in her stir. The
road was perfect. It stretched, smooth and white, away into the dusk. The
air was clear as on a mountain top, with just enough crispness to create
energy. Of wind there was scarcely a breath.

She was not pleased at all with Harboro's friend. He had assumed the
attitude of a deferential guide, and his remarks were almost entirely
addressed to Harboro. But she was not to be put out by so small a part of
the night's programme. After all, Valdez was not planning to return with
them, and they were likely to have the ride back by themselves. Valdez,
she had been informed, was to be a sort of best friend to the family of
the bride, and it would be his duty to remain for the next day's
ceremonies--the feasting and the marriage itself.

The dusk deepened, and a new light began to glow over the desert. A waxing
moon, half-full, rode near the zenith; and as the light of day receded it
took on a surprising brilliance. The road seemed in some strange way to be
more clearly defined than under the light of day. It became a winding path
to happiness. It began to beckon; to whisper of the delights of swift
races, of coquetries. It bade the riders laugh aloud and fling their cares
away. Occasionally it rose or dipped; and then through little valleys
between sand-dunes, or from low summits, the waters of the Rio Grande were
visible away to the left. A mist was clinging to the river, making more
mysterious its undisturbed progress through the desert.

After a long time the silence of the road was broken by the tinkle of a
small bell, and Valdez pulled his horse in and looked sharply away into a
mesquite-clad depression. Of old the road had been haunted by night-riders
who were willing enough to ride away with a traveller's possessions,
leaving the traveller staring sightlessly toward the sky. But Valdez
thought of no menaces in connection with the border folk. He was a
kind-hearted fellow, to whom all men were friends.

"Travellers, or a party camped for the night," he said interestedly, as if
the presence of other human beings must be welcomed gladly. He rode out
toward the sound of that tinkling bell, and in a moment he was guided more
certainly by the blaze of a camp-fire.

Harboro and Sylvia followed, and presently they were quite near to two
quaint old carts, heaped high with mesquite fagots destined for the
humbler hearths of Eagle Pass. Donkeys were tethered near by, and two
Mexicans, quite old and docile in ap