ed up a
band of the worst of his breed and they are moving against the Hopis to
get Beverly. You and Jondo and Clarenden and Krane will join the little
squad of cavalry you left up in the mountains, and turn the Apache back,
and all of us must start at once, or we may be too late. May heaven
bless our hands and make them strong."

We bowed in reverence for a moment. When we hurried from the dim church
into the warm October sunlight, Aunty Boone sat on the door-step beside
my horse.

"'He's jus' gone out,' I told 'em so, back there on the Missouri River.
He's gone out an' I'm goin', hot streaks, to find him, Little Lees.
Whoo-ee!"

XXI

IN THE SHADOW OF THE INFINITE

And though there's never a grave to tell,
Nor a cross to mark his fall,
Thank God! we know that he "batted well"
In the last great Game of all.

--SERVICE.

We left Santa Fe within an hour, and struck out toward the unknown land
where Beverly Clarenden, in the midst of uncertain friends, was being
hunted down by an Apache band. As our little company passed out on the
trail toward Agua Fria, I recalled the day when we had gone with Rex
Krane to this little village beside the Santa Fe River. Eloise and
Father Josef and Santan and Little Blue Flower were all there that day;
and Jondo, although we did not know it then. Rex Krane had told Beverly,
going out, that an Indian never forgets. In all the years Santan had not
forgotten.

To-day we covered the miles rapidly. Jondo and Father Josef rode ahead,
with Esmond Clarenden and Felix Narveo following them; then came Eloise
St. Vrain with Sister Gloria; behind them, Aunty Boone, with Rex and
myself bringing up the rear. Three pack-mules bearing our equipment
went tramping after us with bobbing ears and sturdy gait.

I looked down the line of our little company ahead. The four men in the
lead were college chums once, and all of them had loved the mother of
the girl behind them. I have said the girl looked best by twilight. I
had not seen her in a coarse-gray riding-dress when I said that. I had
seen her when she needed protection from her enemies. I had not seen her
until to-day, going out to meet hardship fearlessly, for the sake of one
who wanted her--only an Indian maiden, but a faithful friend. In the
plainest face self-forgetfulness puts a beauty all its own. That beauty
shone resplendent now in the beautiful face of Mary Marchland's
daughter.

The world ca