eyes to mine with the victory of "him that overcometh" shining in their
blue depths.

"If I could make you live, I'd do it, Fred. If you have any word to say,
be quick about it now. Your time is short."

The sweetness of that gentle voice I hear sometimes to-day in the low
notes of song-birds, and the gentle swish of refreshing summer showers.

Ferdinand Ramero lifted his cold blue eyes and looked at the man bending
over him.

"Leave me here--forgotten--"

"Not of God. His Mercy endureth forever," Jondo replied.

But there was no repentance, no softening of the hard, imperious heart.

We left him there, pulling down the loose earth from the steep sides of
the draw to cover him from all the frowning elements of the plains. And
when we went back to the waiting train Jondo reported, grimly:

"_No enemy in sight."_

We laid Bill Banney beside the poisoned spring, from whose bitter waters
he had saved our lives. So martyrs filled the unknown graves that made
the milestones of the way in the days of commerce-building on the old
Santa Fe Trail.

The next spring was not far ahead, as Bill's note had said, but the
stars were thick above us and the desolate land was full of shadows
before we reached it--a thirst-mad, heart-sore crowd trailing slowly on
through the gloom of the night.

Beverly was waiting for us and the refreshing moisture of the air above
a spring seemed about him.

"I thought you'd never come. Where's Bill? There's water here. I made
the spring myself," he shouted, as we came near.

The spring that he had digged for us was in the sandy bed of a dry
stream, with low, earth-banks on either side. It was full of water,
hardly clear, but plentiful, and slowly washing out a bigger pool for
itself as it seeped forth.

"There is poison in the real spring down there." Beverly pointed toward
the diminished fountain we had expected to find. "I've worked since noon
at this."

We drank, and life came back to us. We pitched camp, and then listened
to Beverly's story of the sweet and bitter waters of the trail that day.
And all the while it seemed as if Bill Banney was just out of sight and
might come galloping in at any moment.

"You know what happened up the trail," my cousin said, sadly. "Bill was
ahead of me and he drank first, and galloped back to warn me and beg me
to come on for water. I thought I could get down here and take some
water back to Bill in time. It's all shale up there. No place to dig