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"I can go where I am needed," Sister Gloria declared. "This is my land, I never know Africa was right out here. I thought they was oceans on both sides of it. I go where Bev's gone out an then I come here and stay. Whoo-ee!" We smiled at her mistaken dream of her far African home, and, cheering one another on, when morning came we moved northwest.
He had run away from Bev's face. Only he had not got away from it. It had been with him all night, and it was with him now. But he would have to go back. He couldn't be caught like a rat in a trap. The Clarks didn't run away. They were fighters. Only the Clarks didn't kill. They fought, but they didn't murder. He picked up his hat and went to the door.
"I'm going to marry Gail when I grow up," Eloise said, meditatively. "He won't ever let Marcos pull my hair." She shook back the curly tresses, gold-gleaming in the moonlight, and squeezed my hand as she sat beside me. "What will you be, Gail?" Mat asked. "I'll go and save Bev's scalp when he's gunning too far from home," I declared.
"I'll tell you some time soon, but not to-night. Honor is something with me yet." And so he left me. I dreamed of him that night with Eloise. And all of us were glad. I wakened suddenly. Beverly was standing near me. He turned and walked away, his upright form and gait, even in the faint light, individually Bev's own.
But if I tell you what I came here to say, Bassett, get this straight. It's not because I'm afraid of you, or of him. Donaldson's dead. What value would Melis's testimony have after ten years, if you put him on the stand? It's not that. It's because you'll put your blundering foot into it and ruin Bev's career, unless I tell you the truth."
The last words to a wounded soldier for whom Bev's grip eased the ride. It was a strange procession, and in that tragic gloom the boy's light-hearted words were balm to me. Silently and slowly we moved forward. The underbrush was thick on either side of the narrow, stony way that wound between sheer cliffs.
The sun was shining now, and the arroyo was nothing more than a placid, though muddy stream. Its gleaming sides, however, spoke lucidly to Bev's intelligence, and he set the pony at a smarter pace in the marshy road. "Sus! Sus!" said Bev to his pony, who knew Spanish best, being a bronco from the south. But Coco did not respond.
They heard of it early this morning and wanted to get word to you right off, but didn't dare butt in, you see.... "Yes, they have just said I may come and I'll be down on the first train in the morning. I mustn't say a word to Arch. Oh, Uncle Ath! Well, I won't if you say not but I reckon I'll burst if I don't tell him. You don't want the old maid to get wise that Bev's at Woodbine?
"He couldn't be married and keep us, I reckon, and he's taking us with him so nothing will happen to us while he's gone. He's really truly Bev's uncle and mine, but he's just the same as uncle to Mat, who hasn't anybody else," I declared, enthusiastically. Uncle Esmond was my pride, and I meant that he should be fully appreciated.
On the evening before I left home I sat on the veranda of the Clarenden house, waiting for Uncle Esmond to join me, when suddenly Beverly Clarenden strode over the edge of the hill. The sunny smile and the merry twinkle of his eye were Bev's own, and there wasn't a line on his face to show whether it belonged to the happy lover or the rejected suitor.
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