illumined by the moonlight to an extentthat rendered objects within it distinctly visible. The events of theevening had sorely taxed his strength. He was thoroughly tired, and witha sigh he threw himself into his large leathern chair to rest untilChiquita returned. 

"What was the mystery in connection with the child?" he asked himself, closing his eyes in thought. Don Felipe's story could not be true. "Itwas absurd, preposterous!" he cried aloud, opening his eyes with astart. As he did so, his gaze fell upon a picture on the wall opposite, gleaming conspicuously in the full flood of moonlight. It was thatbeautiful illustration of what human faith may accomplish; the familiarrepresentation of Saint Elizabeth of Thuringia meekly displaying thecontents of her apron before her lord, the Landgrave--that heavy, sporadic type of whiskered ass whose only mission in life seems to bethat of pulling the stars and all else down about his wassail-soakedhead and ears through sheer avoirdupois and stupidity. Padre Antonioexperienced a sudden thrill as he gazed at the picture. Clearly, it wasthe hand of God directing him. So did Saint Elizabeth deliberately denythe truth, and yet the bread in her apron was turned to roses. 

Instinctively he recalled Captain Forest's last words. And then, puttingtwo and two together, he also recalled the fact that he had notedsomething during the scene which nobody else seemed to have noticed, namely: that the face of the child, Marieta, was the living image of DonFelipe's. Like a flash all became clear to him, and he smiled and noddedas the truth dawned upon him, and he wondered greatly at Chiquita'sdiscretion. Yet why should he be astonished? Was it not like her?

Chiquita also wondered in turn, and was much perplexed by his attitude, the quiet, benign expression of his face, when she entered the roomafter bidding Juana and Marieta good night. She had expected exactly thereverse. What did it mean, did he know anything? But she did not stop toquestion him. Before unburdening her soul, she must first divest herselfof the jewels which, ever since the terrible scene at the _Posada_, shefelt she had dishonored. Their touch seemed to burn her flesh. 

"Padre _mio_, " she said quietly, as though nothing unusual had occurred, "you know I said it would not be necessary to wear these jewels longerthan to-night. I really never should have worn them at all. It was notright, for, as you see, I am not worthy of them. " She began to unclaspthe bracelet on her arm, but hastily putting forth his hand, he checkedher. 

"No, my child!" he said, rising from the chair. "You must keepthem--they are yours. Besides, they are so becoming to you! Again Isay--you are the only woman in this world worthy to wear them. "

"Padre, Padre _mio_!" she cried, starting backward and gazing full inhis face. "You--you believe in me?"

"How could you have imagined anything else, my child?" he answeredquietly. Without attempting a reply, she threw herself upon his breast, convulsed with sobs and trembling in every limb, telling him plainerthan words how terribly shaken she had been by the ordeal through whichshe had just passed. He did not attempt to soothe or pacify her withwords, knowing how useless it would be, but waited quietly for herpassionate outburst to subside. 

"Ah! Padre _mio_, how good you are, and how have I requited you!" shesaid at length, looking up at him through her tears and slowlydisengaging herself from his arms. "You know, " she continued betweenconvulsive sobs, and slowly drying her tears, "that little Marieta isthe child of Don Felipe and Pepita Delaguerra. " Padre Antonio started atthe mention of the latter's name. 

"Pepita Delaguerra?" he repeated. "I felt all along that she was DonFelipe's child, the resemblance is so striking, and I wonder the othersdid not notice it, but I never connected her with Pepita; perhapsbecause it is so long since she died. How strange that he should haveintroduced his own child without knowing it!"

"Yes, " returned Chiquita. "And yet it is not so strange after all. Persons of his character invariably blunder in the end, clever thoughthey be. Another strange coincidence is that they were married just sixyears ago to-day in the little Mission church of San Isidor at Onava. "

"Why, that was before Don Juan's death, and in direct opposition to thestipulations of his will!" exclaimed Padre Antonio excitedly. 

"Just so, " answered Chiquita. "That's what caused the trouble. Theentire property should have gone to the Church, but Felipe destroyed therecord of his marriage before his father's death and the birth of hischild. "

"The scoundrel!" cried the Padre. 

"But that is not all, " continued Chiquita. "Everything seemed to be inleague with him to further his plans. Father Danuncio, who secretlymarried them, also died before Don Juan did, without divulging thesecret. "

"Strange!" ejaculated Padre Antonio. 

"There were three witnesses to the marriage--Joaquin and ManuelitaFlores, whom Don Felipe has cleverly put out of the way, and BobCarlton, the gambler, who, at that time, was Don Felipe's intimatefriend; but he, too, is gone and never dare return. "

"The clever scoundrel!" interrupted the Padre. 

"Yes, " answered Chiquita. "When it comes to deviltry, Don Felipe has yetto meet his match. But as I was about to say: Six months after themarriage, Don Felipe deserted Pepita, then the child was born, andknowing that he would unhesitatingly make way with it should he learn ofits existence, Joaquin and I took it to Onava, where we knew it wouldbe hid effectually from the world. Of course old Juana and all the otherIndians in the village thought the child was mine, and I let them thinkso in order that its identity might the better be concealed until wewere able to prove to whom it belonged. "

"But why did you not tell me this in the beginning, my child?" he askedwith a note of reproach in his voice. "I might have--"

"Ah, that was to protect you, Padre _mio_! It might have been wiser hadI done so, and yet I think not. I felt impelled to keep you in ignoranceof the facts, for I knew that Don Felipe would stop at nothing. Whatwould your life have been to him, had you come between him and hisposition? His wealth is too vast. I knew that, as surely as you raisedyour voice against him, as you would have been obliged to in theinterests of the Church, you one day would have been found dead in somelonely pass in the mountains while engaged in your Mission work. "

Padre Antonio was too astute an observer of men not to perceive theforce of her words. 

"I marvel at your sagacity, my child; but think what it has cost you!"

"Ah! that is the marvelous part of it!" she replied. "Whoever would haveimagined that, unconscious of the true facts, he would have succeeded inturning my own weapons against me? It's fate, Padre _mio_. "

He paced back and forth for some time in silence, then suddenly pausingbefore her, said: "This cloud must not rest upon you, Chiquita _mia_. Wemust find that blackleg, Carlton, if we have to raise heaven and earthto do it. "

"That is easier said than done, Padre _mio_, " she answered quietly. 

"God never wholly abandons his children to the evil of the world, " hereturned firmly. "Don Felipe has deceived the Church once, but he shallnot do so a second time. God has allowed him to triumph thus far inorder that his punishment may be all the greater in the end when itcomes upon him. Carlton must be somewhere just across the border--inTexas or Arizona or New Mexico. Within twenty-four hours after the wordhas been flashed over the wires, runners will have passed through allour remote Missions along the border, and if he is no longer in Mexico, then the word shall be passed across the frontier into the UnitedStates. If he still be alive, he can not escape us. We will find him andbring him back again. No, the Church is not so powerless as many, strongin worldly possessions, imagine. The Church of Rome has never yet failedto find the man or woman she has set out to find. Don Felipe will bestripped of his possessions and his child restored to its rightfulposition. 

"Again I say, God's ways are past all understanding. You have been Hisunconscious instrument. Think of what you were and how you came to me, and what your life has been since then! Have you endured all for naught?Are God's plans to be frustrated by a man, a dastardly craven like DonFelipe? No, my child, I see things clearer now than I ever have seenthem before. You and Captain Forest have not been brought together fromthe ends of the earth only to be mocked by the world of evil. Goddemands that we all shall pass through the fire in order that we may befitted to bear the burden He lays upon us. You both have endured thetrial; proved yourselves worthy of the mission He has entrusted to you. "

He paused. Then, suddenly recollecting the all-important question, heexclaimed: "I forget, we are wasting time; we must find Carlton! Thisvery night word shall go forth!" and hastily snatching up his hat andstick, he hurried out into the night. 

XXXIII

Captain Forest's feelings are better imagined than described. His brainwas in a whirl, on fire. For the second time a woman had treated hisconfidence lightly. The whole world seemed to spin round him in chaoticconfusion as he sought to lay hold of a single, tangible thought thatmight temper his judgment, steady his nerves and check the fierceoutbursts of passion which were fast sweeping him beyond self-control. He had reached a state of recklessness that renders a man of histemperament most dangerous, and unless his judgment soon got the betterof his passions, he would, as likely as not, either kill Chiquita or DonFelipe, or both of them. 

The company had broken up shortly after the departure of Chiquita andPadre Antonio, leaving the _patio_ silent and deserted, save for thepresence of the Captain, who paced silently back and forth; the moonflooding the _patio_ with broad sheets of white light, causing objectsto appear almost as sharp and distinct as before the lights of thelanterns were extinguished. 

Blanch, who was the last to leave, would have offered him her sympathy, but on approaching him, he gave her a look so terrifying that even shedared not speak to him. She accordingly retired to her room and seatedherself before the open window from which she commanded a view of thecourt and could observe him at her leisure. Perhaps he will come to hissenses now, she thought. At any rate, he now knew what she suffered. Sheexperienced a feeling of cruel satisfaction and exultation while calmlywatching the struggle going on within him as he paced slowly back andforth. 

How strange that they should be there in that out-of-the-way place! Inspite of the terrible ordeal through which she had passed and thedramatic climax in which the struggle had just culminated, it stillappeared so unreal, so unnatural to her, that she wondered whether shewas not still dreaming and must soon awaken to find herself back in theold life again and Jack near her, as in the old days. Who could haveforeseen this tragedy, this end to their lives? But a few monthsprevious all things appeared so clear and defined, so definitelyordained for them. 

Truly the future was veiled--a sealed book for man! Had she beenpermitted to dip for but an instant beneath the cover of that book, orlift the veil ever so little, the catastrophe that had overtaken themand the suffering it entailed might have been averted. 

But no. The strange nemesis that had pursued them step by step had beenpermitted to wreck their lives completely. And for what end--whatpurpose? Was there no justice, no recompense for them? The answer, shesomehow felt, lay not here, but with the stars--in the great universalscheme of things, and was quite beyond her reasoning powers. 

She felt the utter hopelessness of longer struggling against the unseen, and in that hour she became a fatalist. Better drift from day to daywithout purpose, than living, behold one's dreams and ambitions come tonaught. She was like a strong, self-confident swimmer who had beencaught by the tide and was being swept irresistibly out to sea. Blurredthough her vision was, she seemed to see things clearer than she hadever seen them before, and she somehow felt that the fate which hadovertaken her was the result of self-aggrandizement--that she in ameasure typified the passing or end of a condition out of whose decaythe new life must spring. 

Submit she must, and yet a fierce resentment against all things filledher soul. She rebelled at the apparent injustice which she felt had beendone her. Why had she, the most fit, been chosen? What had she reallydone to merit such an end? She realized that her trouble wasunalterable; that it had its root in the social scheme of things andnothing she could do could alter it. That in reality it was no fault ofhers, but the fault of her bringing up; that the world which she hadbeen taught to respect as a thing representing truth and beauty, allthat is best in man, was only a mocking illusion. 

The injustice of it amazed, appalled, stunned her. She seemed to thinkand move like one in a dream, struggling with shadowy, intangible forceswith which she was incapable to cope. The thought that it was not herfault only added to her bitterness and agony, and she longed fordeath--the death that knows no awakening--to be blotted out utterly, andforever. Her life was devoid of hope, there was nothing to look forwardto, the future had become a blank. 

A low moan, in which was expressed the despair and agony of men sincethe beginning of time, escaped her. She pressed her cold hands to herburning, throbbing temples and prayed that, whatever her end might be, it would come swiftly. 

Again she raised her head and glanced through the open window. To hersurprise she saw the tall form of Dick Yankton leaning against one ofthe pillars of the arcade that ran round the _patio_. He was smokingquietly and observing the Captain, who still strode back and forthapparently unaware of his presence. Suddenly the Captain stopped shortas if he had come to a decision. As he did so, he turned half round andsaw Dick, whom he regarded for some moments in silence. Then, going overto where he stood, she heard him exclaim: "It's not true, Dick, I don'tbelieve it. I'm going to her now and tell her so!" At the same instantshe also saw Don Felipe glide noiselessly and stealthily from one of thedoors opening on to the _patio_ and pause in the deep shadow of thearcade next to the wall, close to where they stood. Instantly she was onher feet and leaning forward, breathless and eager to catch all that wassaid. 

"Neither do I believe it, " answered Dick. "But I wouldn't have told youso. I wanted you to make up your mind first, and if you hadn't said sojust now, I wouldn't show you this, either, " he continued, drawing fromhis inner coat pocket a large envelope from which he took a letter andhanded it to the Captain. 

She saw the sheet of paper tremble in the Captain's hands as he read itscontents. Again Dick handed him another sheet somewhat larger anddarker than the first. He seized it eagerly, glancing hurriedly over itscontents, his hands trembling more violently than before. 

"Marvelous!" he exclaimed excitedly, looking at Dick. "And yet, " headded, "it's not so strange after all; it's so natural!"

Blanch uttered a suppressed cry. She felt that her last chance ofwinning back the Captain was gone forever. It was a last stab at herheart. At this juncture José appeared from out the shadows of the gardenbeyond the _patio_ and hurriedly approached them. She heard him saysomething in Spanish which she did not understand. Then, all becameblurred before her eyes. She felt herself begin to sway and totter--shefainted. 

 * * * * *

Following José, the Captain and Dick came upon Starlight, quietlycropping the grass in the garden, just outside the corral. On hearingtheir approach, the Chestnut raised his head, and, seeing his master, gave a low whinny of recognition. Close beside him on the grass lay adark, shapeless object which, on closer inspection, proved to be theremains of Juan Ramon, trampled almost beyond recognition by thestallion's terrible hoofs. 

While Chiquita was being confronted by Don Felipe and the attention ofevery one was occupied by the scene that followed, Juan seized theopportunity for which he had been waiting. Stealing quietly away to thecorrals, he deftly flung a _riata_ over the stallion's head, and, looping it about the animal's nose, was on his back with a bound. 

There was no question of Juan's ability to ride him. Once on a horse'sback, he had never yet been unseated. He had expected the Chestnut torear and plunge, to fight desperately on finding a stranger on his backand he was prepared for it, but greatly to his surprise, the horseshowed no signs of fight and went meekly out of the corral at hisbidding. All went well until they reached the garden, and Juan wasbeginning to congratulate himself on making his escape so easily, whensuddenly and without warning, the Chestnut stopped short, reached roundwith his head, and seizing Juan by the leg with his teeth, jerked him tothe ground. Juan heard the stallion's fierce cry of rage, and--that wasthe end. 

The luck had changed again for Juan, and with it vanished his fair dreamof life on the little _hacienda_ with the pretty Rosita. 

José had long been aware of Juan's intentions regarding the horse, andlaughed quietly to himself as he thought of the trap Juan was laying forhimself. That afternoon he appeared to be drinking heavily, and early inthe evening feigned intoxication in order that Juan might go to hisdeath which he knew awaited him should he so much as lay his hand on thehorse. 

When Blanch regained consciousness once more, she found herself in ahalf sitting and kneeling posture before the window with one arm restingon the sill. She must have been unconscious for some time, for when shecame to herself, she again saw Captain Forest and Dick standing in the_patio_ conversing in low tones. They soon separated, Dick going intothe house, and the Captain making his way through the garden. She knewhe was on his way to Chiquita. She also saw Don Felipe steal from theshadow of his concealment and follow him. 

A great fear seized her. She felt the imminence of a disaster greaterthan that which had already occurred. Something terrible was about tohappen. The thought aroused her to action and she hurriedly rose to herfeet. If possible, she would prevent that final catastrophe which herintuition told her was imminent--which she knew must overtake either oneor all three of them should Don Felipe and the Captain meet again thatnight in Chiquita's presence. 

There was not a moment to lose, and seizing a light wrap which lay on achair beside her, she flung it about her shoulders and hurriedly leftthe room. 

XXXIV

Before leaving the _patio_, Bessie promised to meet Dick in the gardenafter the company dispersed for the night. After the Captain'sdeparture, Dick returned to the _patio_ and took his stand in the shadowof the nearest trees, where he awaited her. 

Never had her mood appeared so distracted and evasive as that evening. She had avoided him as much as possible. He was quite at a loss to knowhow to take her, and wondered what would be the outcome of theirinterview which, he felt, might possibly be their last. 

Notwithstanding this melancholy prospect, he still experienced the samespirit of buoyancy which possessed him during the day. He had caught herregarding him several times during the evening with what he thought tobe a look of tenderness in her eyes, and this, perhaps, accounted in ameasure for his present elation. 

She, in turn, had wondered greatly at the change that had come over him. How could he possibly be so gay when everybody else was so miserable, and she thoroughly resented it. 

During the interval that had elapsed after the breaking up of thecompany, she had participated in a stormy interview with her father andaunt; the latter endeavoring to point out to her the danger incurred byholding intercourse with obscure, low-born persons, as had just beendemonstrated in the Captain's case. 

She was surprised on returning to her room not to find Blanch there, but, on second thought, felt it was only natural after what had occurredthat she should want to be alone, and thought she must be somewhere inthe garden. She had seen Dick leave the _patio_ and disappear in theshadow beyond, whither she directed her steps, passing out and aroundthe front of the house, as she did not wish to incur the risk of beingseen by her father or aunt. 

Dick, who had tossed aside his hat on the grass and stood leaningagainst the trunk of a tree, was presently aroused from his meditationsby the object of his thoughts, who stood close beside him. 

"Well, I'm here, " she said, by way of beginning, looking up into hisface. 

"I was looking for you in the other direction, " he replied, throwingaway his half-burnt cigar. "I ought to have known better. You are alwaysdoing the opposite of that which one expects. "

A smile lit up her face for a moment, as she flashed her beautiful wideeyes upon him. She seemed a part of that beauteous night, elfish anddelicate as a moonbeam or a flower, fragile as the song of a bird. Hecould not speak, but stood drinking her in with his eyes and soul, hisface wearing a mixed expression of rapture and pain. She knew what hefelt, and like him, she, too, struggled with herself for the mastery ofher emotion. 

"Do you know, " she said at length, "this is the first time I have everbeen guilty of a clandestine meeting with a man. If my father knew I washere, he would be beside himself. "

"Then you did want to come!" he exclaimed. 

"Of course. Otherwise, why should I be here?" she responded shyly, raising her eyes to his for an instant and then lowering them again. 

"Bessie!" he cried, starting toward her. 

"Hush!" she said, raising her hand in protest and checking him. Had hetaken her in his arms then and there, she would have surrendered withouta struggle, for she was in that soft, languid mood of a woman in love inspite of herself. But he dared not give way to his impulse. He loved hertoo much, and feared lest his impetuosity might ruin forever his chanceof winning her. 

"I know it was foolish of me to come, especially when there was noreason for it, " she continued with assumed indifference, casting asidelong glance at him out of the corners of her eyes. In spite of thepain she knew she inflicted, she could not resist flirting with him justa little even at such a moment. It filled her with such exquisite joy tofeel anew the power she exercised over him and the unfathomable depth ofhis love which each fresh thrust at his heart revealed to her. 

"I came here, " she slowly resumed, "to ask what you think of Chiquita?"

"Think!" he burst forth savagely, aroused almost to a pitch ofdesperation by her irritating manner. "Do you take me for as big a foolas Don Felipe, or--" your father? he was about to add, but checkedhimself just in time. "When one has known Chiquita as long as I have, you don't think things about her, you know. Don Felipe, " he went on, "reminds me of the naughty little boy who one day, while playing in apark, threw mud on a swan, imagining that he had besmirched the birdforever until it dived under the water and reappeared again as white asbefore. Why, even if I at this moment did not possess the absolute proofof her innocence, nobody could ever persuade me to believe that story. You don't know the Indian as I do, Miss Van Ashton. The high-casteIndian women are quite as incapable of such things as you are. It was adevilishly clever stroke on Don Felipe's part, I'll admit, but he hasdeceived himself as thoroughly as the rest of the world. "

"What proof have you?" she asked with a surprised and mystified look, her woman's curiosity thoroughly aroused. Dick chuckled softly in reply. 

"What are you laughing at?" she demanded, not a little nettled by hismanner. 

"I'm not laughing, " he answered. "I'm merely trying to smother the rageyou have aroused in me by dallying with me in this manner when you knowperfectly well that I asked you to come here to tell you that I--"

"Stop!" she commanded authoritatively. "I wish to see that proof beforeanything further passes between us. "

"Will you never become serious?" he asked, drawing an envelope from hispocket, the contents of which he had shown Captain Forest. "It'sstrange, " he continued, "that this document should concern you as wellas Don Felipe and Chiquita. "

"What do you mean?" she asked in astonishment. Again he laughed softlyby way of reply. 

"It's funny you should get mixed up in their affairs!"

"I don't understand you, " she interrupted, more mystified and irritatedthan ever. "Give me that letter, Mr. Yankton!" she demanded, holding outher hand. 

"Then step out into the light, please, you lovely, tantalizing witch, "he answered, drawing the papers from the envelope and handing them toher. "If I didn't love you to distraction, I wouldn't stand this sort ofthing a minute longer. God!" he cried, glancing heavenward, "you'll bethe death of me yet. "

"Have you forgotten, Mr. Yankton?" she asked calmly, her face turning adelicate crimson. 

"Then read--read!" he cried in desperation, scarcely able to controlhimself. She knew it could not last much longer. She slowly unfolded thelarge sheets of paper and began to read their contents in the moonlight. 

"Aloud, please, " he said. 

"Why aloud?"

"Oh, just as you please!"

"Very well, if you wish it. 'Dear Dick, ' she began with a slighthesitancy. 'When this reaches you I shall have passed over the border tothat unknown range from whence nobody ever returns. Enclosed you willfind the record of Don Felipe Ramirez's and Pepita Delaguerra'smarriage which, at Don Felipe's instigation, I stole from the registerin the church at Onava, giving him a copy of the same which hedestroyed, believing it to be the original. I did this with theintention of extorting money from him later on. I and Joaquin Flores andhis wife were the only witnesses to the marriage. But there is a sequel. Pepita gave birth to a child, a girl, after Felipe deserted her. Ilearned later that Chiquita and the two Flores concealed it somewhere inone of the Indian _pueblos_ near La Jara, as they feared Don Felipewould make way with the child should he learn of its existence. '

"How strange!" exclaimed Bessie excitedly. "Why, that was Don Felipe'sown child which he introduced this evening and said was Chiquita's. "

"Exactly, " said Dick, quietly. 

"But I don't see what all this has to do with me, " she added. 

"Proceed, please, " he answered. "That's not the only surprise his lettercontains. "

Glancing down at the sheets once more she resumed:

"'You will also be greatly surprised to learn that the young lady whowas present on the day you saved my life and whose name I asked, is mysister. '

"The insinuation is infamous!" she cried, letting the papers fall to theground. 

"Miss Van Ashton, " he interrupted, calmly stooping and picking up thepapers and handing them to her again, "you forget--you are reading theconfession of a dying man. "

"His sister!" she continued indignantly. "It can't be possible--I neverhad a brother!"

"Please proceed, Miss Van Ashton, " he replied. Amazed and bewildered, Bessie excitedly resumed the reading of the strange letter. 

"'My sister never knew me because I left home shortly after she wasborn; but, notwithstanding, I recognized her the instant I set eyes onher, not only owing to the presence of my father that day, but to theremarkable resemblance she bears to my mother. She is the living imageof her. '" Bessie paused, overcome with agitation. 

"How very remarkable, " she said, as if to herself. "Every one who knewmy mother says we resemble one another very closely in manner as well asin looks. My father always keeps our photographs placed side by side onhis desk at home. Except for the difference in the style of dress, it isalmost impossible to tell which is which. What he says does sound true, "she admitted. "Yet--"

"There can be no doubt of it, " broke in Dick. Again Bessie looked downat the papers and resumed:

"'Before I breathe my last, Dick, I want to tell you that I havediscovered the lead to the old Esmeralda mine; the enclosed chart willguide you to it. Tell my sister that half of it belongs to her and theother half to Pepita's child if you are able to find her. Perhaps thisone and only generous act of my selfish life will atone somewhat for mymany misdeeds. Good-by, Dick, and God bless you. '"

"You needn't read that!" he interrupted. But without heeding him, shecontinued:

"'You are the best and bravest fellow alive. Good-by, Dick, again, forthe last time. 

"'Harry Van Ashton, better known to the world as Bob Carlton, gamblerand--'" The letter ended abruptly. A sob broke from Bessie. Two brighttears glistened like jewels in the moonlight on her long lashes and thenstole silently down her cheeks. 

"Don't take it so hard, Miss Van Ashton, " he said. "Your brother waswild, but not so bad as the world thought him. "

"My poor brother!" she murmured. 

"I am sure, " he resumed after a little, "that when your brother lookedinto your eyes that day, his manhood reasserted itself; that he repentedand threw off his past life like an old garment, and from that moment, stood prepared to enter the presence of his Maker. "

"You are very good to say that, " she answered, looking up at him withshining eyes. 

"No, it's not good of me at all, " he returned. "I love you too much tosay anything but what I know to be true. " She did not reply, butremained lost in thought, her eyes cast on the ground. 

"Bessie!" he exclaimed passionately, drawing nearer to her. "Why do youhesitate? You know that I understand you better than any one else evercould. You know you love me!" She knew her moment had come; that shemust answer him for all time, and strive as she would, she could notconceal her confusion. He did not know how intense was the strugglegoing on within her, nor realize what it meant to her to give up thelife she had known always. 

"And what if I told you, " she said at length, her eyes still downcast, "that I care more for you than anything else in this world, Dick?"pronouncing his name aloud for the first time. "What would you saythen?"

"That I will love you for all time, Sweetheart! That I will make you thehappiest woman in the world!" he cried, his arms closing about her, andkissing her full on the lips. 

"When we are married, " he said at last, "we'll start in search of theEsmeralda, the famous old Spanish mine that was destroyed by theearthquake, and if, as your brother said, he really found the leadagain, you and Don Felipe's child will be the two richest women inChihuahua. "

"Then let it be soon, Dick!" she answered. "Oh! I know I've beenperfectly horrid!" she cried, flinging her arms about his neck in afresh outburst, and kissing him again and again. "But I'll make it up toyou, Dick! I'll show you how Bessie Van Ashton can love!" There wasanother long silence, during which each could hear the beating of theother's heart. Then looking up with a pained, disheartened expression onher face, she said: "I'm sorry I can't come to you with a fortune, Dick. My father will cast me off, and all I now possess in this world are youand the clothes on my back. "

"Why, you sweet, pathetic little beggar!" he exclaimed, sealing her lipswith a kiss. 

"He said he would rather see me dead at his feet than married to you, "she went on. "Of course, if you were immensely wealthy, he might learnto tolerate you in time. We're all like that, you know, but as thingsare, we'll have to shift as best we can. "

"Well, I don't lay claim to much, " he said, restraining his mirth withdifficulty. "There's the Esmeralda, you know, but even if that fails us, there's no cause for immediate worry. We'll find a modest little hovelsomewhere that is large enough to contain our love. " And then he laughedlong and loud, laughed as he had never laughed before. 

"What are you laughing at?" she inquired, with a dawning suspicion thathe was keeping something from her. 

"Oh, nothing, " he answered at length. "You'll forgive me, I'm sure, whenI say, that I can't help thinking what an ass your father is!" AndBessie Van Ashton stepped into a bigger life than she had ever known. 

XXXV

Perhaps all was not yet lost. The Padre's words and attitude acted likea wonderful elixir upon Chiquita. They buoyed her up, lifted her soulfrom the dust where it had been flung and trampled upon. 

The house oppressed her, and sleep being impossible, she opened the doorand stepped out into the garden and wandered along the paths that led inand out among the flowers and shrubs, inhaling the delicious night air, faintly perfumed with the delicate fragrance of mignonette andheliotrope and a few last roses. 

The fresh air and the beauty and quiet of the night soothed her. Shefelt her strength return, and a great calm took possession of her as shemoved to and fro in the moonlight, now casting her eyes toward thestars, now downward at the wan, drooping heads of the flowers whichswayed gently in the faint night breeze. Her face radiantly beautiful, her jewels flashing against the pale white setting of her dress and hertawny skin, she resembled more the lovely ghost of some long-departedSpanish woman that had returned to earth to revisit familiar haunts, than one still among the living. 

What was he doing now? she asked herself. It was impossible that heshould continue to believe in her. It was more than could be expected;no one but Padre Antonio was capable of that. Just then she heard thesound of footsteps on the walk outside the wall and a moment later, theclick of the latch on the gate as it swung open. She thought it must bePadre Antonio come back again, and she turned to meet him. A faint, suppressed cry escaped her, for there, just inside the gate, stoodCaptain Forest. 

He had evidently not yet seen her and paused as if uncertain whether toadvance. She stood in the open space beside the bench, just off thepathway leading from the gate to the house, along which he must advanceshould he decide to proceed farther. A pale, plumy spray of tamariskintervened between them, otherwise he must have seen her. For some timehe stood silent and motionless as if uncertain what to do, then he beganto advance slowly in her direction. 

What did he want? Why had he come at this hour? Her heart beat high andshe began to tremble with excitement as she watched him coming towardher. 

Her wan, pale dress so closely resembled the moonlight in the shadow ofthe tamarisk that he might have passed her unnoticed had she notunconsciously closed her half-open fan which she was nervously claspingin both hands. It shut with a soft, faint snap, causing him to stop andturn in her direction. 

"Chiquita!" he cried, and springing forward, had her in his arms beforeshe could prevent it. 

"No, no; you must not!" she cried, overcome by his suddenness and vainlystruggling to free herself. 

"Chiquita, " he went on without heeding her, "I could not wait untilmorning, and came to tell you again that I believe in you--that I loveyou--that nothing but death can separate us in this life!"

She saw and felt the uselessness of struggling against his greatstrength and will, so she relaxed her efforts and became quite passivein his arms, her face cast down. Besides, it seemed as though all herstrength had left her. She trembled so violently and felt so weak thatshe must have sunk to the ground had he not supported her. 

"Sweetheart!" he cried more passionately than ever. "What do we care forthe world? Look up and say you will come with me!" Her soul thrilledwith the rapture his words caused her. 

"Jack, " she said at length, raising her head and looking up into hisface, "I love you too much to do that. Not until my name has beencleared--" They heard a rustling sound on the other side of thetamarisk. Another moment, and the long, plumy sprays parted and DonFelipe stepped into the pathway. His face was ashen pale and wore thelook of a thoroughly desperate man. 

"Captain Forest, " he began, breaking the painful silence that ensued, "Ihave vowed that you shall never marry her. I give you one more chance, "and he raised his right arm and pointed toward the gate. "Go, whilethere is yet time!" he commanded, his voice vibrant with passion. "Goback to the _Posada_ at once and saddle your horse and leave the countrythis very night. If you do not--"

"You think to intimidate me?" interrupted the Captain, quietlyreleasing Chiquita from his arms and confronting him. 

"Once more--will you go?" demanded Don Felipe in a harsh, fierce voice. 

"No!" answered the Captain. 

"Then your blood be upon your own head!" he cried, and without amoment's warning, he drew a long knife from his inner breast pocket andrushed furiously upon him. 

"Coward, to attack an unarmed man!" cried the Captain, springing asidejust in time to avoid his thrust. Without replying, Don Felipe whirledwith the swiftness of a cat and rushed at him again. The Captain glancedhurriedly about him in search of some weapon of defense. Close at handhe espied a small, fragile, gilt chair that had been left there bychance during the day. Seizing it by the back with both hands he raisedit aloft and aimed a swift blow at his adversary, but the lattercleverly dodged it by dropping on one knee. The chair crashed to theground with terrific force, its fragments flying in all directions. 

Captain Forest was a wonderfully active man for his size. Before DonFelipe was on his feet again, he sprang forward and seized his rightarm. The two men grappled desperately for some moments, but what was DonFelipe in the hands of a giant. Suddenly the knife went whirling backover the Captain's shoulder, forming a glittering half-circle in themoonlight as it fell among the flowers. Then Captain Forest lifted DonFelipe with both hands as easily as he would have lifted a child andhurled him violently to the ground several feet away. A smothered cry ofpain escaped him. 

"Lie there, dog!" said the Captain, contemptuously. 

"Not so, Captain Forest--we're not done yet!" answered Don Felipe, rising with difficulty on one knee. From his hip pocket he drew apistol. 

"Don Felipe Ramirez!" came Chiquita's voice, ringing clear; but he didnot heed the warning. Instantly her hand went to her breast and therewere two almost simultaneous shots. Don Felipe sprang into the air witha loud cry, alighting upright upon both feet. He gasped, staggeredforward a pace, and then sank down on his knees. Again he gasped, clutched desperately at his heart with his left hand, and then, with alast supreme effort, slowly raised his weapon with his trembling handand once more took aim at the Captain. There was another quick flash andreport, and Don Felipe Ramirez lay dead on the ground between them. 

In silence they gazed at one another across Don Felipe's body. TheCaptain was about to speak when they were startled by a low moan justbehind them, and, turning, they saw Blanch sink slowly to the bench in asitting posture, her head resting on her arm across the back of thebench. In an instant they were at her side. 

[Illustration: "They were startled by a low moan and saw Blanch sinkslowly to the bench. "]

"Blanch!" cried the Captain in consternation at the sight of the bloodthat was oozing slowly from her left side, and which Chiquita was vainlyendeavoring to stanch with her handkerchief. At the sound of his voice, she slowly opened her eyes. 

"Forgive me, " she whispered in an almost inaudible tone, as they knelton either side of her, supporting her. For some moments she lay quitemotionless, then a slight tremor passed through her and with a littlesigh like that of a child's, her head slipped down upon Chiquita'sbreast. The bullet which Don Felipe had intended for the Captain hadpassed through her heart; the penalty she paid for giving the signal inthe _patio_. 

The moonlight fell full across her face, which, contrary to what onemight suppose, wore an expression of peace and calm, almost a smile, like one in a dream. 

"How beautiful she is!" murmured Chiquita, holding her tenderly in herarms. 

"Would to God she had been spared!" answered the Captain, his voicechoking with emotion. Yet each felt as they gazed on her upturned face, whose expression was rather that of sleep than of death, that she wasbetter off thus; for what did life hold for her?

XXXVI

For most men death ends all things, but for those whose souls areillumined by the unquenchable flame of faith, death is but the beginningof life. 

The news of the tragedy, following swift upon that of Juan Ramon'sdeath, spread like wildfire, fairly taking the people's breath away, andthrowing the community into a tumult of excitement. Not since the dayswhen the victorious American armies had entered Mexico and laid wastethe land, had there been such a commotion in the old town. 

The community was shaken to its center. What would happen next? Oldwomen paused in the midst of their chatter and, crossing themselves, said an extra _ave_ as a protection against the Evil One; for no oneknew who would be taken next. 

Don Felipe Ramirez, the handsomest and wealthiest and most influentialman in Chihuahua, dead--at the hand of a woman--an Indian!

Most people admitted that he had merited death. That his end was a justpunishment for his misdeeds, but then, had it not been for the woman whohad wrecked his life, how different his end might have been!

Juan Ramon would be missed for a day at the gaming tables, but thebeautiful American Señorita--why should she have paid the price ofblood? It was too much. The popular outburst was tremendous, quitebeyond Padre Antonio's influence or control. The evil and tragedy whichthe witch seemed to draw with her in her train far outweighed the goodshe had accomplished since her advent in the town. And if the grandSeñor, Captain Forest, of an alien race, still chose to remain in theplace, why, let him look to his personal safety if he still set storeupon his life. 

Such was popular sentiment, and out of the countless maledictions thatwere heaped upon the dark woman and the man she had bewitched, theregrew that sullen and ominous silence of presentiment like that precedinga storm, and which boded but one end to them both--death. 

José and Dick were the first to apprise the Captain of the true state ofaffairs, although he had not remained insensible to the threateninglooks and dark, sullen faces that greeted him on every hand. 

"The place has become too hot to hold you, old man, " said Dick. "You andChiquita had better go somewhere for a little _pasear_. You'll find theair in the mountains more salubrious than here; in fact--_vamos_, as theSpaniards say. Go to Padre Antonio's house at once, " he continued. "It'sa sort of a sanctuary, you know; you'll be safe there to-day. If youvalue your life, don't set foot outside the place, and I'd even be charyabout picking flowers in the garden, " he added in his droll way. "To-night, José and I will have your horses ready and waiting for you inthe cañon at the foot of the trail which leads to the top of the _mesa_overlooking the valley. You must get away under cover of the duskbefore the moon rises. Old Manuela will give you the signal when todepart. "

"Dick, you are the most ingenious mortal in the world, " answered theCaptain. "You are as good as a mother to me. How did you ever think ofit?"

"Oh! don't thank me, " returned Dick. "I didn't think of it; I never haveany ideas. It's José's plan entirely. "

"The deuce! It does sound like you, _camarada_!" he ejaculated, turningto José who had smoked his _cigarillo_ in silence while listening toDick's words. "The scheme sounds well, " he continued after some moments'reflection. "And yet it seems to me you have overlooked something--themost important thing of all. "

"What?" asked Dick. 

"How are you going to get the horses there without attracting attention?It's just possible that the entire populace might escort you there andthen hang all four of us when Chiquita and I arrive. "

"Ah! I never thought of that, " replied Dick, flicking the ash from hiscigar and exchanging glances with José. "I always said you had theimagination of a poet, Jack. But it takes an Indian to think of suchthings; the horses are concealed already in the cañon, a quarter of amile from the trail. "

"_Si, Capitan. _ I took them there last night, " said José. 

"Last night?"

"Yes. You see, it was this way. I saw the fight last night--"

"You did?"

"_Si, Capitan. _ It was a glorious fight, the greatest fight I ever saw. I followed Don Felipe last night and surely would have killed him had Inot seen the Señorita draw her weapon. I knew that it was her right tokill him. "

"You observe José's exquisite sense of discrimination, " interruptedDick. "It's the etiquette of the land, " he added with a twinkle in hiseye, his face betraying not so much as the suggestion of a smile. Captain Forest could have laughed at Dick's irresistible humor were itnot for the terrible tragedy which rested heavily upon him. 

"Well, " continued José, "while you and the Señorita stood beside thebeautiful _Americana_, I bethought me that it was about time we wereleaving this place. You did not know that the two women, Manuela andJuana, and the Padre's gardener, Sebastiano, also witnessed theshooting. I told Sebastiano to get the Señorita's horse out of thestable at once and wait outside in the shadow of the wall on the farside of the garden until I returned. I then hurried back here and gotaway unobserved with our horses, picking up the Señorita's andSebastiano on the way to the cañon where I left them in the latter'scharge. They will hardly be missed to-day, I think, " he added; "theexcitement is too great. Go now quietly to Padre Antonio's and waitthere until Manuela gives you the word to depart. " José paused. Thencasting a quick glance about him, he took a fresh puff at his_cigarillo_ and said: "Until then, _á Dios_, Señor _Capitan_!" andassuming an indifferent air, as though nothing unusual had occurred, hesauntered quietly away. 

"That man's a genius!" said Dick, looking after him until he disappearedaround the corner of the house. 

"It was a lucky day for you when you picked him up. If you get away atall to-night, you'll owe your lives to him. Nothing but his wits couldhave saved you. You had better be going now, " he added. "Go directly tothe Padre's and attract as little attention as possible on the way. 

"_Este noche, amigo mio_--to-night, my friend, " he concluded in Spanish, and turning, lounged carelessly through the doorway into the house. 

XXXVII

"I hear nothing, " said José, rising from the ground where he had beenlying flat with his ear close to the earth. 

"They have given us up!" exclaimed the Captain, turning in the saddleand addressing Chiquita who also had been scanning their back trail inthe effort to discover a sign of their lost pursuers. 

"We have tired them out, " she answered, lowering her hand from her eyes. 

They had escaped--they were free. Padre Antonio had married them on theafternoon of the previous day. 

"If I am still alive, and God grant that it may be so, " he said onparting, "I shall see you next spring when I visit the Missions in theNorth. "

The flight had been a swift and perilous one. They had traveled theentire night and day, pausing only long enough to allow their horsesshort breathing spells and time to slake their thirst at the springs andstreams they encountered in their flight. Like their horses, all threewere thoroughly tired, and their clothes torn and dust begrimed. 

"We'll camp yonder, José, " said the Captain, pointing to a thick groupof pines that grew on the opposite side of the stream on whose bank theyhad halted. They had arrived at the foot of the Sierra Madres fromwhose side the stream burst and along whose banks their trail led tothe upper world where it dropped down again on the other side of thegreat mountainous divide into Sonora. 

"It's like the old days!" cried Chiquita, laughing as they splashedthrough the stream to the opposite bank, the water rising to theirsaddle-girths. Drawing rein at the outer rim of the pines, theydismounted and removed their saddles and packs, the latter consisting ofa pair of blankets apiece and a week's rations equally distributed amongthem; coffee, sugar, bacon, beans and flour and a few necessaryutensils. These they carried into the center of the grove and depositedin a circle on the ground. 

José led away the horses and while he was occupied in picketing them, the Captain gathered an armful of dry wood for the fire, and thenpicking up a canvas bucket, strolled to the river and filled it withwater. 

Chiquita had already lit the fire when he returned. She filled thecoffee pot with water, cut some slices of bacon and tossed them into apan which she placed on the fire and then began to mix some flour andwater. The Captain leaned against the trunk of one of the trees androlling a cigarette, lit it, watching her the while. Chiquita laughedsoftly, but said nothing while engaged in the process of bread-making. This homely touch of camp-life told plainer than words how thoroughlythey had come down to earth and again were facing the wholesomerealities of life. When the dough was of the right consistency, shemolded it into biscuits, placed them in a deep pan, and raking somecoals from the fire, set the pan upon them, also depositing some coalson the top of the cover. After giving the bacon a final turn in the pan, she set it to one side close to the fire where it would keep warm. 

She then rose to her feet and stood erect. As she did so, one of thegreat strands of her hair which had become loosened during their flight, fell in a soft curling mass of blue jet down her back to within a fewinches of her ankles. Captain Forest did not know then that it was asign of her royal lineage. 

Once upon a time in the dim past, so far back that nobody could rememberwhen it had occurred, a Tewana woman had given birth to a beautiful girlchild with wonderful hair in the same year that a wandering star with agreat tail had appeared in the heavens. The coincidence seemed nothingshort of miraculous to the people. The Sachems of the tribe pronouncedthe child to be consecrated and chosen to rule over them by the gods. Soit had been decreed, and ever since then, all Tewana women who had ruledover the people had possessed this distinctive mark of their royallineage and bore the name, "Flaming Star. "

Chiquita crossed over to where the Captain still stood leaning againstthe tree and, pausing before him, looked up into his face and said:"What are you thinking of, Sweetheart?" He flung his arms about her andkissed her. 

"I am still wondering, " he answered, "how it all happened. It seems sostrange, and yet so natural. "

"Just what I, too, have been thinking, " she returned. "And yet it is nomore remarkable than what our entire lives have been. It could not beotherwise. "

"No, " he replied. "I would not have it different for worlds. It's justas it should be--just as it has been decreed. "

"Come!" she said, leading him over to where her pack lay on the ground. "I've got something for you, " and kneeling on the ground, she beganunrolling her blankets, out of which she took a small package which, onbeing opened, contained two pairs of beautifully beaded moccasins; onepair of which she handed to him. 

"It's just like you, Chiquita _mia_!" he exclaimed. "I always wear themin camp, but in the hurry to get away, I forgot mine. I'm glad I forgotthem though, " he added, holding up the moccasins and admiring them. "Howdid you come to think of them?"

"I can't say, " she answered. "One afternoon about a month ago while atthe _Posada_, I noticed your footprint in the gravel path in the gardenwhere you had been talking to the girls but a few moments before. Things, as you know, were rather uncertain then, nevertheless, somethingimpelled me to take the measure and make them; thinking that possiblyyou might want them some day. Besides, it was such sweet work, youknow, " she added with a little laugh. 

"Chiquita--you're a wonderful woman! You not only seem to be able to doeverything, but you think of everything as well, " and kneeling on theground before her, he drew off her riding boots and slipped hermoccasins on her feet. 

"It is the bridal gift of an Indian girl to her husband, " she saidcaressingly. "And signifies that they shall tread the same path togetherthrough life. "

"What could be more beautiful!" he returned, pulling off his boots anddrawing on his own. "Ah!" he continued, "it was worth waiting for youChiquita _mia_! The long years of uncertainty and suffering seem asnothing, now that I look back upon them and you have come into my life. "

Just then José returned from the work of picketing the horses and thethree sat down to supper. 

XXXVIII

"Isn't it strange how easily one can return to the natural life if onehas known it before?" said Chiquita later in the evening, as the threelay stretched on their blankets around the small fire which José hadkindled in the center of the grove, and watched the flickering flamesand dancing shadows against the dark pine boughs surrounding them. 

"The life of yesterday has fallen from me, " she continued, gazingpensively into the fire whose red glare illumined her beautiful bronzefeatures. 

"Yes, you are an Indian once more, Chiquita _mia_, " said the Captain. 

"Ah! you are as much of an Indian as José or myself!" she retortedgayly. "What a pity you didn't know the life before the land wasconquered and tamed by the White man! Verily, a glory has passed fromthis earth!" A peculiar light shone in José's eyes as he listened to herwords. He seemed on the point of speaking, but did not. He smiled androlled a fresh _cigarillo_, lighting it with a pine twig which he tookfrom the fire. 

"Tell me why you insisted on our coming this way, Chiquita?" asked theCaptain, disposing himself comfortably on his blanket. 

"Because I want to see my people again. They are the strongest and mostadvanced people in Mexico, and we will be safe with them until thingshave quieted down. Because I wanted you to see where I came from and howI lived before Padre Antonio introduced me to a new world and made of mea woman that you could love. Besides, we can start from their country onour camping trip as well as from any other place. My people are notquite the savages you probably think them. But there is something else, "she continued after a pause. "I was impelled, drawn this way. Why, I cannot say, but something always kept pointing me toward the northwest. Ifeel as though the climax of our lives is yet to come; that we are onthe verge of something great; that our work in life may begin withthem. "

"Perhaps it may be so!" interrupted José, no longer able to conceal theagitation her words aroused in him. "That is, if the vision of the WhiteCloud prove to be true. At any rate, my people await your coming, " headded. At the mention of the White Cloud, Chiquita sat bolt upright, regarding José intently the while--then rose to her feet. 

"The White Cloud? Your people?" she repeated excitedly. "Then you are aTewana?" José also had risen from his sitting posture, and dropping onone knee with face downward and both arms extended straight out beforehim with the palms of the hands turned downward, he exclaimed in theTewana tongue: "Princess, Flaming Star--I greet you! I am Onakipo, thePine Tree, son of Ixlao, the Swan!" José's attitude and manner of speechformed a most striking picture. He had not even revealed his trueidentity to the Captain. 

Chiquita had noticed the furtive, stolen glances he had cast at her fromtime to time during the journey, a thing strange in an Indian, and itcaused her some uneasiness, but now she understood. He had justacknowledged her by his attitude of submission and the salute common tohis people, as their tribal head. 

"You and I, Princess, were the sole survivors of that last battle inwhich your father's band was annihilated, " continued José in Spanish, seating himself once more on the ground on the other side of the fireopposite Chiquita who again had taken her place beside the Captain. 

"I do not wonder that you did not recognize me, " he went on after apause, during which he rolled and lit a fresh _cigarillo_. "I was a mereboy at the time. The battle, you will remember, took place just beforesunset, and when the enemy charged our camp, I was struck on the head, as you see by the scar over my left eye. I fell over a ledge of rockinto a gully below, alighting in a thick clump of bushes, breaking myfall and saving my life. Fortunately the bushes concealed me from view, causing the enemy to overlook me, else they certainly had finished mebefore departing. I lay unconscious all that night until noon of thefollowing day, when I awoke. For a long time after awakening I was tooweak to rise, but finally I managed to crawl to the little stream thatran at the bottom of the gully just below me. There I slaked my thirstand washed my face and wound and bound it up as best I could. All thatafternoon I lay by the stream, drinking and dipping my head in the wateruntil evening, when I regained sufficient strength to crawl back to thetop of the great rock where we made our last stand. 

"There, a ghastly sight met my eyes. With his back against a largebowlder where the enemy had placed him, sat your father, the Whirlwind, still dressed in his war regalia and around him, just as they hadfallen, lay our dead comrades. I counted them. There were forty-eight inall, and as you were not among the dead, I rightly conjectured, as itsoon afterward proved, that you had been taken prisoner. Three weekslater I succeeded in reaching our people and told the news. A war partywas organized immediately, and I guided it back to the land of theIspali where after a battle, we learned of your capture and escape fromseveral of the Ispali whom we succeeded in capturing. 

"That was ten years ago, and ever since then, we have sent out runnerseach year to visit the towns and villages throughout the land in thehope of finding you and bringing you back again to rule over us; for asyou know, Princess, you are the last of the royal blood. But in vain. Inspite of the fact that the White Cloud, our great Sachem, said you werestill alive, that he repeatedly saw you among the living in his visionsand predicted your return, we found no trace of you. That was because wehad overlooked Santa Fé. It lies so far east of our country that itescaped our notice. We never imagined that you had crossed the SierraMadres in your flight, and had I not chanced to enter the Captain'sservice, we probably never would have heard of you again. 

"But now I understand that it was so intended--that the time was not yetripe. That the Great Spirit had ordained you should not return to yourpeople until you had become worthy of the charge which is about to beconferred upon you, and which, as you shall presently learn, goes toprove the truth of the subsequent prophecies the White Cloud madeconcerning you. " He paused and for some minutes gazed silently into thefire. He had accompanied his narrative with intense, dramatic gesturesand expressions illustrative of its incidents; a characteristic commonto his race. Presently a smile lit up his face and looking up once more, he resumed. 

"You remember, Princess, how the White Cloud counseled us to accept theterms of the Government, bad though they were, and make peace, andprophesied that disaster would befall us if we refused. Well, then asnow, events have proved the truth of his words. As the years went by andno further trace of you could be found, the people lost hope of everseeing you again and said you were dead. But the White Cloud maintainedthat you were still alive; that the day of your return was drawing evernearer; that he heard the song of birds and the sound of laughing watersand beheld the desert carpeted with flowers in his vision and you intheir midst coming towards them, which typified the renewal of life andrebirth of the nation. But when he announced that he always saw you inthe company of a white man who later should rule over us, they laughedat his prophecies. 

"'A white man rule over the Tewana? How absurd--impossible!' They shooktheir heads and said: 'The White Cloud is old--his vision has becomedim, impaired through age!'"

The Captain and Chiquita were too amazed by José's words to venture areply, and sat gazing alternately at one another and then at thespeaker. 

"When I first met the Captain, " continued José, "I wondered greatly whyI was so drawn toward him. True, he was a man to my liking and I wasdoubly grateful to him for saving my life, but that did not whollyaccount for my attachment. I was drawn to him irresistibly as by aninvisible power. I could not leave him; and when I again saw you, Princess, on the day that you and the beautiful Señorita met for thefirst time and heard from your own lips who you were as well as youravowal of love for my Master, I knew then that the White Cloud had readrightly the future; that my Master, the Grand Señor, had been chosen bythe Great Spirit to rule with you over our people. 

"It was then that I learned how you had come to Padre Antonio, afterwhich I returned to our people and told them what I knew; that I hadfound not only you, but also the White Chief whom the White Cloud hadseen in his vision, and that, if you returned to them at all, it wouldsurely be as his bride. At first they would not believe me, but when Ipersisted and reminded them of the disasters that had befallen us in thepast for our failure to heed the White Cloud's councils, they at lastyielded and called a grand council and decided to send a deputationcomposed of the leading men of the nation to verify my statements. 

"It was not so much the news that you were still alive that was sodifficult for them to believe, but that a white man should rule overthem--a thing impossible and past all belief; besides, they would nothave it. However, when I conducted the deputation, consisting of six ofour leading men, to Santa Fé and they secretly beheld you, Princess, they one and all exclaimed as with one breath: ''Tis she, thePrincess--the Flaming Star! How like her father, the Whirlwind, she is!'

"They wanted to disclose their identity to you then and there and exhortyou to return with them to your people, but I persuaded them to wait, reminding them that the White Cloud's prophecy was not yet entirelyfulfilled. I then showed you to them, Master, " he went on, addressingthe Captain, "and although they acknowledged that you were a magnificentspecimen of a man and had the appearance of one born to command, theyshook their heads and said it was impossible--that a White Chief couldnever rule over the Tewana. 

"'Of a truth, ' I answered, 'the black-robed Padres are right! You are astiff-necked people who persist in following in the footsteps of ourforefathers who, we all know, were unable to lead the people to thelight. Only the White Cloud was able to foresee the future; grasp thesignificance of both the Padres' and our ancient Sachems' teachings. That the old order of things had come to an end. That the time had comewhen strife must cease among men; that the tidings were now to befulfilled which the White Child with a face like the sun had brought tothe world, and whose coming our ancient Sachems had predicted in theancient days. Know also, that the Princess has seen the great worldwhich you have not seen; that in many ways she is more like a whitewoman than one of our race; that she is wiser than you are; that theGreat Spirit has shown her the things that are good for us, and if shebecomes the wife of the White Chief, you must accept him if you accepther, for without him she will never return to you. Besides, the WhiteChief is the wisest of us all. In his sight both we and most of the menof his own race are as children. '

"They could not find a fitting answer to my words and returned to ourpeople. Ever since then runners have been coming and going constantlybetween us. They have been apprised of our coming and await us. " Joséceased speaking and sat gazing meditatively into the fire where hewatched the pink and violet flames leap upward and lose themselves inthe thin wreath of white smoke which slowly ascended and floated awayover the tree tops. For some time no one spoke, then Captain Forestfinally broke the silence. 

"What you say, José, is truly wonderful; but know, that we have no moredesire to rule the Tewana than to rule other men. But should they, likethe rest of the world, fail to heed our example, they shall perish intheir ignorance. " He leaned forward and tossed some fresh sticks of woodon the fire. 

"It is time for the first watch, José, " he continued, rising to hisfeet and glancing up at the stars visible above the tree tops. "Call mewhen the Great Bear has half circled the Pole Star. I'll keep the secondwatch. "

XXXIX

José brought in the horses and he and the Captain saddled and packedthem; after which they silently broke camp in the light of the stars andthe waning moon. José took his place at the head of the littlecavalcade, Chiquita following him and the Captain bringing up the rear;he and Chiquita casting a last look at their first camp as they rodeaway. 

No one spoke. Save for the measured tread of the horses and noise of therushing stream along which the trail led upwards, no sounds disturbedthe silence of the night. Now and then an occasional spark, struck fromthe horses' iron-rimmed hoofs, flashed for an instant in the darknessalong the trail. 

The Captain's gaze was riveted upon Chiquita's tall, erect figure infront of him who ever and anon turned in the saddle and smiled, herbeautiful, lustrous eyes flashing like stars in the moon-fire. 

Higher and higher they mounted, pausing occasionally to allow the horsestime to draw breath, until they at length drew rein on the summit of theSierra Madres. Here a wonderful sight met their eyes, poised as theywere upon the rim of the earth and gazing off into star-strewn space. Dawn was just breaking, suffusing the long line of the eastern horizonwith a soft, rosy glow which crept swiftly towards them over thegray-green, purple plains that swept away from the mountains' base likevast undulating stretches of ocean; the golden shafts of the on-comingdawn driving the paling stars before them like a shepherd his flocks tothe hills. North and south, as far as the eye could reach, stretched thebroken and many crested length of the great Sierra Madre range; itssides clothed with dark forests of cedar and pine and chaparral, itssecluded recesses obscured in the gloom; its highest peaks glowing withgolden, pink and violet tints. In the west, surrounded by a host ofgolden stars that still glittered in the purple black depths ofvanishing night, the silver moon hung half-way dipped as it slowly sankbehind the towering crest of the Sahuaripa range, an isolated spur ofthe Sierra Madres. A vast plain intervened between them and the distantSierras at whose foot dwelt the Tewana. 

Far below them, from out the shadowy depths on either side of the range, arose faint sounds of awakening life. The breeze began to sigh among thetree tops, while high above them they heard the wild scream of eaglesthat soared in great circles with widespread pinions in their morningflight to greet the sun. Great waves of indefinable melody, more subtleand exquisite than music, swept over them, causing their souls toquicken and tingle in the freshening dawn as the Day Star rose to holdagain his sway over earth. His mighty splendor and effulgence sweptthrough and over them, their souls vibrating with renewed life and vigoras they felt and recognized God's sign and immanence as in the dayswhen man first walked with Him in the cool of the morning. 

They realized that they had entered upon the new life. The promise wasfulfilled--the veil was lifted. The scroll of human destiny seemed tounroll itself from out the dim traditions of the past, and they beheldas in a dream the life that was when first the children of men roamedthe earth and established the Kingdom of God which was intended from thebeginning. In the picture of the golden childhood of the race, theybeheld reflected in the new light of the future, the vision of theemancipated, delivered man, guided by the lessons still to be learnedfrom the great Book of Nature lying open before him, and the accumulatedwisdom of past ages, handed down to him by his forefathers throughtravail and suffering and in legend and song from those ancient days ofsuns and nights of stars when the earth and man were young. A freebornrace of men who are joint tenants of the soil, sharing all things incommon with which their bountiful Mother, the Earth, has provided them. A race of men, athletic in body as they are able in mind, and spiritualand courageous, recognizing no laws but those of Nature's or God's. 

In silence and with bared heads they gazed upon the grandeur of thescene that lay spread out before them. It was as though they looked backupon the old life from another world. It lay so far behind them that itseemed but a memory; not a vestige of it clung to them, so filled werethey with new hopes and aspirations. 

"Behold!" cried José excitedly, pointing toward the west. And looking inthe direction indicated by his outstretched arm, they beheld in the dimdistance numerous columns of smoke rising heavenward in the clearmorning air from the tops of the _mesas_ that dotted the plain. 

"'Tis the sign of your coming, Princess!" he continued. "The people havebowed to the will of the White Cloud--acknowledged the authority of theWhite Chief. "

Parrakeets began to twitter among the branches of the trees on everyhand during their descent of the western slope. Ravens croaked andcalled from the heart of the forest, and the owl flitted by on silentwing. Black birds with orange heads and throats and splashed withscarlet on their wings, greeted them at the foot of the mountain amongthe reeds which grew along the stream they were following. Deer brokefrom the willow copse and bounded away, while grouse rose on whirringwings from under the horses' hoofs as they emerged upon the plain wherethe wild cry of the curlew rang clear and sharp on the morning. Theywere free and breathed deep of the spirit of freedom; listened to theold primeval song of nature's myriad voices; gazed long upon thepristine loveliness of earth. 

All that day and the three following, the columns of smoke continued torise heavenward as they pursued their journey. At night, pillars of firetook the place of the smoke, and all the while, save for an occasionalglimpse in the distance of a solitary horseman who faded specterlikefrom view on their approach, they saw not a soul. 

The Spirit of the Great Mystery brooded over the land, and they rode asin a dream. The fragrant cedar and piñon-scented smoke mingled with thesoft, thin haze of the Indian summer which veiled the land in its goldenglow of mystery; the sacred incense, the Red men say, of the gods, burned on their altars in ancient days; a sign to the people to gathereach year on the hilltops and _mesas_, and in the forests and plainsduring the moon of falling leaves, and celebrate in prayer and sacreddance and song, the advent of the gods. 

The wind was hushed and all things seemed to sleep and dream, and theyseemed to draw nearer to the heart of things. The great change that hadcome into their lives was, after all, no more wonderful than the changeswhich they saw had taken place in nature about them. A luxuriant growthof tropical vegetation, succeeded by vast forests of conifers, a remnantof which still survived upon the mountains, once flourished in thesemi-desert through which they traveled. An occasional broken, half-buried pillar, or the remains of a crumbling wall that hadwitnessed the passing of the ages and listened to the tales borne on thewinds, marked the existence of vanished civilizations of which mento-day know naught. All things appeared to change and fade, nothingseemed permanent, not even the ideal; the morrow was but a forgetting. 

Beneath them they felt the Earth, ponderous and weighty and crushing inits immensity to the imagination, and whose existence seemed of littlemoment in comparison to the countless worlds that filled the universeabout them. Yet, insignificant though it appeared, was it not a link inthe great universal scheme of matter, and did it not stand in the samerelation to the universe as their individual lives to the human race?

Like two stars their souls had rushed together from the uttermostconfines of space. She had been led into his world, and he compelled toretrace his steps to almost primitive conditions in order that theymight find one another and together take up the thread of their commondestiny. Clearly, they were children of destiny upon whose brows God hadset His seal. They realized that the path which lay before them was notone entirely strewn with flowers. That between the chosen ones, lifemeant something more than the love of a man for a woman, or a woman'sfor a man. That they still stood with their feet in the flame; thatearth's cup of joy for them must still remain one of bitter-sweet; thatthey must go on to the end in order that men might see and hear; thatthe new order of things must spring from them. 

Gay was the Princess. She laughed and talked and related incidents ofher life and her people; the silvery tinkle of the bells on her spurs, accompanying every movement of her horse, chimed sweetly with her mood. In the raven folds of her blue-black hair, she wore again the redberries as on the day when first he beheld her. She seemed a part ofthat tawny landscape, splashed with great patches of crimson and goldand gray and purple--the spirit and incarnation of the Indian summer. 

As he gazed upon her and listened to her words, the wild refrain ofthose familiar lines recurred to him:

 "I will wed some savage woman; she shall rear my dusky race: Iron-jointed, supple-sinewed, they shall dive and they shall run, Catch the wild goat by the hair, and hurl their lances in the sun, Whistle back the parrot's call, --leap the rainbows of the brooks, --"

The woman of the ages had come back again. Lilith and Eve and Isis andVenus, the foam-kissed, and Erda, the dreaming one. The vision of theancient world rose before him; virgin forests and plains and mightyrivers and mountains; the ancient temples of the Nile and the Ganges, Hellas' fanes and Druidic monoliths and sacred groves, and voices ofstrange peoples mingled with the soft notes of reed and lute. 

Within the unending circle of life and death, of love and hatred, of joyand sorrow and remorse which mark the rise and passing of thecivilizations, he beheld the sacred ash and pine, and starry lotusafloat upon the face of moonlit waters in which were mirrored the palmand papyrus and acanthus, and stood face to face with the serpent andwolf, the winged horse and sphinx, and the dragon and the griffin whentheir secret origins and significance were known unto men. The sounds ofharps and cymbals and lyres and timbrels blended with those ofconch-shells and antelope horns. Sighs and laughter and curses andweeping mingled with the wild strains of Homeric song and mystic ritesof Chaldea and Babylon, and the sacred chant of Isis. The Voodoo dancedto the rattle of shells and antelope hoofs before the shrines ofEthiopia's dark woman, crowned with the sickle moon, and vast multitudesknelt and lay prostrate before the car of Juggernaut and the passingimage of Pracriti of Asia, the many-breasted, the Goddess of Abundance. 

Sun and Fire worshipers tore the hearts and scalps from living victimsand held them aloft to the rising sun, and men and wild beasts fought inarenas amid the acclamations of the people. 

He beheld the milk-white bullocks of the Druid, garlanded with flowers, heading the procession that entered the dark groves in search of thesacred mistletoe-bearing oak; the processions of Pan and Odin, and Sivaand Vishnu and Baal, and Venus and Bacchus. Nymphs and fauns and dryadsand hamadryads called from the depths of the forest, and youths andmaidens and shepherds with vine-wreathed brows danced in the sunlitglades and on the hills where the white flocks roamed, to the plaintivenotes of the mystic pipes of Pan. He beheld the flaunting banners andflashing steel of victorious hosts and heard the wild, weird chants ofwandering, barbaric hordes that conquered and destroyed. The flash androar of artillery of recent times but intensified the gloom that broodedover the world. The struggle was unending. Men still remained thevictims and slaves of passion and desire. Their sighs and curses andgroans and cries of hatred and despair increased with the years; thesmoke of their torment blackened the face of the sun. 

The waves of human harmony and discord swept over him like the sounds ofmighty rushing winds and waters, and he beheld the race to-day, as inthe past, in the plains and on the high tops, prostrate and erect withhands outstretched toward the heavens, crying for release. And yetthrough it and beneath it and above it all, he heard a ringing note oftriumph that swelled onward and upward until the vision shone clear, andthe true import of their lives stood revealed. They had overcome theworld; broken the fiery chains of desire. 

The heavens of the old world rolled together like a scroll, and the sunand the moon and the stars and the earth fell into the burning sea ofman's worldliness, but out of the chaos that followed, the earth emergedonce more, green and beautiful, and grain waved upon its face, and thevoice of the Angel rang clear, crying aloud and mightily:

"Babylon the Great is fallen, is fallen! Babylon, the woman mounted uponthe scarlet beast and arrayed in purple and scarlet color and deckedwith gold and precious stones and pearls, and having a golden cup in herhand full of abominations. .. . Babylon upon whose forehead is written, 'Mystery, Babylon the Great, the Mother of Harlots and Abominations ofthe Earth. ' Babylon drunk with wine and the blood of those who stood forthe truth. Babylon, of whose wine and delights all men have drunk andwith whom all the nations of the Earth have committed fornication. Babylon whose sins have reached unto heaven; who hath glorified herselfand lived deliciously and who said in her heart: 'I sit a queen, and amno widow, and shall know no sorrow; my joy shall continue forever!'

"Her plagues shall come in one day, death and mourning and famine, andshe shall be utterly burned with fire. And the kings and the rulers ofearth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the mighty men, and thechief Captains, and the bondsmen, and the free-men who have liveddeliciously with her and who bear the mark of the beast in their handsand upon their foreheads shall bewail her and lament for her, crying:

"'Alas, alas that great city Babylon, that mighty city!'

"And the merchants of the earth shall weep and mourn over her; for noman buyeth their merchandise any more: The merchandise of gold andsilver and precious stones, and of pearls and fine linen, and purple, and silk and scarlet, and all thyine wood, and all manner vessels ofivory, and all manner vessels of most precious wood, and of brass andiron and marble. And cinnamon, and odours, and ointments, andfrankincense, and wine, and oil, and fine flour, and wheat, and beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, and slaves, and souls of men. .. . 

"The fruits that thy soul lusted after are departed from thee, and allthings which were dainty and goodly are departed from thee, and thoushalt find them no more at all. The merchants of these things which weremade rich by her shall stand afar off . .. Weeping and wailing andsaying: 'Alas, alas that great city, that was clothed in fine linen andpurple and scarlet, and decked with gold and precious stones andpearls. .. . ' And every ship master and all the company in ships, andsailors, and as many as trade by sea . .. Shall cry when they see thesmoke of her burning, saying: 'What city is like unto this great city?'And they shall cast dust on their heads, and weeping and wailing, cry:'Alas, alas that great city, wherein were made rich all that had shipsin the sea by reason of her costliness!'

"Babylon, Babylon, thine idols and graven images of gods shall be castdown and shattered utterly and forever! The voice of harpers, andmusicians, and of pipers, and trumpeters shall be heard no more at allin thee; and no craftsman of whatsoever craft he be shall be found anymore in thee; and the sound of a millstone shall be heard no more at allin thee; and the light of a candle shall shine no more at all in thee;and the voice of the bridegroom and of the bride shall be heard no moreat all in thee; for thy merchants were the great men of the earth; forby thy sorceries were all nations of the earth deceived!"

Babylon, Babylon, thou fair city, thou proud world, thou wonderfulemanation of men's minds, thou fair wanton, thou beauteous licentiousharlot of gold and gems, and white linen, and silks, and of henna, andmyrrh, and frankincense, and sweet-smelling herbs, no more shall thysons and daughters rejoice in thee and worship thee! Thy grass shall bewithered and thy fig trees shall cast their figs, and thy gold andsilver, and thy diamonds, and rubies, and sapphires, and turquoise, andemeralds, and opals, and pearls, and topaz, shall lie scattered and inheaps for him to take who wisheth them, but none shall desire them. 

No more shall thy daughters sit in the shadow of thy vines where nesteththe dove, and glorify thee in idle jest and laughter and song, andlongingly wait for the coming of the night, for they shall be bereft oftheir silks, and their girdles, and anklets, and bracelets of gold andjewels. Thy songs and pæans of triumph and victory shall cease with thetainted stream of thy desires, and the walls of thy temples shallcrumble to dust. Thy stars shall pale, and the sun and the moon shallillumine thee no longer, for the day approacheth when thy blandishmentsshall fail to allure. 

Babylon, Babylon, thou proud city, thou who sitteth upon many waters, thou whose sway encompasseth the earth, how hast thou fallen!

XL

On the afternoon of the fifth day they drew rein on a high, shelving, terracelike stretch of ground overlooking a broad valley, and almostopposite the chief Tewana village which nestled at the foot of theSahuaripa range, running north and south until lost on the horizon. 

Back of the village a cataract flung itself downward over the mountain'sside into the valley, its clouds of spray reflecting innumerable rainbowtints in the sunshine. Great forests, abounding in wild animal life, clothed the mountain's slopes. 

It was a peaceful, fruitful valley upon which they gazed; the land whereChiquita formerly dwelt. The grass grew knee-deep in the meadows. Willows and water-birch and sycamore and alders and poplars, interspersed with pines and oaks, grew in clusters along the banks ofthe broad, rushing stream that ran between them and the distant villagewhose low, vine-clad walls glowed golden and rose and purple and gray inthe rays of the afternoon sun. The diminutive city was a mass of treesand foliage and seemed a part of the landscape; so small were the housesand so harmonious its setting. Fields of flax and melons, and beans andsquash, and corn and tobacco, and small orchards and vineyards alreadyharvested, dotted the valley close to the meadows which bordered thetree-fringed stream. Herds of horses and cattle and flocks of sheep andgoats, intermingled with wild herds of deer and antelope, browsed on themeadows and slopes above the river where they stood. Wild ducks andgeese and swan swam in the river, and grouse and wild turkeys and quailand plover roamed the forests and uplands. There was no promiscuouskilling of wild animals allowed among the Tewana; they were shared incommon like the domesticated animals. Innumerable canoes, used forfishing, were drawn up on the banks of the river. 

The Tewana were an independent, self-supporting people. At all seasonsof the year were heard the sounds of the hand-loom and the smith'sanvil--the fashioners of iron and precious metals. The weavers of clothand baskets, and potters and tanners fashioned their wares in the openin the shade of their walls and trees. 

The life these people led, free from the harassing cares and anxietiesof the White man, was almost ideal. During the spring and summer monthsthey tended their fields, and after the harvests were gathered in theautumn and the surplus produce stored in public granaries, they engagedin the chase; hunting only with the bow and spear--camping in the open, in the forests and plains until the advent of winter. During the ensuingmonths, until the coming of spring, the children were instructed bytheir parents in the industrial arts; taught the traditions of theirpeople, and how to read and write, and to observe the courses of thestars and to forecast the weather and predict the nature of the seasons. With the coming of the seedtime, they entered the fields with theirelders and learned to sow and tend and reap the crops. 

Thus, by the time the child had attained the age of sixteen, he wasthoroughly conversant with all that was necessary to meet the demands oflife. He became an independent, self-supporting unit, while his constantcontact with nature not only revealed the latter's secrets and the lawsgoverning natural phenomena, but developed him physically andspiritually as only nature can. All orphaned children were adopted bythe different families, and consequently, there were no outcasts or poorand ignorant among the people. 

Every house was surrounded by a small plot of ground sufficient tosupply the family with fruit, poultry, grain and vegetables; from two tothree acres in extent. Their herds were held in common and permitted torun at will like the deer; requiring but little care. 

The Tewana only produced enough to feed and clothe themselves. The useof money was forbidden among them, and trade and barter limitedpractically to the individual who, desiring something particular fromhis neighbor, procured the latter an equivalent in return. 

They regarded material things as merely a means to an end, andconsidered it a disgrace for any one to accumulate wealth; for it wasnoted that one's spiritual development declined in the same ratio thathis material possessions increased. Like the land, they held the forestsand minerals and waters and animals in common. These were the sacredthings, the gift of nature, and could not be bartered or sold. In theireyes, only the depraved soul of a peddler ever could have conceived theidea of turning them into merchandise. Naturally it had taken centuriesof evolution to create this attitude--but they had attained. There was, however, no need of wealth. Since they enjoyed the earth's naturalresources in common, there was enough and an abundance for all; placingthe high and the low on a footing of material equality. 

Four months' energetic labor was all that was required to produce theannual necessities of life, allowing the individual the greater portionof his days to devote to the development of his natural capacities. There were no idlers, the women sharing the responsibilities of life thesame as the men. All contributed their services to that which wasrequired for the good of the community; the maintenance of aqueducts androads in the towns and the guarding of the herds. Aside from theseslight duties, the individual was free to follow the bent of hisdesires. Those who refused to contribute such services were driven fromthe community and became nomads, but such instances were rare; allpreferring to enjoy the benefits which civilization, combined with thegreatest amount of liberty, bestowed upon the individual. 

Opposite the chief _pueblo_, on the same side of the river occupied bythemselves, stood the ruins of another town in a fair state ofpreservation. It differed greatly in appearance from the one opposite. It was compactly built, resembling more a modern Mexican town than thepure type of Indian _pueblo_. In answer to the Captain's inquiriesconcerning it, Chiquita smiled and said: "Originally there were sixty_pueblos_, averaging from two to three thousand inhabitants each; thenumber of inhabitants to which the size of our towns are limited. Owingto the new ideas that were introduced among us by the priests andtraders that were permitted to visit us from time to time, many of ourpeople sought to establish a new order of things; like that prevailingthroughout the greater part of the world to-day. But in order that I maymake clear what I am about to say, I must first tell you, that theTewana are as quick to recognize and encourage talent and genius as werethe ancient Greeks--that there are many artists among my people who havedeveloped their arts to a high degree of perfection--poets, painters, sculptors and musicians. 

"These artists, especially, became imbued with the new ideas, andinstead of continuing to create for art's sake only, as had been thecustom of their fathers, embellishing their houses and articles of usewith their artistic creations, or spreading their poetry and music andnational sagas abroad after the manner of the Minnesingers of old, they, with the others who had become affected, began to adopt new customs--tobuild churches and temples in which to worship and preserve their arts, and sought to introduce money and taxation and all that they entailamong the people in order that the new institutions might be maintained. 

"The disaffection became widespread, affecting about half the people. The White Cloud and my father did all in their power to persuade therenegades, as they were called, to return to the old ways again;maintaining that God dwelt in the open, not in temples, and that theworks of man which entailed the burden of taxation for theirmaintenance, depriving man of his freedom, were not worth retaining. That it was not economy, but extravagance to maintain them, and anunnecessary waste of energy; for the instant man, in his materialevolution, goes beyond the procuring of the necessities of life, hebecomes immeshed in the creations of his own world and a slave to them. But in vain. They refused to listen to the wisdom of their words andonly laughed in answer to their pleadings. Whereupon, the most terriblebattles ensued; costing the lives of fifty thousand of our best fightingmen and women; for among us, the women, like the men, are warriors, andquite as capable of self-defense. They likewise take part in all ourgames. In fact, they receive the same training in all things as the menin order that they may be equally fitted to bear the responsibilities ofcitizenship. 

"Our women are trained for battle, not particularly to make warriors ofthem, but for the same reason that the Greeks placed athletics beforeall else. Not that they considered athletics superior to the other artsand sciences, but without physical perfection, they realized there couldbe no proper mental poise, no balance between mind and body. When yousee our youth, our young men and women, contest for the honors in ourgames and military exercises you'll realize the truth of this. Theentire nation gathers together once a year to witness these sports andexercises and judge the skill of the contestants. No Olympic games eversurpassed them. You shall see wonderfully beautiful men and women, theresult of their training. Men and women who grow naturally from theground up, like the tree or the flower. Believe me, your people don'tknow what it is to really live, to taste of the true joys of life; theyonly exist. 

"Owing to the terrific loss we sustained during the rebellion, we wereforced to make terms with the Mexican Government and pay an annualtribute like the rest of her people. It was my first introduction tobattle. I don't think I shall ever forget those terrible days ofslaughter. No quarter was shown, for we knew that defeat meant theextermination of our race. There ought to be about a hundred thousand ofus left, " she continued. "Twenty _pueblos_, in all were destroyed, andmay their ruins long continue to stand as monuments of the folly ofmen!"

"But how about your schools and hospitals and asylums and prisons?"asked the Captain. 

"Men who lead natural lives have no need of such things, " she answered. "Nature is all sufficient and has provided all things for man's properdevelopment. The man or woman who can not instruct a child in the thingsthat are worth knowing and necessary to meet the demands of life, is abarbarian and only half civilized. Once a man becomes civilized, thecivilizing process ends. A man's spiritual growth is not dependent uponhis inventions, his sciences or his arts, but is a thing apart frommental growth. If this were not so, his hope of ultimate deliverancewould be a delusion. Contagious diseases were unknown to us untilintroduced among us by white men. As for criminals, they are very rareamong us. When all men have an equal opportunity in life there is noincentive to commit crime. Acts that are the result of sudden fits ofpassion, are not the acts of criminals, but the righting of a supposedwrong done the individual. But even these are rare. Should any onetransgress the law, he is punished, not imprisoned. Only a fool would goto the trouble and expense of keeping a man imprisoned. A delinquent ispunished so severely that he will not transgress the law a second time;for a second serious offense against society is punished usually withdeath. From what I have told you, you can gather that we are not thesavages the world imagines men to be who lead a natural existence. Youcan see how easily we, with our knowledge and theirs, could lead them tothe light. "

"Is there nothing between the picture your people present and the worldwe know?"

"Nothing! What else could there be? After the final appraisement ofthings has been taken and they have been weighed in the balance andadjudged, this is the condition that must confront mankind, for no othercondition offers man such unlimited scope for the development of hishigher nature. What you see is the true picture of the delivered man. The Golden Age, or the Garden of Eden is no myth. Men once were free andremained so until they gave way to desire and established for themselvesa world of delusion in which there is no permanency either of thought orpossession. The traditions of all nations and all peoples, from timeimmemorial, tell of this state when men were free. They also predictthe destruction of present-day society. The Utopias and Golden Agesdepicted by poets and dreamers, though beautiful to dwell upon in fancy, are of the tissue of dreams. They will not bear analysis. They aremerely other names for different forms of bondage; the same old romanticfallacies which we are forever meeting in works of fiction. "

"And how long shall the world we know continue until the newdispensation comes to pass?"

"Until men overcome the fear of death! Then shall they be born anew andcome into their rightful heritage. Then shall they grasp the spiritualsignificance of the Golden Age as voiced by the Prophet: When first thefoundations of the Earth were laid; when the morning stars sang togetherand all the Sons of God shouted for joy, for we are they!"

XLI

On either side of the village, forming a vast semicircle, stoodinnumerable lodges and hogans, temporary structures erected by theinhabitants of the other villages, who had come to show homage to thePrincess and the White Chief, as the Captain was called. 

While gazing in the direction of the village which was too far distantfor them to distinguish more than an indistinct outline of objects, theybeheld two dark columns of horsemen issue forth from the center of thegreat semicircle of lodges and move slowly in their direction. Chiquitaguessed their meaning. As a child she had witnessed the ceremony whenher father, the Whirlwind, was proclaimed Chief of the nation. 

Without pausing, they came trailing across the valley in two separatecolumns, thousands of horsemen and women, the men on the right hand, thewomen on the left; all riding bareback with simple _riatas_ twistedaround the horse's lower jaw. Save for their sandals and the skins ofthe panther and ocelot and jaguar, the Mexican leopard, which they woreclasped at the left shoulder by a golden, jeweled clasp, and which felldiagonally down across the body to the right knee, leaving the arms andshoulders and the greater part of the body bare and the left leg exposedto the hip, the women were as naked as the men who wore sandals andloin-skins only. Heavy clasps and bracelets and girdles of gold andsilver, set with pearls and opals, and turquoise and topaz, and emeraldsand sapphires, adorned their arms and waists. 

Among the Tewana there was no distinction in authority between man andwoman. Like the Amazons of old, the women carried long steel-tippedlances and shields and bows and quivers of arrows slung across theirbacks as did the men. The head of each Cacique or Chieftain of a hundredwarriors or Amazons was adorned with a circlet of gold with a clasp ofprecious stones on the left side of the head holding a single eagle'sfeather that slanted downward across the left shoulder. 

On they came, the half-wild horses prancing and plunging and snortingand neighing, their manes and the long black hair and braids of the menand women flying in the breeze; the lance tips and jewels and theirnaked, bronze bodies flashing and glistening in the sun; a wonderful, wild, picturesque, barbaric pageant, a voice from the past; magnificentspecimens of manhood and womanhood; free men, exemplifying the fullnessof life--the life that is worth living. The jewels and precious metalswhich they wore represented incredible wealth, but were regarded by themas objects of beauty only, for these were the Tewana, the people, whofor the sake of freedom, had trampled material wealth under foot; hadheld Montezuma in check and resisted the encroachments of the Spaniardever since the days of Cortez, knowing themselves to be a superiorpeople and of more ancient origin. 

A wild, weird chant that rolled and swelled in great undulatory waves ofmelody down the long lines of warriors, was borne to them on the breeze. The whole valley was filled with the song, the hills and mountains, reverberating and resounding, echoed back the refrain. 

"'Tis the ancient chant of the kings!" explained Chiquita. "Of course weno longer go to war thus. Nevertheless, it is the ancient rite that mustbe performed so long as the Tewana remain a nation. "

Nearer and nearer drew the advancing host, the volume of sound swellingand increasing, until splashing through the river and sweeping up theslope to where they stood, the leaders drew rein before them, andraising their lances on high, a mighty shout burst from the throats ofthe warriors, interrupting the song. Again and again the valley andmountains echoed and reverberated with the prolonged shouts andacclamations until the chant was taken up once more. 

An eagle with widespread wings soared above them in the blue of heavenand seemed to accompany them as they swept along between the lines inthe direction of the village; each company of warriors and Amazons, without interrupting the chant, raising their lances in salute as theypassed. There was no doubt in the minds of the Tewana regarding CaptainForest's ability to rule as they gazed upon the man and the horse herode. He was as tall and deep chested as the Whirlwind, while hispiercing, hawklike gaze and face shone with the strength anddetermination of one born to command. The Chestnut tossed his greatwhite mane in the air and neighed and plunged and curveted between thelines. 

Truly the White Cloud had read the future well--the White Chief had comewith the Princess. 

On they rode, the song and acclamations of the warriors ringing in theirears, their gaze now scanning the faces of these wonderful people, nowlifted heavenward to the eagle which floated overhead and continued toaccompany them. Their souls thrilled with the exquisite joy of livingwhich the scene and the surroundings inspired in them. A scene which menhave dreamed of during moments of spiritual uplift, and have longed tobehold and imitate and become a part of, and escape from the sordidnessand pettiness of mundane existence and live the life of men where lifeis life and every breath is freedom; where the desire to live isdominant and the future holds no terrors, and each new day and sun andmoon and procession of the stars are greeted with the joy that is bornof living and hailed as emblems of the creative force that marks andanimates the passing of the seasons. 

At the end of the lines, on a slight eminence before the village, infront of a great gathering of aged men and women and children, stood thetall, erect figure of an ancient warrior and patriarch with long, snow-white hair that fell over his shoulders. Like the Amazons, he wasclad in a jaguar's skin held in place by a golden girdle and claspsstudded with jewels, and wore sandals on his feet. A circlet of goldwrought with runic symbols, to the left side of which was attached araven's wing, encircled his head, while in his right hand he held along willow staff or wand to which were attached seven eagle feathersthat fluttered in the breeze. 

It was the great Sachem, the White Cloud. A hundred winters sat upon hisclear, broad arching brow, and yet the years seemed to rest lightly uponhim. His benign, beaming countenance shone with an almost supernaturalradiance that bespoke the gift of the seer. Without altering hisposition, he quietly signed to Chiquita and the Captain to dismount andapproach. Meanwhile the warriors had gathered in a great semicircle infront of them. For some time the White Cloud continued to gaze at themin silent scrutiny, his large, dark, piercing eyes roving fromChiquita's face to the Captain's, in the seeming effort to fathom theirthoughts and the very depths of their souls, as though to reassurehimself of the truth of his prophecy. 

"It is done. You have come at last, my children--the prophecy isfulfilled!" he began at length. Then, raising the staff which he held inhis right hand and pointing directly upward to where the eagle continuedto soar in great circles, he cried in a deep sonorous voice that allmight hear: "Behold the sacred bird, God's sign and symbol; the sacredwitness to the consecration of His chosen ones! For was it not writtenin the ancient runes that, after the coming of the White Child with aface like the sun, the ancient spirit of Hiawatha, the Red Man'sMessiah, would revisit the world of men once more upon the back of aneagle to verify the truth of those words uttered by the White Child?

"Since the dawn of man's birth the centuries have waited for this day!Henceforth, " he continued, addressing the Captain, "you shall be knownunto all men as Soaring Eagle, the Winged Spirit! And you, Flaming Star, as the Giver of Life!" Then, planting the wand upright in the groundbetween them, he bade them take hold of it; Chiquita with the left handand the Captain with the right, his hand above hers. 

"By the power and sacred symbolism represented by this staff, " hecontinued, "I invest you both with the supreme authority. And further, Icall all men to witness that, the hand of Soaring Eagle rests above thatof the Giver of Life, which signifies that his word shall outweigh allothers in the Councils of the People. " He ceased speaking and turned tothe Captain as if awaiting his reply. 

A prolonged silence ensued, during which the latter's gaze swept thevast conclave of horsemen and forest of lances that glittered in thesunlight and the wild mountains beyond which towered above the valleyand had looked down upon the Tewana in the ancient days when _his_ racewas in the cradle of its infancy. Beside him stood the beauteous womanwho seemed endowed with all the wit and graces the poets of the ages hadattributed to the ideal woman. An inspiring, uplifting spectacle, farsurpassing in its reality the vision of his dreams. 

He had attained the goal. The responsibility had been laid upon him, andwithout hesitation he accepted the charge, and spake; his words beingtranslated by Chiquita, were repeated in turn to the multitude by theWhite Cloud. 

"Tewana, we accept the charge which you have imposed in us, " he beganquietly. "But understand, we come not to rule you; we come to guide you. It is time that you should learn to rule yourselves. 

"The days of rulers have passed. Woe unto them that seek to rule, andwoe unto the people that bows its neck to rulers! The message which wehave come to deliver unto you, we deliver likewise unto all men and itshall go forth unto the uttermost confines of the earth. " He paused, then raising his voice on high once more, he continued:

"Tewana, do you accept the terms? We come to guide you, not to ruleyou!"

A profound silence followed his speech. No sound was heard save thesighing of the wind among the warriors' lance tips and shields and theirarrow-filled quivers, and the rustling of the seven eagle feathersattached to the White Cloud's staff. 

"Tewana, " he asked again. "Do you accept the terms?"

Again all was silence. Then, all of a sudden, a vibrant, ringing note, audible to all, the scream of the eagle, came floating downward, clearand bell-like, from out the sky. 

"'Tis the warning voice of the bird; the wisdom of the Ancient Ones!"cried the White Cloud. "The spirit of the Great Mystery has spoken oncemore!

"We accept--we accept!" And seizing the staff with his right hand, heraised it and made the sign of the cross above their heads. Then turningand facing the warriors, he raised the staff on high once more and criedin a loud voice:

"Tewana, earth-born Children of the Sun, salute your Chieftains!" Amighty shout went up from the entire multitude. Ten thousand bow-stringstwanged on the air, and ten thousand arrows flew upward toward the sun. 

Again and again the shouts of acclamation broke from the assembledmultitude and swept over them in great waves of sound until valley andhills and mountains resounded with the cry, and then the people againtook up the ancient chant of the kings whose refrain, filling thevalley, swelled ever outward and upward to the great sacred bird thatsoared high aloft with widespread pinions in the pale azure of heaven. 

"It is done--it is done!" echoed and reëchoed the refrain. Few there areto whom the vision has been given, and fewer still that heed it. 

 THE END

Transcriber's note:

Minor typographical corrections are documented in the associatedHTML version.