he was, in fact, in a sort of stupor, and not
infrequently he dozed for a moment or two in his saddle. Yet it was not
this which stilled his tongue, but a growing sense of guilt and dismay
at what he had brought upon himself. In a moment of weakness he had
done the very thing against which he had fought so bitterly, and now he
faced the consequences. How, when, where could he find strength to undo
his action? he asked himself. The weight of this question bent his
shoulders, paralyzed his wits.

Some two hours out from La Feria the riders halted at a point where the
road dipped into a rocky stream-bed; then, as the horses drank, Dolores
voiced a thought that had troubled all of them.

"If that bandit really means to spare us, why did he send us away in
the night, like this?" she asked. "I shall be surprised if we are not
assassinated before morning."

"He must have meant it." Alaire spoke with a conviction she did not
entirely feel. "Father O'Malley aroused the finer side of his nature."

"Perhaps," agreed the priest. "Somewhere in him there is a fear of God."

But Dave was skeptical. "More likely a fear of the gringo Government,"
said he. "Longorio is a four-flusher. When he realized he was licked he
tried to save his face by a grandstand play. He didn't want to let us
go."

"Then what is to prevent him from--well, from having us followed?"
Alaire inquired.

"Nothing," Dave told her.

As they climbed the bank and rode onward into the night she said: "No
matter what happens, dear, I shall be happy, for at last one of my
dreams has come true." He reached out and patted her. "You've no idea
what a coward I was until you came. But the moment I saw you all my
fears vanished. I was like a lost child who suddenly sees her father;
in your arms I felt perfectly safe, for the first time in all my life,
I think. I--I couldn't bear to go on without you, after this."

Dave found nothing to say; they rode along side by side for a time in a
great contentment that required no speech. Then Alaire asked:

"Dear, have you considered how we--are going to explain our marriage?"

"Won't the circumstances explain it?"

"Perhaps. And yet--It seems ages since I learned--what happened to Ed,
but in reality it's only a few hours. Won't people talk?"

Dave caught at the suggestion. "I see. Then let's keep it secret for
the present. I promise not to--act like a husband."

With a little reckless laugh she confessed, "I--I'm afraid I