f their ladies through deadly battle, and the ogling
beaux turn an epigram on _les sauvages nous ancetres_!"

"Show me the way to the battlefield--I ask no more!" I cried.

"Words--words!" she mocked. "The Cid would have found his way to the
field of glory without asking. Were the way barred, El Campeador would
have hewn his way through, though the barrier were of solid rock! But
the men of to-day--!"

"Wait!" I broke in. "Have you not yourself said that the way of the gulf
is impassable for me?"

"True," she assented, "true! And not alone the gulf, but the
barrier--the gulf of water and of the Cross; the barrier of rock and of
blood."

"Blue blood and red have been known to intermingle," I argued.

"With love for solvent!" she murmured. The softness was only for the
instant. "Yet what of that other barrier?" she demanded. "Between your
land and the land to which I go lies the blood of Christ."

"Is it then religion that is the insurmountable barrier--the impassable
gulf? You have not lived all your life in Spain. I had hoped that not
even your faith could close your heart against me, if only I might prove
to you the greatness of my love."

She sat silent for what seemed an endless time, toying idly with her
fan. When at last she spoke, it was again in that light, inconsequential
tone: "To the eastward or northeastward of Santa Fe lies a vast
snow-clad sierra. My kinsman once saw it from a great distance. He says
it is called the _Sangre de Cristo_."

"_Sangre de Cristo_--the Blood of Christ!" I said, lost in wonderment.
Then a great light flashed upon me. I knelt on one knee and caught to my
lips a white hand that did not seek to escape my grasp. "The
barrier--the barrier of rock!--Alisanda! you give me hope! If I come to
you there--if I cross that barrier? Dearest one!--dearest! can you doubt
it? Though I have to find my way alone among the fierce savages of the
vast prairies; though I find that snowy range a mountain of ice and
fire, I will come to you, Alisanda--my love!"

I saw the quick rise of her bosom and the blush that suffused her cheeks
with glorious scarlet before she could raise her masking fan.

"_Santisima Virgen!_" she murmured, and broke into a little quavering,
uncertain laugh. "They speak of the cold blood of your race!"

"Alisanda!--Dearest one! Tell me I may come!"

She rose quietly, already calm again, and cold as the moonlight which
shone full upon her face. I rose with her, still