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The heart-hunger of the orphan child had been eased by the gentleness of Jondo, the championship of Mat Nivers, and the sure defense of Esmond Clarenden, who said little to children, and was instinctively trusted by all of them. With Beverly's banter the smile came back quickly to Mat's eyes. It was never lost from them long at a time.
"It's all true, Gail," Mat assured me. "Esmond Clarenden is going to Santa Fé in spite of 'war, pestilence, famine, and sword, as my History of the World says, and he is going to take son Beverly, and son Gail to watch son Beverly; and Miss Mat Nivers to watch both of them and shoo Indians away; and Aunt Daniel Boone to scare the Mexicans into the Gulf of California, if they act ugly, see!"
Down on the parade-ground Beverly Clarenden and Mat Nivers were sitting with their feet crossed under them, tailor fashion, facing each other and talking earnestly. Over by the fort, Esmond Clarenden stood under a big elm-tree. A round little, stout little man he was, whose sturdy strength and grace of bearing made up for his lack of height.
"When do you suppose we'll begin to see the real bad Indians; not just Osages and Kaws and sneaky little Otoes and Pot'wat'mies like we've seen all our lives?" "Sooner than we expect," Beverly replied. "Could Mat Nivers ever be a real princess, do you reckon?"
Beverly had unconsciously held the girl's hand as he spoke, but at the mention of the Indian boy she drew back and her bright face became expressionless. Just then Mat Nivers joined us Mat, whom the Lord made to smooth the way for everybody around her and we sat down for a visit. "We are all here, friends of my youthful days," Beverly went on, gaily.
"Shall I go down the shore road and call up the boys?" "Yes, and I'll take the Batsford road. If you see Doc Nivers tell him to call up the boys on the mountain road, will you?" "Yes. What of those at Brackett's plantation?" "I'll send Hackett or Purroy after them," answered Jack. The two lads separated, and Jack turned to his foster mother. "Mother, you heard what was said," he began.
That afternoon it happened that we left Mat Nivers at the hotel, while Rex Krane and Beverly and I strolled out of town on a well-beaten trail leading toward the west. "It looks interestin'. Let's go on a ways," Rex commented, lazily.
In the shadows of the porchway, I saw Santan creeping nearer to us as Beverly ran on flippantly: "I guess I'll marry a squaw, Little Blue Flower, maybe, like the Bents do, and live happily ever after." "I'm going to have a big fine house and live there all the time," Mat Nivers declared. Something in the earnest tone told us what this long journey had meant to the brave-hearted girl.
All that afternoon while Mat Nivers sang about her tasks Beverly and I tried to play together among the elm and cottonwood trees about our little home, but evening found us wide awake and moping.
Mat doesn't know the straight of it," Beverly began, dramatically. "There's going to be a war, or something, in Mexico, or somewhere, and a lot of soldiers are coming here to drill, and drill, and drill. And then " The boy paused for effect. "And then, and then, and then or some time," Mat Nivers mimicked, jumping into the pause. "Why, they'll go to Mexico, or somewhere.
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