excuse for placing
her under guard, remained for the future to develop. She turned these
things in her mind as they proceeded along the white river road toward
the ranch.

It came noontime, and decline of sun; the shadow of the mountains
reached down into the valley, the mist came purple again over the
foothills, the fire of sunset upon the clouds. Alan Macdonald still
lived, his strong harsh face turned to the fading skies, his tired
eyelids closed upon his dreams.

CHAPTER XX

LOVE AND DEATH

Maggie and Alvino had the ranch to themselves when the military party
from the upper valley arrived, Mrs. Chadron and Nola having driven to
Meander that morning. It had been their intention to return that
evening, Maggie said. Mrs. Chadron had gone after chili peppers, and
other things, but principally chili peppers. There was not one left in
the house, and the mistress could not live without them, any more than
fire could burn without wood.

Dusk had settled when they reached the ranch, and night thickened
fast. The lieutenant dropped two men at the corral gate--her guard,
Frances understood--and went back to his task of watching for armed
men upon the highroads.

Under the direction of Frances, Maggie had placed a cot in Mrs.
Chadron's favored sitting-room with the fireplace. There Macdonald lay
in clean sheets, a blaze on the hearth, and Maggie was washing his
wound with hot water, groaning in the pity which is the sweetest part
of the women of her homely race.

"I think that he will live, miss," she said hopefully. "See, he has a
strong breath on my damp hand--I can feel it like a little wind."

She spoke in her native tongue, which Frances understood thoroughly
from her years in Texas and Arizona posts. Frances shook her head
sorrowfully.

"I am afraid his breath will fail soon, Maggie."

"No, if they live the first hour after being shot, they get well,"
Maggie persisted, with apparent sincerity. "Here, put your hand on his
heart--do you feel it? What a strong heart he has to live so well!
what a strong, strong heart!"

"Yes, a strong, strong heart!" Tears were falling for him now that
there was none to see them, scalding their way down her pale cheeks.

"He must have carried something sacred with him to give him such
strength, such life."

"He carried honor," said Frances, more to herself than to Maggie,
doubting that she would understand.

"And love, maybe?" said Maggie, with soft word, soft up