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Updated: May 15, 2025
I am the King of England, man, and I know your tongue, though I speak it not yet, more pity." Hereward fell on his knees. "If you are indeed my Lord the King, then I am safe; for there is justice in you, at least so all men say." And he told his tale, manfully. "Splendeur Dex! but this is a far likelier story, and I believe it. Hark you, you ruffians!
You can't get out there before daylight if you wait to rouse these people, and McNamara has probably telephoned the mines to send a party up to the quartz claim after Dex. He knows where the old man is as well as you do, and they'll raid him before dawn." "I'm afraid so, but it's all I can offer. Will you give me the horse?" "No! He's only a pony, and you'd founder him in the tundra.
His face was lined and gray. His eyes were red-rimmed and heavy. As he strode toward the saloon door, he staggered and caught himself. Dex shuffled uneasily, knowing that something was wrong with his master. Waring drew his hand across his eyes, and, entering the saloon, asked for whiskey. As in a dream, he saw men sitting in the back of the place. They leaned on their elbows and talked.
The sun, just above the horizon, glowed like a disk of burnished copper. The wagon ruts were filled with fine sand. Waring read the trail. The buckboard had traveled briskly. It had stopped at the line. The tracks of the fretting ponies showed that clearly. Alongside the tracks of the ponies were the half-hidden tracks of a single horse. Waring glanced back at the sun, and put Dex to a lope.
As the dusk drew down, the horse ceased grazing, sniffed the coming night, and nickered softly. Waring rose and led the horse to water, and, returning, emptied half the grain in the morral on a blanket. Dex munched contentedly.
Just before Waring slept he felt a gentle nosing of his blankets. The big horse sniffed curiously. "Strange blankets, eh?" queried Waring drowsily. "But it's the same old partner, Dex." The horse walked slowly away, nosing along the fence. Waring knew that he was well sentineled. The big buckskin would resent the approach of a stranger by snorting. Waring turned on his side and slept.
He turned out the light, locked the room from the outside, and strode out of the hotel. At the livery-stable, he asked for his horse. The man in charge told him that Dex had been taken by the police. That the Señor Bill Donovan and Pedro Salazar had come and shown him a paper, he could not read, but he knew the big seal. It was Pedro Salazar who had ridden the horse.
He quailed at the thought. "Say, Dex, I am going to marry that girl." "I dunno if you be or not," said Dextry. "Better watch McNamara." "What!" The younger man stopped and stared. "What do you mean?" "Go on. Don't stop the horses. I ain't blind. I kin put two an' two together." "You'll never put those two together. Nonsense! Why, the man's a rascal. I wouldn't let him have her.
One while the Englishmen rushed on, another while they fell back; one while the men from over sea charged onward, and again at other times retreated. The Normans shouted, 'Dex Aie, the English people, 'Out. Then came the cunning manoeuvres, the rude shocks and strokes of the lance and blows of the swords, among the sergeants and soldiers, both English and Norman.
Just before dawn Ramon awakened and touched Waring. "They are coming!" he whispered. Waring shook his head. "You hear our horses. The rurales won't ride into this pocket before daylight. Stay right here till I come back." He rose and worked cautiously down the eastern slope, searching for Dex in the valley. In the gray gloom he saw the outline of his horse grazing alone. He stepped down to him.
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