s glance rested upon Nell's face he divined she was
feigning sleep. The faint rose-blush had paled. The warm, rich,
golden tint of her skin had fled. Dick dropped upon his knees and bent
over her. Though his blood was churning in his veins, his breast
laboring, his mind whirling with the wonder of that moment and its
promise, he made himself deliberate. He wanted more than anything he
had ever wanted in his life to see if she would keep up that pretense
of sleep and let him kiss her. She must have felt his breath, for her
hair waved off her brow. Her cheeks were now white. Her breast swelled
and sank. He bent down closer--closer. But he must have been
maddeningly slow, for as he bent still closer Nell's eyes opened, and
he caught a swift purple gaze of eyes as she whirled her head. Then,
with a little cry, she rose and fled.

X

ROJAS

NO word from George Thorne had come to Forlorn River in weeks. Gale
grew concerned over the fact, and began to wonder if anything serious
could have happened to him. Mercedes showed a slow, wearing strain.

Thorne's commission expired the end of January, and if he could not get
his discharge immediately, he surely could obtain leave of absence.
Therefore, Gale waited, not without growing anxiety, and did his best
to cheer Mercedes. The first of February came bringing news of rebel
activities and bandit operations in and around Casita, but not a word
from the cavalryman.

Mercedes became silent, mournful. Her eyes were great black windows of
tragedy. Nell devoted herself entirely to the unfortunate girl; Dick
exerted himself to persuade her that all would yet come well; in fact,
the whole household could not have been kinder to a sister or a
daughter. But their united efforts were unavailing. Mercedes seemed
to accept with fatalistic hopelessness a last and crowning misfortune.

A dozen times Gale declared he would ride in to Casita and find out why
they did not hear from Thorne; however, older and wiser heads prevailed
over his impetuosity. Belding was not sanguine over the safety of the
Casita trail. Refugees from there arrived every day in Forlorn River,
and if tales they told were true, real war would have been preferable
to what was going on along the border. Belding and the rangers and the
Yaqui held a consultation. Not only had the Indian become a faithful
servant to Gale, but he was also of value to Belding. Yaqui had all
the craft of his class, and