San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1923-04-28

said. Its the end OF the World,
seems like-but j cannot tell it-not
even 10 you, for there's a secret with
it that's not mine"
But if all Paradise knew that Val
was in trouble. there was one who
gave it little thought-the boss him
self. John Harmon was a strange
man these days, who had always
been So to his subordinates. He
seemed strung like a singing wire.
full of energy. blazing with zest of
life that made him marked among
the slower blood of more youthful
men. He entered into the ranchers'
plans for the capture of the Black
Rustlcr with vim and apparent JOY.
Perhaps John lannon's magic"
he said pointedly TO them one day,
will work again-in another way"
And sometimes his eyes, dropped
quickly when he felt their tell-tale
fire, shone with that odd excitement
that was mad as lunacy.
"Th' best in its line" he muttered
to himself once smoking in the pa
ito, "th' Black Rustler is tn best in
his line"
When the ache in her breast be-
came so heavy as TO be uncomfortable,
when it seemed every breath she
drew was fraught with pain, when
only signs were on her lips to ease
the structure of her lungs, Val sad
died Dawnlight and went to Refu-
gio.
Padre" she said, standing by the
little table where she had listened
entranced to Velantre's pleasant
speech so long-so long ago it
seemed padre dear-I've come for
help"
Her lips uuivered with the trouble
some tears that were so near her
eyes now, and Father Hillaire looked
deep into her face. opened his old
arms and took her in against his
breast with her forehead pressed to
his shabby cassock.
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 its bitter end.
And Lolo called him, padre" she
sobbed. "the-ah the Black Rus
tler-and he-did not deny! He said
-ah .-that-he could not"
"What?' cried Father Hillaire. the
tears suddenly blinked from before
his vision, "why-he-"
Then he drew in his breath with q
whistling sound and said no more.
Higher Hands" he murmured,
perhaps-ah, well, it is in higher
Hands than mine, at last"
And to himself he said sadly,
Tragedy steps this way with her
head covered. All. Val, Val-my
little. little one, :"
But the habit OF wonderful life
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 he sue
coed that when she went back to
Paradise some four hours later Val
Harmon was her fathers daughter
once again, strong. contained, ready
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 haze
deepencd on the plains. and Indian
Summer came overnight. It's little,
cool winds were soft as the breath
Of child. the gold of its sunlight
thrice refined and tender.
SO the days went by on leaden
feet. sweet blue days. hazy, soft,
filled with the mystery of spring.
the mild content of summer, the
forecast of the fall.
Sometimes Val turned her eyes to
where Mesa Grande stood like a flat
topped mountain. and then she grew
weak in the knees, with memory of
that last terrible day, leaned against
wall and slow tears filled her eyes.
Briston smoked many cigarets I'M
der the stars and wove long webs
of thought and great unrest was
on his faithful heart. He saw many
things. that others did not and he
watched several persons covertly-
among them Jose.
He had long watched Jose. The
slim brown Mexican was very clever.
very quiet and contained. Miguel
and Arlas. the latter long since keep
ing house with pretty Felicia in
the good cabip beyond the third cor
ral-they we're clear ponds COM
pared to him. Also the Indian va
queros.
Jose, now. Jose with his fathom-
less eyes and his silent step-who on