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Morning, noon, and evening, pitching camp and breaking camp, yoking oxen and harnessing mules, keeping night vigil by shifts, hunting buffalo, killing rattlesnakes, watching for signs of hostile Indians, meeting incoming trains, or solitary trappers, at long intervals, breathing the sweet air of the prairies, and gathering rugged strength from sleep on the wholesome earth these things, with the jolliest of fellowship and perfect discipline of our captain, Jondo, made this hard, free life of the plains a fascinating one.
Louis to your uncle." "I remember that. The steamboat, and the Spanish language, and Felix Narveo's face. I recalled that when I saw him years ago," I exclaimed. "You always were all eyes and ears, remembering names and faces, where Beverly would not recall anything," Jondo declared. "And what became of your Fred Ramer?" I asked. "He is Ferdinand Ramero here. He married Narveo's sister later.
All day Jondo rode wide of the trail, sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other, watching for signs of an enemy. And the bluff, jovial crowd of bull-whackers laughed together at his holding on to his opinion out of sheer stubbornness.
Be quick about it." For one long minute Jondo looked down at his enemy. Then he lifted his eyes to mine with the victory of "him that overcometh" shining in their blue depths. "If I could make you live, I'd do it, Fred. If you have any word to say, be quick about it now. Your time is short."
I have known them to do the most cold-blooded deeds." Poor Eloise! The net about her had been skilfully drawn. "I don't know Father Josef's motive, but I can trust him. And no shadow shall trouble you long, Little Lees. Jondo and Uncle Esmond tote together, Aunty Boone said long ago. They know something about the Ramero blood, and Jondo has promised to tell me his story some day.
What a man among men this unknown freighter of the plains might have been and what a loss to the plains in the best of the trail years if Jondo had never dared its dangers for the safety of the generations to come. But the thought of Eloise, driven out momentarily by Jondo's story, came rushing in again. "You said you put a ring around Ramero to keep him in Santa Fé.
"He is right, Esmond. They haven't been riding all their lives for nothing," Jondo agreed, as Esmond Clarenden turned hesitatingly toward Mat Nivers. In the dim light her face seemed bright with courage. It is no wonder that we all trusted her. And trust was the large commodity of the plains in those days, when even as children we ran to meet danger with courageous daring.
"It would be foolish to underestimate the strength of Ferdinand Ramero," Jondo replied, adding, grimly, "It has been my lot to know the best of men who could make me believe all men are good, and the worst of men who make me doubt all humanity." He clenched his fists as if to hold himself in check, and something, neither sigh nor groan nor oath nor prayer, but like them all, burst from his lips.
Our eighty or more wagons were drawn up in a rude ellipse with the stock corraled inside, for we were nearing the danger zone. And yet to-night danger seemed impossible in such a peaceful land under such clear moonlight. "Gail, you were always a far-seeing youngster, even in your cub days," Jondo said, after we had sat silent for a long time.
Twilight was darkening into night. Bill Banney and Rex Krane had joined us now, for every hour we were learning to keep closer together. Jondo threw more wood on the fire, and we nestled about it in snug, homey fashion as if we were to listen to a fairy-tale three children slipping fast out of childhood into the stern, hard plains life that tried men's souls.
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