e into the old man's face.

"Garcia," he said, "you are a gentleman! It is the truth . . . this is
what Ernestine has wanted to tell David . . ."

Now, coming swiftly, came the time for a man to die. He died like a
man, fearlessly. He had made his hell knowing the thing he did; a hell
not of filth and darkness but of fierce white flames that purified. He
had walked through it, upright. He had lived without fear; he had done
wrong but had done so that another, greater wrong might not be done; he
had trodden his way manfully. He had suffered and had caused
suffering. But he had not regretted. He had committed his one
sin . . . if sin it were. After that his life had been clean. Not so
much as a lie had come after, even a lie to save his own life. And in
the end, the end coming swiftly now, it was well.

With David Drennen and Ygerne and Max close about him, his last
sensation the touch of their hands, his last sight the sight of their
tear-wet faces, knowing that when he was gone there would be one to
comfort his son, he died.

It was dawn. David Drennen and Ygerne Bellaire standing silent, head
bowed over the still form upon the bear skin, knew in their hearts that
there had been no tragedy wrought here. The lips turned up to them
were smiling. The man had died full of years, honoured in their
hearts, loved deeply. He had grown weary at the end of a long trail
and his rest had come to him as he wanted it.

They did not see Ramon Garcia who came softly to the door. For a
moment he stood looking in, seeing only the girl; slowly there welled
up into his soft eyes great tears. From his breast he took a little
faded bunch of field flowers. He raised them to his lips; for a
second, holding them there, he knelt, his eyes still alone for Ygerne.
Then he rose and crossed himself and went away.

They had not seen. But in a little they heard his voice as he rode
down into the canon. It was the old song, lilted tenderly, the voice
seeming young and gay and untroubled:

"_Dios_. It is sweet to be young . . . and to love."

CHAPTER XXV

THE BELATED DAWN

At last they passed out of the thick shadows which lay in the forest
lands and into the soft dawn light of the valley, Ygerne and David,
riding side by side. Behind them lay the hard trails which separately
each had travelled; before them now had the two trails merged, running
pleasantly into one; behind them, far back in the lonely solitude