g
plainsman said, slowly.

Uncle Esmond shook his head as he replied:

"I can't believe it. They may not be safe with us, but we know they
would not have been safe without us."

Just then Beverly and Mat came racing up from the creek bank.

"Let us stay up awhile," Mat pleaded. "Maybe we'll be less trouble some
of these days if we hear you talk about what's coming."

"They are right, Jondo. Gail here wants to know what is coming next, and
Mat wants a share in our councils. What do you want, Beverly?"

"I want to practise shooting on horseback. I can hit a mark now standing
still. I want to do it on the run," Beverly replied.

I can see now the earnest look in Esmond Clarenden's eyes as he
listened. I've seen it in a mother's eyes more than once since then, as
she kissed her eldest-born and watched it toddle off alone on its first
day of school; or held her peace, when, breaking home ties, the son of
her heart bade her good-by to begin life for himself in the world
outside.

The last light of day was lost over the western ridge. The moon was
beginning to swell big and yellow through the trees. Twilight was
darkening into night. Bill Banney and Rex Krane had joined us now, for
every hour we were learning to keep closer together. Jondo threw more
wood on the fire, and we nestled about it in snug, homey fashion as if
we were to listen to a fairy-tale--three children slipping fast out of
childhood into the stern, hard plains life that tried men's souls. As we
listened, the older men told of the perils as well as the fascinating
adventures of trail life, that we might understand what lay before us in
the unknown days. And then they told us stories of the plains, and of
the quaint historic things of Santa Fe; of El Palacio, home of all the
Governors of New Mexico; an Indian pueblo first, it may have been
standing there when William the Norman conquered Harold of the Saxon
dynasty of England; or further back when Charlemagne was hanging heathen
by the great great gross to make good Christians of them; or even when
old Julius Caesar came and saw and conquered, on either side of the
Rubicon, this same old structure may have sheltered rulers in a world
unknown. They told us of the old, old church of San Miguel, a citadel
for safety from the savage foes of Spain, a sanctuary ever for the
sinful and sorrowing ones. And of the Plaza--sacred ground whereon by
ceremonial form had been established deeds that should change the