girl in the Mexican dress
loitering along the brown front of La Garita. And his keen eyes had
caught sight of Santan crouching in an angle of the wall, watching them.

"Indians and Mexes don't mix a lot. And Bev oughtn't mix with either
one," Rex commented. "I'll line the boy up for review to-morrow, so Mat
won't say I've neglected him."

But the Yankee took the precaution to follow the trail to the Indian's
possible abiding-place on the outskirts of Santa Fe. And it was Rex who
most aided Jondo in finding that the Indian had gone with Ramero's men
northward.

"That fellow is Santan, of Fort Bent, Rex," Jondo said.

"Yes, you thought he was _Santa_ and I took him for _Satan_ then. We
missed out on which to knock out of him. Bev won't care nothin' about
his name. He will knock hell out of him if he gets in that Clarenden
boy's way," Rex had replied.

At the chapel door now the Yankee turned away and rode down the trail
toward the little angle where an Indian arrow had whizzed at our party
an hour before.

In the shadow of a fallen mass of rock below the cliff Little Blue
Flower had spread her blanket, with Beverly's coat tucked under it in a
roll for a pillow, and now she sat beside the dying nun, holding the
crucifix to Sister Anita's lips. The Indian girl's hands were
blood-stained and the nun's black veil and gown were disheveled, and her
white head-dress and coif were soaked with gore. But her white face was
full of peace as the light faded from her eyes.

And Beverly! The boy forgot the rest of the world when one of the
Apache's arrows struck down the pony and the other pierced Sister
Anita's neck. Tenderly as a mother would lift a babe he quickly carried
the stricken woman to the shelter of the rock, and with one glance at
her he turned away.

"You can do all that she needs done for her. Give her her cross to
hold," he said, gently, to Little Blue Flower.

Then he sprang up and dashed across the river, splashing the bright
waters as he leaped to the farther side where Santan stood concealed,
waiting for the return of Ramero's Mexicans.

At the sound of Beverly's feet he leaped to the open just in time to
meet Beverly's fist square between the eyes.

"Take that, you dirty dog, to shoot down an innocent nun. And that!"
Beverly followed his first blow with another.

The Apache, who had reeled back with the weight of the boy's iron fist,
was too quick for the second thrust, struggling to get hold of his