the Mexican twinkled. "Your wound--does it greatly
trouble you, senor?"

"Some. When I walk."

"Too bad. I was going to ask you to step upstairs and tell Senorita
Seymour that General Culvera will be delighted to have her join us at
luncheon. But, of course, since your leg troubles you--"

"It's a heap better already, general. You're giving me good medicine."

"Ah! I think you know the lady's room. But perhaps I had better call a
peon."

The eyes of the cowpuncher were bright. "Now, don't you, general. Keep
on talking and you're liable to spoil what you've said," answered Steve
with his old gay laugh.

He hobbled out of the room and up the stairs.

The door of Ruth's room was open. She sat huddled in a chair looking
straight before her. There were shadows under her young eyes that never
should have been there. Her lissome figure had lost its gallantry, the
fine poise that had given her a note of wild freedom. Steve had come up
so quietly that she evidently had not heard, for she did not turn her
weary head to see who it was.

He stood a moment, hesitating on the threshold. She sat without moving,
a pathetic picture of despair and grief. A man had died for her
yesterday. Another man was to die to-day because he had tried to save
her. She herself was in danger still. The tragedy of life had carried
her beyond tears.

When he moved forward a step she turned. Her lips parted in surprise.
The dark eyes under her tumbled, blue-black hair stared in astonishment.
Slowly she rose, never lifting her gaze from him. With a little cry of
wonder she stretched her arms toward this man who had come to her as if
from the dead.

In two strides he reached her and swept the girl into his arms. He
kissed the tired eyes, the tousled hair, the soft cheeks into which the
color began to flow. She clung to him, afraid to let him go, uncertain
whether it was a reality.

At last she spoke. "It _is_ you, isn't it? I thought ... they told
me ... that you...."

He laughed softly with the joy of it all. "I'm free--free to go home
with you, Ruth,--back to God's country, to friends and life and love."

"Are you going to take me, too?" she asked with naive simplicity.

"Is it likely I'd go without you? Yes, we're all going. Culvera has seen
the light. Soon all this will be like a nightmare from which we have
escaped. That's right, honey. Cry if you want to. Little girl, little
girl, how am I ever going to tell you how much I love you?"