really loved
him before to-night, Carter." She was not looking at him, hardly talking
to him; she seemed rather to be thinking aloud. Even if she had looked
him full in the face she would not have realized what she was doing to
him; there was only one realization for her now. "I guess I just loved
what he _was_--his glorious body and his eyes and the way his hair
_will_ wave--and what he could _do_--the winning, the people cheering
him. But to-night, when I thought--when I believed the very worst thing
in the world of him--when I thought he had failed me--then I found out.
Then I knew I loved--_him_." She leaned her head back against the arm of
the chair, and her hands rested, palm upward, in her lap. "It's worth
everything that's happened, to know that." She was mercifully still
again. Carter thought once that she must be asleep, she was breathing so
softly and evenly, but after a long pause she asked, with a shade of
difference in her tone, "How long has Juan been gone, Carter?"

He looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes. Perhaps half an hour."

Honor rose to her feet. "Well, then," she said with conviction, "they'll
be here soon! Any minute, now."

"They may not come." He could not help saying it.

"Oh, they'll come! They'll come very--" she stopped short at the sound
of a shot. "What was that?" she asked, childishly.

"That was a shot," said Carter, watching her face.

"But it wouldn't hurt Jimsy or Juan. They're nearly here! That was far
away, wasn't it, Carter?" Still her bright serenity held fear at bay.

"Not very far, Honor." He wanted to see that calm of hers broken up; he
wanted cruelly to make her sense the danger.

"But, Cartie," she explained to him, patiently, "you know nothing is
going to happen to Jimsy now, when I've just begun really to care for
him!" She opened the door and stepped out on the veranda, and he
followed her. "See--it's almost morning!" The east was gray and there
was a drowsy twittering of birds.

"It's the false dawn," said Carter stubbornly. "Listen--" another shot
rang out, then three in quick succession. "I believe they're chasing
Juan!"

The Mexican who was on guard held up a hand, commanding them to listen.
They held their breath. Through the soft silence they began to get the
sound of running feet, stumbling feet, running with difficulty, and in
another moment, up the green lane came Yaqui Juan, bent almost double
with the weight of Jimsy King across his back.

"Honor