hese
years, but nobody takes no 'count of niggers' knowin's. Good-by, Little
Lees, and all you boys. I'll see you again pretty soon, I'm goin' back
to my desset now. It's over yonder just a little way. Jondo--but you
won't be John Doe then. Whoo-ee!"

Aunty Boone slowly settled down beside the cypress, with her face toward
her beloved "desset," and when we went to her a little later, her eyes,
still looking eastward, saw nothing earthly any more forever.

Jondo's face seemed glorified as he caught Aunty Boone's last words, and
his voice was sweet and clear as he looked up at Eloise bending over
him.

"Thank God! It is all made right at last. Eloise, the charge of murder
against your father's name would have broken the heart of the woman that
I always loved--your mother. One of us had to bear the shame. I took the
guilt on myself for her sake--and for yours. I have walked the trails
of my life a nameless man, but I have kept my soul clean in God's sight,
and I know His name will soon be written on my forehead over there."

He gazed out toward the glorious beauty of the view beyond him, then
closed his eyes, and, bravely as he had lived, so bravely he went forth
on the Long Trail, leaving a name sweet with the perfume of
self-sacrifice and love.

We did not speak of him to Beverly, for our boy had suddenly grown
restless, and his blood was threshing furiously in his veins, and he was
in pain, but only briefly.

Presently he said, "Let us be alone a little." The others drew away.

"Lean down, Gail. I want to tell you something." He smiled sweetly upon
me as I bent over him.

"I tried to tell you back on the Smoky Hill, but I'd promised not to.
And honor was something to me still. But I'm going pretty soon. So
listen! I loved Eloise always--always. But she never cared for me. She
was only my good chum. I've been too happy-hearted all my days, though,
Gail, to make a cross of anything that would break me down. Men differ
so, you know, and I never was a dreamer like you. Turn me a little,
won't you, so that I can see that awful beauty down there."

I lifted his shoulders gently and placed him where his eyes could rest
on the majestic scene spread out before him.

"Eloise loves you, but she thinks you would not marry her because they
say her father was a murderer. I don't believe that, Gail. I told her
that you didn't, either, not one little minute. You care for her, I
know, and losing her will break your heart. I