ryard, which grew up
and up until it reached clear to the sky, where a giant lived. Juanito
Garcia had never heard the like. He was spellbound with delight; he
held his breath in ecstasy; only his toes moved, and they wriggled like
ten fat, brown tadpoles.

In the midst of this recital Garcia senior appeared in the door with a
warning.

"Conceal yourselves," he said, quickly. "Some of our neighbors are
coming this way." Inez led her guests into the bedchamber, a bare room
with a dirt floor, from the window of which they watched Juan go to
meet a group of horsemen. Inez went out, too, and joined in the parley.
Then, after a time, the riders galloped away.

When Alaire, having watched the party out of sight, turned from the
window she found that Dave had collapsed upon a chair and was sleeping,
his limbs relaxed, his body sagging.

"Poor fellow, he's done up," Father O'Malley exclaimed.

"Yes; he hasn't slept for days," she whispered. "Help me." With the
assistance of Dolores they succeeded in lifting Dave to the bed, but he
half roused himself. "Lie down, dear," Alaire told him. "Close your
eyes for a few minutes. We're safe now."

"Somebody has to keep watch," he muttered, thickly, and tried to fight
off his fatigue. But he was like a drunken man.

"I'm not sleepy; I'll stand guard," the priest volunteered, and,
disregarding further protest, he helped Alaire remove Dave's coat.

Seeing that the bed was nothing more than a board platform covered with
straw matting, Alaire folded the garment for a pillow; as she did so a
handful of soiled, frayed letters spilled out upon the floor.

"Rest now, while you have a chance," she begged of her husband. "Just
for a little while."

"All right," he agreed. "Call me in--an hour. Couldn't sleep--wasn't
time." He shook off his weariness and smiled at his wife, while his
eyes filmed with some emotion. "There is something I ought to tell you,
but--I can't now--not now. Too sleepy." His head drooped again; she
forced him back; he stretched himself out with a sigh, and was asleep
almost instantly.

Alaire motioned the others out of the room, then stood looking down at
the man into whose keeping she had given her life. As she looked her
face became radiant. Dave was unkempt, unshaven, dirty, but to her he
was of a godlike beauty, and the knowledge that he was hers to comfort
and guard was strangely thrilling. Her love for Ed, even that first
love of her girlhood, had been not