a copper coin through
the door, alms to a beggar to bring him luck from heaven to further his
plans from hell. Nor did he know the magazine his contemptuous gift had
set aflame, nor see the convulsive struggle between the Delaware and
three other Indians. The guard laughed sneeringly at the fight they
made, three to one, over a single piece of copper: Who was to know that
they fought over a hollow piece of steel, charged twice times three with
leaden death? Who was to read the desperation in that furious struggle,
where a beast-man fought like a fiend against his closest friends? The
struggling four reeled and stumbled from the house, leading away a fiery
tempest and faded into the crooning night. That open door nearly had
been an Open Door, indeed!

Within the room the vivacity died in the woman's eyes, the
whimsicalities drew back in sudden panic at the beast look on the
governor's face; the swing was gone from the strumming music, the rhythm
from the swaying dance. At once the festive room was a pit of slime, the
smiling faces but mocking masks, and the dark shadow of a vulture
descended like a suffocating gas. Like a flash the wall dissolved to
show a long, clean trail, winding from Yesterday into Tomorrow; restful
glades and creeks of shining sands, windswept prairies and a clear, blue
sky; verdant glades and miles of flowers--and a tall, dark youth with
smiling face, who worshiped reverently with tender eyes. She drew
herself up as white streaks crossed her crimson cheeks like some darting
rapier blade, and, bowing coldly to the pompous governor, stood rigidly
erect and stared for a full half-minute into his astonished eyes, and
made them fall. Deliberately and with unutterable scorn and loathing she
turned from him to her father and her uncle, who forthwith shattered the
absurd rules of pomp by showing him their broad backs and leaving at
once. The room hushed as they walked toward the door, but no man stayed
them, for on their faces there blazed the sign of Death.

Armijo, still staring after them, waved his hand and three men slipped
out by another door, to follow and to learn what sanctuary that flower
might choose. As he wheeled about and snapped a profane order the
fiddlers and strummers stumbled into their stammering music; the dance
went on again, with ragged rhythm, like an automaton out of gear.

Down the dark street rumbled the Dearborn, rocking perilously, the
clatter of the running horses filling t