im. And with his make-up, he would stop at nothing to have his
own way, until his wilful pride and stubbornness and love of luxury
ruined him. But in our college days we were his satellites. He was
always in debt to all of us, for money was his only god and we never
dared to press him for payment. The only one of us who ever overruled
him was Dick Verra. But Dick was a born master of men. There was one
other chum of ours, but I'll tell you about him later. Boys together, we
had many escapades and some serious problems, until by the time our
college days were over we were bound together by those ties that are
made in jest and broken with choking voices and eyes full of tears."

Jondo paused and I waited, silent, until he should continue.

"Things happened to that little group of college men as time went on.
You know your uncle's life, leading merchant of Kansas City and the
Southwest; and mine, plainsman and freighter on the Santa Fe Trail.
Felix Narveo's history is easily read. Esmond Clarenden came down here
at the outbreak of the Mexican War, and together he and Narveo laid the
foundation for the present trail commerce that is making the country at
either end of it rich and strong. Dick Verra is now Father Josef." Jondo
paused as if to gather force for the rest of the story. Then he said:

"Back at college we all knew Mary Marchland, a beautiful Louisiana girl
who visited in Washington and New England, and all of us were in love
with her. When our life-lines crossed again Clarenden had come to St.
Louis. About that time his two older brothers and their wives died
suddenly of yellow fever, leaving you and Beverly alone. It was Felix
Narveo who brought you up to St. Louis to your uncle."

"I remember that. The steamboat, and the Spanish language, and Felix
Narveo's face. I recalled that when I saw him years ago," I exclaimed.

"You always were all eyes and ears, remembering names and faces, where
Beverly would not recall anything," Jondo declared.

"And what became of your Fred Ramer?" I asked.

"He is Ferdinand Ramero here. He married Narveo's sister later. She is
not the mother of Marcos, but a second wife. She owned a tract of land
inherited from the Narveo estate down in the San Christobal country.
There is a lonely ranch house in a picturesque canon, and many acres of
grazing-land. She keeps it still as hers, although her stepson, Marcos,
claims it now. It is for her sake that Narveo doesn't dare to move
open