nd sent him loping
off to town alone, but who had secretly followed him from thicket to
thicket, and stood ready in the market-place at last to lift him down;
it was Beltran who had given him his own rifle, had taught him to take
the bird on the wing, had led him out at night to see the great silent
alligator in his scale-armor sliding over the land from the coast and
plunging into the fresh waters of the bay,--who took him with him on the
long journeys for gathering in the cattle of the vast stock-farm, let
him sleep beside himself on the bare prairie-floor, like a man, with his
horse tethered to his boot, told him the spot in the game on which to
draw his bead, showed him what part to dress, and made him _chef de
cuisine_ in every camp they crossed; it was he who had taught him how to
hold himself in any wild stampede, on the prairie how to conquer fire
with fire, to find water as much his element as air; it is Beltran, in
short, who has made him this little marvel which at twelve years old he
finds himself to be,--this brother who serves him so, and whom he
adores, for whom he passionately expresses his devotion,--this brother
whom he loves as he loves the very life he lives. So Vivia, too, sits
down at Beltran's feet that day, and busies herself with those pink
plumes of the spoonbill's wings which he brought home to her,--so that,
when he wakes, he sees her standing there like the spirit of his dream,
her dark eyes shining out from under the floating shadowy hair, and the
rosy wings trembling on her little white shoulders. And just then
Beltran has no word for Ray, the customary smiling word always waited
for, since his eyes are on the vision at his feet, and straightway the
child springs down, springs where he can intercept Beltran's view, seems
to rise in his wrath a head above the girl, and, looking at Beltran all
the while, slaps Vivia on the cheek. Instantly two hands have clasped
about his wrists, two hands that hold him in a vice, and two eyes are
gazing down into his own and paralyzing him. Still the grasp, the gaze,
continue; as Vivia watches that look, a great blue glow from those eyes
seems to cloud her own brain. The color rises on Ray's cheeks, his angry
eyes fall, his chest heaves, his lips tremble, off from the long black
lashes spin sprays of tears, he cannot move, he is so closely held, but
slowly he turns his head, meets the red lips of the forgiving girl with
his, then casts himself with sobs on Be