Evening journal., 1923-02-17


arms and took her in against ms
breast with her forehead pressed to
his shabby cassook.
Tell me-" he said, what you
have learned"
And into this wise heart which
had been her safe confessional since
she could remember, she poured the
story OF her love and It's bitter emo
And Lolo called him, padre" she
sobbed, "the-ah,-the Black Ru5-
tler-and he-did not denyl He said
-ah!-that-he could not!'
What ?" cried Father Hillaire' the
tears suddenly Slinked from before
his vision, "why-he-"
Then he drew in his breath with
whistllng sound and said no more.
Higher Hands" he murmured'
"perhaps-ah. well, 1t Is in higher
Hands than mine. at last"
And 10 himself he said sadly
Tragedy steps this way with her
head covered. All, Val, Nal-my
little, little one!"
But the habit OF a wonderful lfe
was strong upon him and he gath-
cred his spiritual forces to weave
web OF comfort In which TO wrap
this young soul, quivering from its
first great blow. So well did ne
succeed that when she went back 10
Paradise some four hours later Val
Harmon was her fathers daughter
once again. strong. contained, reaay
to face the odds Of life with the
great courage that was inherent In
her.
So time passed. The heat Of the
summer lessened, the soft blue maze
deepened on the plains, and indian
Summer came overnight. Its htte
cool winds were soft as the breath
OF a child. the gold OF its sunlight
thrice refined and tender.
So the days went by on leadeh /
feet. sweet blue days. hazy' soft' |
filled with the mystery OF spring, the |
mild content OF summer, the fore
cast Of the fall.
Sometimes Val turned her eyes 70
where Mesa Grande stood ike a nat
topped mountain. and then she grew
weak in the knees with memory or /
that last terrible day. leaned against
a wall and slow tears filled her eyes.
Brlston smoked many cigarettes
under the stars and wove long W. rs
Of thought and a great unrest was
on his faithful heart. He saw many
things that others did not and ye
watched several persons covertly-
among them Jose.
He had long watched Jose. The
slim brown Mexican was very clever.
very quiet and contained. Migual
and Arias. the latter long since keep
ng house with pretty Felicia in the
good cabin beyond the third cor
were clear ponds COM
pared to him. Also the Indian va
lueros.
Jose, now. Jose with his fathom-
less eyes and his silent step-who on
he rancho so we'll fitted 10 leave the
place in the night and be back at
lawn with no one the wiser? Who,
Tor Instance, with the adroit cum
ming 10 wrap a horses feet? Who
made such fancy hackamores-to
bind a restless nose? And whose
3yes, among all the riders, lifted 10
he boss's with just that lightning
iicker. fell so swiftly when the flash
the two was done?
Yea, verily-Tom Briston wasted
ong night hours when he might
rave slept, and much good tobacco
CHAPTER XVIII
The Face I'm the Doorway
Once more Santa Leandra drowsed
leneath its trees. Like an ancient
lame among towns she sat above
Ter priceless stream, her old head -,
odding in the haze, her hands fold :
d in her lap. Her doors were open :
o the soft winds and the sunshine.
.er countless babies brawled in her
ilent streets. her nondescript dogs
lept on her sills.
At the tumble-down picket fence
hat flanked the Sanchez cabin
here stood a huge dark horse, III :.
1ade and awkward. its slug head !
rowsily hanging, it's broad hips
lung sidewise as IL rested. II was
ung together like a scaffold. and It !
eemed its giant bones must creak .
rhen II moved-but there was not a /
lan in Santa Leandra who knew
hat when it squared away in action
nth the open plain for field that
here was not a horse in all the Z
angeland that could catch It. q
either Dollar. nor Sill:skIn. nor yet
We OF lannon's Red Brood-save :.
nd except that lost glory OF Para
ise. Redstar. the king-that Light
ing himself could do no more than
IN with It.
CONTINUED I'm Our Next Issue.)