n.

"Your father!" exclaimed Wilson.

But the man was coming towards them--steadily, and yet as if in a sort
of daze.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

The eyes, the high cheek-bones, the thin lips, were those of the
Priest, but the voice was different. It had lost something of its
harshness--something, too, of its decisiveness. The girl interrupted,

"This is no time for explanations. Come into the hut. We must rest
first."

She led the way, keeping a tight grip upon Wilson's arm, steadying
him. Stubbs and he whom they had known as the Priest followed.

Within the hut Flores and his wife, still bewildered by the sudden
conversion of the Priest from an enemy to a friend (understanding
nothing of what had happened), crouched far into the rear overcome
with genuine awe and reverence for the guardian of their god in his
new character. Threats had driven them to rebellion while kindliness
now made of them abject slaves. They stood ready to obey his slightest
wish--not with cravenness, but with quick reversion to the faith of
their ancestors. But he acted as though he did not see them--as
though, in fact, he saw nothing of anything about him save the girl.
He followed her with his eyes with almost childlike eagerness and
greeted a glance from her with almost pathetic joy. He spoke little,
apparently finding difficulty in expressing himself--in forming his
scattered thoughts into correct sentences. His whole appearance was
that of a man freed after a long imprisonment. The only thing of his
present surroundings which he now grasped perfectly was his
relationship with the girl. He was reviving old-time joys in his
daughter.

But Jo herself, even in the freshness of her happiness over the
unexpected success of her long journey, had found an even greater
interest in this newer passion. She spread a blanket for Wilson in a
corner of the hut and forced him to lie down here and give himself up
to sleep. Stubbs sank to the ground in the sun where he stood outside
and fell into a stupor.

Hour after hour the girl sat at Wilson's side as though guarding his
rest, and in this gentle task she found a new conception of happiness.
Near her, during the long vigil, sat her father, while in and out,
softly as two shadows, moved Flores and his wife.

Wilson awoke long before Stubbs and insisted upon getting up. There
were many things to be learned and many things to be done. He realized
that they were still in the he