San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1923-04-23

getting to be friends. l don't want
! you 10 go"
Celantrie caught the honest hand
! ina clasp that would have hurt all
indoor woman, but Val Harmon re-
turned it closely.
For a tense moment they sat so,
looking deep into each others eyes.
1T is wrong. said the man at last
Il have no right to be friends with
girl like you. Not that my heart Is
wrong toward wOmen-that, at least,
can deny with honesty-but l am
black with other sins, Miss Harmon
sins among men,"
Walls look did not change.
So are lots of men l know" she
said simply. This country is full of
such. But a mans heart can be
made over"
Lord. Lord" said Velantrie, Il
see the padres life-work.
You, like the good priest, would
raise the sinner on your very heart !.
But in my case it cannot be. There is
reason why Velantrie-'sometime
of the Border'-cannOt change. Don't
trouble about me. am well and at
peace with myself"
Gently he laid down the hand he
had held so tightly clasped in his.
But l thank my stars, Miss Han
non, for-that night at Hunnewelrs.
| told you then | should not forget.
There are some things that are part
and parcel of ones life upon an i'll
slant. That moment there was one.
If | go l shall not forget"
But you won't CO." said Val, mot
to stay. You-will come back
sometimes-to the PADRES garden!"
Earnest, honest, simple as u child
she leaned forward and searched his
features-and the mans heart
lcaped, Numbered at his temples, set
sudden tremble in his lips. His
blue eyes grew soft and luminous as
summer lights i'll windows.
Val leaned nearer yet, her hand
reaching out uncOnsciOusly.
You will come-sometimes:'
YES" said Velantrie, thickly,
"sometimes-to the PADRES garden.
There can be no wrong i'll looking at
your face in the shadow of the Mis-
sion walls. Yes--I will come back. !"
And with a quick and graceful
motion, as if without volition, he
DtllL lON HUH Ills hlSoNb
that reaching hand.
Then he whirled his horse and was
gone toward the southland Val
Harmon ran Redcloud all the way to
Paradise. while the purple wells
draped all the spaces of the open
country and the mesas stood like an
cient ghosts.
CHAPTER XII.
The Cry in the Blind Trail Hills.
Rimming the world of the range
land at the east the Blind Trail Hills
rose stark into the heavens, their
western face Il band of rugged cliffs
that shut them in completely.
Far back and to the left, lost in Il
maze of gulches, peaks and canons,
there lay II tiny valley, fair as the
fields OF Paradise.
1t looked like a bit of Eden set
down in this prosaic world, innocent
of man. But man had found it out
and left his mark-the solid gate of
five slim saplings set square across
the mouth, their ends let into the
living rock itself where fitted slots
had been cut with some sharp in
strument. These saplings were
strong straight, and trimmed. n
neat and thorough hand had done
the job. They rose in the pass TO 81
height of some six feet and closed
the glade completely.
And what was this? A ragged
fringe of gnawed and shining fiber
clothing the two top ones from end
to end as with garment.
And what was that trimming the
green floor on all sides? A narrow
trampled path worn TO the dusty
earth beneath the grass by running
feet that circled tirelessly the bind
ing walls in an endless search for
freedom.
And what wondrous thing stood
yonder. picked boldly out in the
green floor rs the long rcd wells of
the early twilight came waving down
the rocks?
CONTINUED in Our Next Issue).