g in its allurements. Especially to the
excitable, high-strung Harris, whose great eyes almost popped from his
head at the continuous display of tropical marvels, and whose
exclamations of astonishment and surprise, enriched from his
inexhaustible store of American slang and miner's parlance, burst from
his gaping mouth at every turn of the sinuous trail. From the outset,
he had constituted himself Carmen's special protector, although
much to Rosendo's consternation, for the lank, awkward fellow, whose
lean shoulders bent under the weight of some six-feet-two of
height, went stumbling and tripping along the way, swaying against
every tree and bush that edged the path, and constantly giving noisy
vent to his opinions regarding trails in general, and those of the
tropics in particular. His only accouterment was a Winchester
rifle of tremendous bore, which he insisted on carrying in constant
readiness to meet either beasts of prey or savage Indians, but
which, in his absent-mindedness and dreamy preoccupation, he
either dragged, muzzle up, or carried at such dangerous angles that
the natives were finally obliged, in self-protection, to insist
that he hand the weapon over to Rosendo. To Carmen, as the days
passed and she gradually recognized his sterling qualities, he
became a source of delight. Hour after hour she trotted along after
him, chatting merrily in her beloved English tongue, poking fun at
his awkwardness, and laughing boisterously over his quaint slang and
naive Yankee expressions. She had never heard such things from Jose;
nor had the priest, despite his profound knowledge, ever told her
such exciting tales as did Harris, when he drew from his store of
frontier memories and colored his narratives with the rich tints
furnished by his easy imagination.

The first day out had been one of mental struggle for the girl. She
had turned into the trail, after waving a last farewell to Jose, with
a feeling that she had never experienced before. For hours she trudged
along, oblivious of her environment, murmuring, "It isn't true--it
isn't true!" until Harris, his curiosity aroused by the constant
repetition which floated now and then to his ears, demanded to know
what it was that was so radically false.

"It isn't true that we can be separated," she answered, looking at him
with moist eyes.

"We?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, God's children--people--people--who--love each other," she
replied. Then she dropped her eyes in ev