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"Yes, he holds a grudge against the Clarenden name because we made him play square with us at the old fort when we were children," I told the priest. "He yelled defiance at us in the battle on the Prairie Dog Creek last August. Bev shot his horse from under him just to humble the insolent dog! Beverly never was a coward," I insisted, all my affection for my cousin overwhelming me.
"Talking about the horses, Bev," said the Viscount, sitting up in bed and speaking rather hurriedly, "I protest, since the rascally attempt on 'Moonraker' last night, I've been on pins and needles, positively, nerve quite gone, y'know, Bev. If 'Moonraker' didn't happen to be a horse, he'd be a mare, of course he would, but I mean a nightmare.
"But," said Barnabas, as the Viscount caught his hand, "it was not altogether on Clemency's account, Dick." "No matter, you frightened the fellow off. Oh, I know she told me; I made her! She had to fight with the beast, that's how he lost his button. I tell you, if ever I get the chance at him, he or I shall get his quietus. By God, Bev, I'm half-minded to send the brute a challenge, as it is."
"Why you see, my dear fellow," he explained, "he was so so deuced small, Bev, a wretched little pale-faced, shivering atomy, peeping up at me over a ragged elbow waiting to be thrashed, and I liked him because he didn't snivel, and he was too insignificant for prison, so, when he told me how hungry he was, I forgot to cuff his shrinking, dirty little head, and suggested a plate of beef at one of the a la mode shops.
"Bev will be a real newspaper editor some day," declared the Story Girl, on whom the spirit of prophecy suddenly descended that night. She was swinging on the bough of an apple tree, with a crimson shawl wrapped about her head, and her eyes were bright with roguish fire. "How do you know he will?" asked Felicity. "Oh, I can tell futures," answered the Story Girl mysteriously.
D' you mean to say you've actually been asleep?" demanded the Viscount reproachfully. "Gad! what a devilish cold-blooded fish you are, Bev! Haven't closed a peeper all night, myself. Couldn't, y' know, what with one deuced thing or another. So I got up, hours ago, went and looked at the horses. Found your man Martin on guard with a loaded pistol in each pocket, y' know, deuced trustworthy fellow.
"Why, Bev my dear old fellow, this is a joyful surprise! oh, bruise and blister me!" exclaimed the Viscount, viewing Barnabas up and down with radiant eyes, "to see you yourself again at last and on this day of all days this makes everything quite complete, y'know doesn't it, Clemency? Expected to find you in bed, y'know didn't we, Clem, dear? And oh egad, Bev er my wife, y'know.
Had it been merely a c e I should have nourished hopes, but the 't i o' slew 'em killed 'em stone dead and prepared me for a screed in my Honored Roman's best style, bristling with the Divine Right of Fathers, and, Bev I got it. Listen:"
Never before, in all the years that we had known her, had she expressed a wish for her early home across he seas. Her voice trailed off weirdly, and she gazed at the Kaw Valley for a long moment. Then she said, in a low tone that thrilled her listeners with its vibrant power: "Bev ain't no deserter. He's gone out! Jus' gone out. Whoo-ee!"
Then he turned back toward Santa Fé and found his doom up there at Santan's spring. "I'm like Bev. I wish he had gotten the Apache, now. I don't know yet how I was fooled in him, for he has always been Fred Ramer's tool, and Father Josef never trusted him. And to think that Bill Banney, in no way touching any of our lives, should have been martyred by the crimes of Fred and this Apache!
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