e! The net about her had been skilfully drawn.

"I don't know Father Josef's motive, but I can trust him. And no shadow
shall trouble you long, Little Lees. Jondo and Uncle Esmond tote
together,' Aunty Boone said long ago. They know something about the
Ramero blood, and Jondo has promised to tell me his story some day. He
must do it to-night, and to-morrow we'll see the end of this tangle.
Trust me, Eloise," I said, comfortingly.

"But, Gail, I'm afraid Ferdinand will kill you if you get in his way."
Eloise clung to my arm imploringly.

"Six big Kiowas got fooled at that job. Do you think this thin streak of
humanity would try it?" I asked, lightly.

Eloise stood up beside me.

"I must go away now," she said.

"Then I'll go with you. Thank you, Father Josef, for your kindness," I
said as the priest came toward us.

"You are welcome, my son. In the sanctuary circle no harm can come.
Peace be with both of you."

There was a world of benediction in his deep tones, and his smile was
genial, as he followed us to the street and stood as if watching for
some one.

"I will meet you at San Miguel's to-morrow afternoon, Gail," Eloise
said, as we reached a low but pretentious adobe dwelling. "This is my
home now."

"Your new Mexican homes are thick-walled, and you live all on the
inside," I said, as we paused at the doorway. "They make me think of the
lower invertebrates, hard-shelled, soft-bodied animals. Up on the Kansas
prairies and the Missouri bluffs we have a central vetebra--the family
hearth-stone--and we live all around it. That is the people who have
them do. There isn't much home life for a freighter of the plains
anywhere. Good by, Little Lees." I took her offered hand. "I'm glad you
have let me be your friend, a hard-shelled bull-whacker like me."

The street was full of shadows and the evening air was chill as the door
closed on that sweet face and cloud of golden hair. But the pressure of
warm white fingers lingered long in my sense of touch as I retraced my
steps to the trail's end. At the church door I saw Father Josef still
waiting, as if watching for somebody.

All that Eloise had told me ran through my mind, but I felt sure that
neither financial nor churchly influence in Santa Fe could be turned to
evil purposes so long as men like Felix Narveo and Father Josef were
there. And then I thought of Esmond Clarenden, himself neither Mexican
nor Roman Catholic, who, nevertheless, drew to himself such