kept her here. Only a man like Clarenden would have dared to take her
away, though he had the pleading call of her mother's last wish. Gail, I
have told you the heart-history of half a dozen men. If this had stopped
with us we could forgive after a while, but it runs down to you and
Beverly and Eloise and Marcos, who will carry out his father's plans to
the letter. So the battle is all to be fought over again. Let me leave
you a minute or two. I'll not be gone long."

I sat alone, staring out at the shadowy court and, above it, the blue
night-sky of New Mexico inlaid with stars, until a rush of feet in the
hall and a shout of inquiry told me that Beverly Clarenden was hunting
for me.

Meantime the girl in Mexican dress, who had come out of the church with
Father Josef when he came to greet Eloise and me, had passed unnoticed
through the Plaza and out on the way leading to the northeast. Here she
came to the blind adobe wall of La Garita, whose olden purpose one still
may read in the many bullet-holes in its brown sides. Here she paused,
and as the evening shadows lengthened the dress and wall blended their
dull tones together.

Beverly Clarenden, who had gone with Rex Krane up to Fort Marcy that
evening, had left his companion to watch the sunset and dream of Mat
back on the Missouri bluff, while he wandered down La Garita. He did not
see the Mexican woman standing motionless, a dark splotch against a dun
wall, until a soft Hopi voice called, eagerly, "Beverly, Beverly."

The black scarf fell from the bright face, and Indian garb--not Po-a-be,
the student of St. Ann's and the guest of the Clarenden home, with the
white Grecian robe and silver headband set with coral pendants, as
Beverly had seen her last in the side porch on the night of Mat's
wedding, but Little Blue Flower, the Indian of the desert lands, stood
before him.

"Where the devil--I mean the holy saints and angels, did you come from?"
Beverly cried, in delight, at seeing a familiar face.

"I came here to do Father Josef some service. He has been good to me. I
bring a message."

She reached out her hand with a letter. Beverly took the letter and the
hand. He put the message in his pocket, but he did not release the
hand.

"That's something for Jondo. I'll see that he gets it, all right. Tell
me all about yourself now, Little Run-Off-and-Never-Come-Back." It was
Beverly's way to make people love him, because he loved people.

It was late at last,