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It reminds me that we are of different countries as different as the north can be from the south. Do tell me what is really in your mind. Why do you hate this valley? Why has coming into it tied your tongue, and made you look as if you had seen a ghost?" "You exaggerate, Miss Beverly," said Loria. "But if you care to know the precise truth you shall, on one condition." "What is it?"
"It isn't far away at most, Jack," Beverly assured him; for he sympathized with Jack and the reason the other had for longing to get to the home town ahead of his scheming cousin. "Show me the chart and just about where we ought to be right now, Tom," said Jack. "That is, if it's no trouble."
"I think we have been betrayed by someone," said Dagmar, after an almost interminable silence. Her companion did not reply. "The couriers say that Gabriel knows where we are weakest at the front and that he knows our every movement. Yetive, there is a spy here, after all." "And that spy has access to the very heart of our deliberations," added Beverly pointedly.
So with each passing year the gulf had imperceptibly widened until Miss Woodhull was as much alone in hospitable Virginia as though she lived in Borneo. Upon realizing that Beverly was really missing her first impulse was to phone to Kilton Hall, for, of course, she had risen early and rushed off to see Athol. Miss Woodhull's blood boiled at the thought!
We left Santa Fé within an hour, and struck out toward the unknown land where Beverly Clarenden, in the midst of uncertain friends, was being hunted down by an Apache band. As our little company passed out on the trail toward Agua Fria, I recalled the day when we had gone with Rex Krane to this little village beside the Santa Fé River.
Shorty reached down and released the bruised and swollen leg from the trap, and as the dog felt himself free he gave a cry of relief. If ever a dog expressed his gratitude in actions it was that pup. When they reached the mouth of the cave the dog collar was carefully examined, bringing to light the fact that the dog belonged to a Beverly H. Pembroke. Shorty would have the reward.
"The rest of your party, my friend," I said, "are not very likely to." And I generalized to him briefly upon the town of Kings Port. "Supposing I take you to call upon Mrs. St. Michael when I come back this afternoon?" I suggested. Beverly thought it over, and then shook his head. "Wouldn't do, old man.
The evening shadows were lengthening and the peaks of the Sangre-de-Christo range were taking on the scarlet stains of sunset when we raced into town at last. Rex Krane went at once to find Uncle Esmond, and Beverly and I hurried to the hotel to tell Mat of all that we had seen. Her gray eyes were glowing when she met us at the door and led us into a corner where we could talk by ourselves.
And yet " She paused. All men are humanly alike. In spite of my strong love for Beverly and my sense of right, the presence of the woman whose image for so many years had been in the sacredest shrine of my heart, Eloise, in all her beauty and her womanly strength and purity, standing beside me, her hand still on my arm all overpowered me.
"I know now right where she lives. It's up a crooked street by that church. I saw her run in there," I insisted. "Every hut looks like every other hut, and every little Mex looks like every other little Mex," Beverly declared.
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