Chapter 13 The Eyes of San Juan were upon Caleb Patton throughout the night and during the long hours of the following day. Under them his inflated ego grew further distended while waxing more technical than ever. He explained how a man in Rod Norton's condition could live and yet lie like a man dead. So prolific and involved were his medical phrases that men like John Eagle and Straub began to ask himself if Patton understood his case. When after twelve hours the wounded man awoke to a troubled consciousness Patton's relief was scarcely less visible than that of Norton's friends. Patton felt his prestige taking unto itself. New wings and immediately grew more wisely verbose than ever. It was a rare privilege to have the most talked-of and generally liked man of the community under his hands. It was wine to Patton's soul to have that man show signs of recovering under his skill.  Long before noon there were those who had laughed at Patton before, but who now accused themselves of having failed to him justice. Virginia Page had remained all night with her patient in La Celstralas. The first rumor she had of the fight in the Casablanca was born to hurriers by Ignacio's Bell. As she rode back towards San Juan only a few hours ago she had talked with Galloway, watching him banter with Flory Engel. But a little before that, earlier in the same day she had seen Rod Norton. Before she galloped up to the old Mission Garden her heart was beating excitedly and she was asking herself a little fearfully, is it Galloway or is it Rod Norton? For she was so sure that in the end Ignacio would ring the captain for one of them. Ignacio told her the story. Norton was lying in the hotel unconscious, Patton working over him, Jim Galloway and Antone were in the little jail and soon would be taken to the county seat. Kid Rickard was shot through the lung but would live, Patton said. The Del Nunez over whom the whole thing had started was dead.  If Ricardo to live, then the next time he will kill Galloway. You will see, senorita. She made no answer as she rode slowly down the street. She was thinking how only a few weeks ago she had heard the bells ring for the first time. How then Galloway and Norton had been but meaningless names to her. How she had been little moved by either the sound of pistol shots or the captain's heavy tolling. Now things were different. Just in what were they different? And to what degree? She could not answer her own question before she was at the hotel. Strav came immediately, noted her pale face, attributed it to a sleepless night and made her take a cup of coffee. He rounded out the information she already had from Ignacio. Norton was still unconscious though only a few minutes ago. Patton had reported signs of improvement. Mrs. Ingle had been with him, was still there acting nurse. He was being given every attention possible. Patton himself entered drawn by the aroma of coffee. He nodded carelessly to the girl and remarked to Strav, with a flash of triumph in his eyes that at last he had brought him around. Norton was very weak, sick, dizzy, perhaps not yet out of danger, but Patton had won in an initial skirmish with old man death. At least so Strav was given to feel. Virginia with a quick look at Patton's complacent face was moved with sudden, almost insistent longing. That broad Norton's life might be given into her own hands rather than remain in the pudgy hands of old man. She had once disliked as an individual and failed to admire as a physician. For she had needed no long residence in San Juan to form her own estimate of the man's ability, or lack of ability. But plainly this was Patton's case, not hers. She got up from the table and went to her own room.  She stood over him a moment her eyes tender. He was still, would always be, her baby brother. Then she went to her own room and threw herself down upon her bed, worn out, anxious, vaguely fearful for the future. It was a long day for San Juan. Mrs. Engle came now and then to Virginia's room to wipe her eyes and force a hopeful smile. Flory ran in like a young tempest to weep copiously and hyperbolically invest poor dear Roddy with imaginal heroic attributes. Engle and Strav and Tom Cutter were graveyed and distressed. Every hour Ignacio came to the hotel to ask quietly for news. In his own way it appeared that Elmer Page was as deeply concerned as any one. It was long before he told Virginia that he had been in the Casablanca when the shooting occurred, haltingly. He gave her his version of it. Don't you think, Elmer, suggested to girls somewhat wearily, that you have gotten hold of the wrong end of things here? I mean in choosing a friend, certainly after this you will have nothing to do with men like Galloway and Rickard. Timon's talk with Elmer gave her a deeper understanding of his attitude than she had been able to guess until now. Spontaneously he had leaned toward Kid Rickard because the kid was a killer. And Elmer was a boy. In other words, because Young Page's imagination made of Rickard a truly picturesque figure, since Rickard admired Jim Galloway as he had never known how to admire odd else that breathed and wonked. Elmer's eyes had from the first rested approvingly upon a massive figure of Casablanca's owner. That both Galloway and Rickard were fighting against persecution were merely individuals wronged by the law and too fearlessly independent to submit to the high hand of sheriff or judge was easily implanted in the boy's mind. Yesterday his fancies were ready to make heroes of Galloway and his crowd, to make of Norton a meddler hiding behind the bulwark of his office and hounding those who were too manly to step aside for him. But now Elmer was all at sea, no land in sight. Gun in each hand, sis! he cried warmly, his cheeks flushed, as the almost constantly recurring picture formed again in his memory. And if you could have only seen his eyes talk about hiding behind everything, no sir and him only one against Galloway and the kid and Nunez and a whole room full. Here was Elmer's trouble drawn to the surface. He was touched with leaping admiration for the man who lay now in the darkened room. He couldn't admire both Norton, the sheriff, and Galloway and Rickard, the sheriff's sworn enemies. Which way should Elmer page turn? Virginia very wisely held her tongue. Tom Cutter, having conferred with Engel and Staub, left San Juan in the early afternoon conveying his prisoners to the greater security of the county jail. It seemed the wisest step the one which Norton would have taken, besides Galloway, insisted upon it and upon being allowed to send a message to his lawyer. I am willing to stand trial, said Galloway indifferently. I'll arrange for bail tomorrow and be back tomorrow night. The question which Tom Cutter strove and Engel all asked of themselves and of each other. Did Marega get his chance to talk with Galloway? Went unanswered. There was nothing to do but wait upon the future to know that, unless Marega, now when he's way back to Sheriff Roberts, could be made to talk and Marega was not given to gruelity. In time Patton brought hourly reports of Norton. He was still endangered, be sure, but he was doing as well as could be expected. No one must go into the room except Mrs. Engel as nurse. Norton was fully conscious, but forbidden to talk. He recognized those about him, his eyes were clear, his temperature satisfactory, his strength no longer waning. He had partaken of a bit of nourishment and, tomorrow, if there were no un-look-for complications, he'd be able to speak with John Engel for whom he had asked. During the days which followed, days in which Rod Norton lay quiet in a darkened room, Virginia Page was conscious of having awakened some form of interest in Gallop Patton. His eyes followed her when she came and went, and when she surprised them, were withdrawn swiftly, but not before she had seen in them a specter that had thought from us. While she noted this, she gave it little thought, so occupied with her mind with other matters. So she postponed as long as she could, a talk with Julia Stroh. Her spirit galled that she must, in the end, go to him like a beggar, as she expressed it to herself. But one day, her head erected, she followed the hotel keeper into his office. In the hallway she encountered Patton. May I have a word with you? Patton asked. But Virginia had steeled herself to the interview of Strahm, and would no longer set it aside, even for a moment. If you care to wait on the veranda, she told Patton, I'll be out in a minute. I want to see Mr. Strahm now. Patton stood aside and watched her pass, the shrewdly questing look in his eyes. When she disappeared in the office he remained where she had left him, listening. When she began to speak with Strahm her voice rapid and hinting at nervousness, he came a quiet step nearer the door. She had closed after her. I'm ashamed of myself, Mr. Strahm, said Virginia, coming straight to the point. I owe you all ready for a month's board of room, rent for myself, and Elmer. I— That's perfectly all right, Miss Virginia, said Strahm hurdly. I know the sort of job you've got on your hands making collections. If you can wait, I am willing to do so. Glad to do so, in fact.  Smiling, he tiptoed down the hall and went out upon veranda, where he smoked his cigar serenely. When Virginia came out to him, her face was flaming. Had he not heard Strahm's word, he would have thought that his answer, to her apology, had been an angry demand for an immediate payment. Patton failed to understand how the girl's fine, independent nature writhed in a situation all but intolerable. That she appreciated, gratefully, Strahm's quick kindness did not minimise her own mortification. Patton watched her see herself, and he launched himself into his subject. Virginia listened at first with faint interest, then, with quickened wonder, for the life of her she could not tell if the little man were seeking to flatter or insult her. I have leased an old deserted ranch house just on the edge of town, he told her. Got it for a song, too. Some first-rate land goes with it. I'll probably buy the whole thing before long. There's plenty of good water. Now what am I up to, eh? Just the same thing all the time. If you want to know, and that means making money. Leaning forward he knocked the ash from his cigar and brought himself confidently nearer. An open-air sanatorium, he announced triumphally, for tuberculosis patients. There's lots of them. And he waved his arm in a wide half-circle, coming out of the east, on the run, scared to death, and with more or less money in their pockets. It's a big proposition, a sure money-getter. He grew more animated than she had ever dreamed he could be, as he sketched his plans. While she was wondering why he had come to her with them, he gave his explanation, made her his double offer. Then it was that she was puzzled, to know whether he meant to compliment her or merely to insult her. In a word he assured her from the heights of superiority to which he had ascended those last few days of importance. The practice of medicine was no woman's work at best, certainly not in a land like this, where a man's endurance, breath, or mind, and keener innate ability to cope with big situations were indicated. No work for a slip of a girl like Virginia Page. Of that, Calleb Patten assured her unhesitatingly. But there was work for such as her in a place which he would create for her. Fairly bewildered at his audacity, she found herself listening to his suggestion that she marry Calleb Patten and become a sort of head nurse in an institution which he would found. In spite of her she was moved to sudden impulsive laughter. She had not meant to laugh at the man who might be sincere, who, it was possible, was merely a fool but laugh she did, so that her mirth reached Rod Norton where he lay upon his bed and made him stir restlessly. What do you mean by that? demanded Patten a flush in his cheeks. I mean, stammered Virginia last, that I thank you very much, Dr. Patten, but that I can avail myself of neither the opportunity of being your wife or your head nurse. As for my inability to do for myself what I have set out to accomplish, well, I am not afraid yet. There is work to be done here, and I do not quite agree with you that it is all man's work. There is always a little left over for a woman. You know, she added brightly. But Patten was obviously angered. He flung to his feet and glared down at her. Perhaps it had not entered his thought that she could make other than the answer he wanted. It had been very clear to him that he was offering to become responsible for one who was embarked upon a voyage already destined to failure, that he would support her merely doing as many other men of his ilk did and make her work for all that she got. It's silly nonsense thinking you can make a living here, he said irritably. I am already established. I'm a man. I can have all the cases I want. You get only a few breeds who haven't a dollar to a dozen of them. If you are already broke and can't even pay for your room and board. Who told you that? she asked quickly. I can hear it, can I? he demanded coarsely. Didn't you go just now to beg Straub to hold you over and she slipped out of her chair and stood a moment staring coldly and contemptuously at him. Then she was gone, leaving Patten watching her departure incredulously. A man who hasn't any more sense than Calla Patten, she cried with himself, has no business with the physician's license.  Already she had forgotten her words with Straub or rather the matter for the present was shoved aside in her mind for another. She had come here to make good. She had her fight before her and she was going to make good. She had to, for herself, for her own pride for Elmer's sake. She went straight to Elmer and made him sit down and listen while she sketched actual conditions briefly and emphatically. He was old enough to do something for himself and the world, continued idleness, did him no earthly good, and might do him no end of harm morally, mentally, and physically. He had been her baby brother long enough. It was time that he became a man. She had supported him until now, asking nothing of him in return save that he kept out of mischief a certain percentage of the time. Now he was going to work and help out. He could go to John Engel and get something to do upon one of Engel's ranches. Somewhat to her surprise, Elmer responded eagerly. He had been thinking the matter over and it appealed to him. What he did not tell her was that he had seen some of the bank girls riding in from the outlying range's lean, brown, quick-eyed men who be strode high-headed mounts and who wore spurs, white hats, shaggy shafts, and who perhaps carried revolvers hidden away in their hip pockets, men who drank freely, spent their money as freely at dice and cards, and who, all in all, were a picturesque crowd. Elmer took up his hat and went down to the bank and had a talk with John Engel. Virginia's eyes followed him hopefully. That day Norton was allowed for the first time to receive callers. He had his talk with Engel limited to five minutes by Patton who hung about curiously until Norton said, pointedly, that he wanted to speak privately with the banker. Later Flory came with her mother, bringing an immense armful of roses, culled by her own hands, excited, earnest, entering the shaded room like a frightened child, speaking only in hushed whispers. "'Won't you come in, too, for a moment, Virginia?' asked Mrs. Engel. "'Roddy will glad see you,' he has asked about you.' But Virginia made an excuse. It was Patton's case, and after what had occurred between herself and Patton, she had no intention of so much as seeming to overlap the professional lines. The following day, however, she did go to see him. Patton himself stiff and borish asked her too. His patient had asked for her several times, knowing that she was in the building and marking how she made an exception and refused to look in on him while all of his other friends were doing so, some of them coming many times. Patton told her that Norton was not well by any means yet, and that he did not intend to have him worried up over an imagined slight. So Virginia did, as she was bid. Mrs. Engel was in the room bending over the bed with a dampened towel to lay upon Norton's forehead. He showed a sign of fever in his head ached constantly. He looked about quickly as the girl came in, his hands stirring a little, offering itself. She took it by way of greeting and sat down in the chair drawn up at his side. It's good of you to come, he said quickly, his eyes brightening. Was beginning to wonder if I had offended you in some way.  Especially when it's the first time he can remember when he was stuck in bed for upward of twenty-four hours running. Despite her familiarity with the swift ravages of illness, she received a positive shock as she looked at him. She had visualized him during these later days, as she had last seen him brown, vitally robust, the embodiment of lean, clean strength, now sunless, in action had set its mark on his skin, which had already grown sallow, his eyes burned into her own, his hand fell weakly to the coverlet as she removed her own, his fingers plucking nervously, and yet she summoned a cheerful smile to answer his. I was satisfied in hearing that you were doing well, she said, and I know that the fewer people a sick man sees, the better for him. He moved his head restlessly back and forth on his pillow. Not for a man like me, he told her.  I told Patent to-day that if he didn't let me see, folks, I'd get up and go out if I had to crawl. Virginia Laugh determined to be cheerful. I'm afraid that you make a rather troublesome patient, don't you, she asked lightly. Norton made no answer, but lay motionless, saved for the constant plucking of his coverlet. His eyes bootily fixed upon the wall. Mrs. Ingle, finding the water pitcher empty and saying that she would be back in two seconds, went out to fill it. Promptly, Norton's eyes returned to Virginia's face, resting there steadily. I've been dizzy and sick and half out of my head a whole lot, he said abruptly. But I've been thinking of you most of the time, dreaming about you, climbing cliffs with you. He broke off suddenly, but did not remove his eyes from hers. It was she who turned away, pretending to find it necessary to adjust the window curtain. It was impossible to sit quietly while he looked at her that way, his eyes all without warning, filling with a look for any girl to read a look of glowing admiration. Almost a look of pure love-making. Norton sighed and again his head moved restlessly on his pillow. Had time to think here a blade, he said after a little.  Myself, Jim Galloway, knew. I've decided to send word to the District Attorney to let Galloway go. He added, again watching her. I am not going to appear against him, and there's no case if I don't. But she began wondering. There are no buts about it. Suppose I can get him convicted, which I doubt. He'd get a light sentence, would appeal, and most would be out of the way a couple of years or so. And then it would all be to do over again, no? I want him out in the open, where he can go as far as he wants to go. And then she saw his body stiffened as he braced himself with his feet against the footboard. We won't talk shop, she said gently. Didn't good for you. Don't think about such things any more than you have to. Gotta think about something, he said impatiently. Can I think about you? Why not? She answered as lightly as she has spoken before. Maybe that isn't good for me either, he entered. Nonsense! It's always good for us to think about our friends. His eyes wandered from hers, rested a moment upon the little table near his bed-head, and came back to her, narrowing a little. We used to set a chair against that window shade, he asked. The light at the side hurts my eyes. It was a natural request, and she turned naturally to do what he asked. But even with her back turned she knew that he had reached out swiftly for something that lay on the table that he had thrusted out of sight under his pillow. Mrs. Engle returned and Virginia staying another minute said good-bye. As she went out she glanced down at the table. In her room she asked herself what it was that he had snatched and hidden. It seemed a strange thing to do in the question-perplexed her. While she attached no importance to it, it was there like a pebble in one shoe, refusing to be ignored. That night, just as she was going to sleep, she knew, out of a half-dose, she had visualized the table with its couple of bottles, a withering rose, a scrap of note-paper, a fountain pen, the pen. It was Patton's. Had evidently leaked and had been wiped carelessly upon the sheet of paper, left lying and with the paper half wrapped around it. She had noted carelessly a few scrawled words in Patton's slobberly hand, and she knew that it had been removed while she turned her back. Removed by hand, which, in its haste, had slipped the pen with it under the pillow. She went to sleep incensed with herself that she gave the matter another thought. But she kept asking herself what it was that Patton had written that Roderick Norton did not want her to read. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of The Bells of San Juan This Librovac Recording is in The Public Domain The Bells of San Juan by Jackson Gregory Chapter 14 A Free Man I'm a free man, if you please. The sheriff stood in the hotel doorway looking down upon her as she sat in her favorite brand of chair. I've given my keeper his fee and sent him away. May I watch you while you read? Virginia closed her book upon her knee and gave him a smile, by way of welcome. He looked unusually tall as he stood in the broad low entrance. His ten days of sickness, his inactivity, had made him gaunt and haggard. I shouldn't be reading in this light, anyway, she said. I hadn't noticed that the sun was down. It is good to be what you call free again, isn't it? He laughed softly, put his head back, filled his lungs. Then he came to her and stood leaning against the wall, his hat cocked to one side to hide the bandage. The world is good, he announced with gay positiveness, especially when you've been away from it for a spell and weren't quite sure what was next, and especially too when you've had time to think. Did you ever take off a week and just do nothing but think? One doesn't have time for that sort of thing as rule, she admitted. There's a chair standing empty if you care to let me in on your deductions. I don't want to sit down or lie down until I'm ready to drop, he grinned down at her. Bed makes me sick at my stomach and a chair is pretty near as bad. I'd like all mighty well to get a horse between my knees and ride. Suppose I'd fall to pieces if I tried it right now? Sure of it. And not so sure that you haven't discharged your keeper prematurely. You mustn't think of such things. There you go, forbidding me to think again. Believe I will sit down. Would you believe that a full grown man like me could get as weak as a cat this quick? He took the chair just beyond her, tilted it back against the wall, his booted heels caught under its elevated legs, and laced away from her to the colorful sky above San Juan scattered houses in the west. Yes, sir, he continued his train of thought. I'd like a horse between my knees. I'd like to ride out yonder into the sunset to meet the night as it comes down. I'd like the feeling of nothing but the stars over me instead of the smothery roof of a house. Doesn't it appeal to you too? Yes, she said. You and Paris's, with me on my big rhone riding, not as we rode the other night, but just for the fun of it. I'd like to ride like the devil. You don't mind my saying what I mean, do you? To go scooting across the sagebrush, letting out a yell at every jump, boring holes in the night with my gun? Making all the racket and dust that one man can make? Ever feel that way? Just like getting outside and making a noise? Let me talk. I'm the one who has been shut up for so long my tongue has started to grow fast through the roof of my mouth.  Then came the hours in which I could do nothing but think, under orders to keep still. Think. Why I thought about everything that ever happened. Most things that might happen in a whole lot that never will. Now comes the third stage. I can talk better than I can walk. Do you mind listening while a man raves? Not in the least. She found his mood contagious and smiling in that quick, bright way natural to her. Showed for a moment the twin dimples of which, together with a host of other things, he had ample time to think during his bedroom imprisonment. Please, Raymond. In due course, he mused, the fourth stage will arrive and I can be doing something besides thought, can't I? Now let me tell you about the King's Palace. You begin well. The King's Palace is where we are going on our first outing. That was decided three days ago at four minutes after six a.m. You and I and, if you like, plorry and your kid brother will ride out there in the very early morning in the saddle before the stars are gone. We'll lunch and loaf there all day. For lunch we will have bacon and coffee cooked over fire in one of the Palo Santé rooms. We will have some trout fried in the bacon grease. Trout whipped out of the likeliest mountain stream you ever saw or heard about. We will have cheese perhaps and maybe a box of candy for dessert. We'll ride home in the dusk and the dark. The King's Palace, she asked curiously. I never heard of such a place.  Not a bit of it. It's all that's left of some of the old ruins of the same folk who lived in the caves up on the cliffs. Do you know why I'm bound to get Jim Galloway's tag sooner or later? Her mind, with his, had touched upon the hidden rifles and the abrupt digression, was no digression to her, reached by the span of suggestion. Because he is in a wrong and you're in the right, or in other words, because he opposes the law and you represent it. Because he plays the game wrong, some more results of a long week of nothing to do but think things out. There is just one way for a lawbreaker to operate if he means to get away with it. You mean that a man can get away with it? Surely not for good. But he nodded thoughtfully at the slowly fading strata of shaded colors splashed across the sky. A man can get away with it for keeps. If he plays the game right. Jim Galloway isn't that man and so I'll get him. He has ignored the first necessary principle, which is the lone hand. You mean he takes men into his confidence? And he goes on and ignores the second necessary principle. A man must stop short of murder. If he turns gang man and killer, he ties his own rope around his neck. A man like Galloway, a man with brain's power, without fear, without scruple, could decide to loot this corner of the world, or any other corner and set about it right, playing the lone hand invariably. He would be a man I couldn't bring in in a thousand years. But Galloway slipped up. He has too many maragas and antones and fiddles at his heels. He has been the cause directly or indirectly of too many killings. A theft will be forgotten in time.  Spilled blood cries to heaven after ten years. Galloway is back in San Juan. I know. I wanted him back. I wanted him free and unhampered. He'll be bolder than ever. Now, won't he? If this case is dropped. He's come out a little into the open already. He'll be tempted out a little further. There'll be more of his work soon, a robbery here or there. And he will grow so sure of himself that he'll get careless. Then I'll get him. But have you the right? She asked quickly. Knowing him a lawbreaker, have you the right to allow him to go further and further? Just because in the end you hoped to get him. He met her look with a smile which puzzled her. I'll answer your question when you define right and wrong for me. He said quietly. They grew silent together, watching the gradual sinking of day into twilight and early dusk. Norton for all his vaunted ravings had grown thoughtful, Virginia turning her eyes toward him, while his worst staring out beyond the housetops saw in them a look of deep, frowning speculation.  What do you think of Patton? He asked. Startled by his abruptness characteristic of him, though it was to-day, she asked in a puzzled fashion. What do you mean? Not as a man, he said, withdrawing his gaze from the sunset and bestowing it gravely upon her. As a physician, he sizing up as capable of her as something of a quack. She hesitated, but finally she made the only reply possible. Of course, you don't expect any answer, knowing that you should not come to one member of a profession for an estimate of another. Besides, you realize that I had known nothing whatever of Dr. Patton, either as a man or as a physician. He laughed softly. Hedging. Pure, unadulterated hedging. I didn't look for that from you. Shall I tell you what we both think of him? He is a farce and a fake, and I rather think that I am going to run him out of the state pretty soon.  Patton doesn't guess yet. That it was the blow Maraga gave me the other night which came so close to ringing down the sable curtains for me. Maraga, she asked with quickened interest, not the same Maraga who shot Baraki Lane. The same little old Maraga, he assured her lightly. He didn't mention her bra, and, of course, I don't think Galloway got a chance to talk with him, and we're not sure yet that he even knows Maraga was here. But I know somebody put me out in the dark by hammering me over the head, and Tom Cutter found blood on Maraga's revolver. But we want her farfield. Coming back to Patton, we agree that he's something of a dub. I'd rather not discuss him. Exactly, and I, being in the talkative way, I am going to tell you that he has made blunders before now.  I had my suspicions and began instituting inquiries. That now I am fully prepared to learn that Callip Patton has no more right to an MD after his name than I have. You must be mistaken. I hope you are. Men used to do that sort of thing, but under existing laws. Under existing laws men do a good many things, and about San Juan, which they shouldn't do. I've found out that there was a Callip Patton who was a young doctor, that there was a Charles Patton, his brother, who was a young scamp, that they both lived in Baltimore a few years ago, that from Baltimore they both went hastily. No man knows where. This gentleman, whom we have with us, might be either one of them. Here comes Ignacio. Quei, Ignacio. Quei, Ricardo, responded Ignacio. Coming to lean languidly against the veranda post, he removed his hat elaborately, his liquid eyes doing justice to Virginia's dainty charm. Why not start a seniorita? He greeted her. What a new Ignacio, queried Norton. No bells for you to ring. For the last ten days you grow fat, nightliness, amigomiel. Ignacio sighed and rolled his cigarette. What is new, you ask? No? Well, this is new. He lifted his eyes suddenly and they were sparkling as with suppressed excitement. The devil himself has made a visit to San Juan. See, senior, see, seniorita, it is so. Virginia smiled, Norton gravely asked the explanation. Why should his satanic majesty come to San Juan?  But he came, and more bad will come from his visit. More and more of evil things. One knows. Sego, que si? One knows. But I will tell you. And this seniorita, no one else knows of it. It was while in a castle, Blanca. Men are shooting, while Rodrigo Norton will make his arrest of poor Vidal, who is dead now. He crossed himself and drew a thoughtful puff from his cigarette. I ran faster than the bells. I came into the garden and it is dark. I came under the bells. And while my hand could not find a rope, see, senior and seniorita, before I touched the rope, the captain begins to ring. Just a little, not long. Lo and quiet and angry. And then he stopped and I shiver. He did his heart not to run out of the garden, but I crossed myself and find the ropes and to make all the bells dance. But I know it was a devil who was before me. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 of the Bells of San Juan This liberal box recording is in the public domain. The Bells of San Juan by Jackson Gregory Chapter 15 The King's Palace Not only was Galloway back in San Juan, but as Norton had predicted of him, he appeared to have every assurance that he stood in no unusual danger. There had been a fight in a dark room and one man had been killed, certain others wounded. The dead man was Galloway's friend, hence it was not to be thought that Galloway had killed him. Kid Rickard was another friend, as for the wound that Rod Norton had received, who could swear that this man or that had given it to him. Chances are Galloway had already said in many quarters that Tom Cutter, getting excited, popped over his own sheriff. True, it was quite obvious that a charge lay at Galloway's door, that of harboring a fugitive from justice and of resisting an officer. But with Galloway's money and influence, with the shrewdest technical lawyer in the state retained, with ample perjured testimony to be had as desired, the lawbreaker saw no reason for present uneasiness. Perhaps more than anything else, he regretted the death of Vidal Nunez and the wounding of Kid Rickard. For these matters vitally touched Jim Galloway and his swollen prestige among his henchmen. He had thrown the cloak of his protection about Vidal, had summoned him, promised him all safety, Vidal was dead. He knew that men spoke of this over and over, and hushed when he came upon them. That Vidal's brother Pete grumbled and muttered that Galloway was losing his grip. That sooner or later he would fall, that falling he would drag others down with him, more than ever before the whole county watched for the final duelo between Galloway and Norton. In half a dozen small towns and mining camps, men laid bets upon the results. For the first time also there was much barbed comment and criticism of the sheriff. He had gotten his man and that it was true, and yet after all this time he seemed to be no nearer than at the beginning to getting the man who counted. There were those who recalled the killing of Bisbee of Los Palmos and reminded others that there had been no attempt at prosecution. Now there had come forth from the Casa Blanca, fresh defiance on lawlessness and still, Jim Galloway came and went as he pleased. Those who criticized said that Norton was losing his nerve, or else that he was merely incompetent, when measured by the yardstick of swift and sysive action wedded to capability. If he can't get Jim Galloway, let him step out of the way and give the chance to a man who can, was said many times and in many ways. Even John Engel, Julius Drove, Tom Cutter, and Rocky Lane came to Norton at one time or another telling him what they had heard, urging him to give some heed to popular clamor and to begin legal action. Put the skids under him, Roddy, pleaded Rocky Lane. We can't slide him far on the first trip, maybe, but a year or so in jail will break his grip here.  He was playing the game his way. The rifles are still in the cache, he told Rocky. He is getting ready as we know further, just as my friends are beginning to find fault with me. So we're here as hangers on, beginning to wonder if they haven't tied to the wrong man. Just to save his own face, he'll have to start something pretty pronto. And we know about where he is going to strike. It's up to us to hold our horses, Rocky. Rocky growled a bit, but he went away more than half persuaded. He called at the hotel, paid his respects to Virginia, and affording her a satisfaction which it was hard for her to conceal, also paid her. For her service rendered him in the cliff floor's cave. Often enough, the man who tilts with the law is, in most things, not unlike his fellows, different alone, perhaps, in the one essential that he has borne a few hundreds of years late in the advance of civilization, going about that part of his business which has its claims to legitimacy, mingling freely with his fellows. He fails to stand out distinctly from them as a monster, giving the slow passing of uneventful time and it becomes harder and harder to consider him as a social menace when the man is of the Jim Galloway type. His plans large, his patience long. He may even pass out from the shadow of a gallows tree in return to occupy his former place in the quiet community life while his neighbors are prone to forget or condone. As other days came and slipped by and the weeks grew out of them, Galloway's was a pleasant, untroubled face to be seen on the street at the post office behind his own bar on the country roads. He ignored any animosity which San Juan might feel for him. If a man looked at him stonely, Galloway did not care to let it be seen that he saw if a woman turned out to avoid him no evidence that he understood darkened his eyes. He had a good, humid word to speak always. He lifted his hat to the banker's wife. As he had always done, he mingled with the crowd when there were exercises at the little school house. He warmly congratulated Miss Porter, the crabbed old maid teacher, on the work she had accomplished and made her wonder fleetingly if there wasn't a bit of good in the man, after all. Perhaps there was. There is in most men, and Florie Engel was beginning to wonder the same thing. For Rod Norton, recovered and about his duties was not quite the same touchingly heroic figure he had been while lying unconscious and in danger of his life. Nor was it any part of Florie Engel's nature to remain long either upon the heights or in the depth of an emotion. The night of the shooting she had cried out passionately against Galloway. As days went their placid way, she saw Galloway upon each one of them and did not see a great deal of Norton, who was either away or monopolizing Virginia. She took the first step in the gambler's direction by beginning to be sorry for him. First it was too bad that Mr. Galloway did the sort of things which he did. No doubt he had no mother to teach him when he was very young. Next it was a shame that he was blamed for everything that had to happen. Maybe he was a bad man, but Florie simply didn't believe he was responsible for half of the deeds laid at his door. Finally, through a long and intricate chain of considerations, the girl reached the point where she nodded when Galloway lifted his hat. The smile in the man's eyes was one of pure triumph. Oh, my dear! Florie burst into Virginia's room, flushed in pallipant with her latest emotion. He has told me all about it, and, you know, I don't believe that we have the right to blame him. Doesn't it say in the Bible or somewhere that greater praise or something shall no man have than he who gives his life for a friend? That's something like that, anyway. Aren't people just horrid? Always blaming other people, never stopping to consider their reason to impulses and looking at it from their side. But down Nunes was a friend of Mr. Galloway's. He was in Mr. Galloway's house, of course. But he didn't speak to him any more. He didn't for a long time, but if you could have only seen the way he always looks at me when I bump into him, Fergie, I believe he is sad and lonely in that he would like to be good if people would only give him a chance. Why, he is human after all, you know. Virginia began to ask herself, if Galloway were merely amusing himself with Flory or if the man were really interested in her. It did not seem likely that a girl like Flory would appeal to a man like him, and yet why not? There is at least a grain of truth, if no more, in the old saw of the attraction of opposites. And it was scarcely more improbable that he should be interested in her than that she should allow herself to be ever so slightly moved by him. Furthermore, in its final analysis, emotion is not always to be explained. Virginia set herself the task of watching for any slightest development of the man's influence over the girl. She saw Flory almost daily, either at the hotel to which Flory had acquired the habit of coming in the cool of the afternoons or at the angle home. And for the sake of her little friend, and at the same time for Elmer's sake, she threw the two youngsters together as much as possible. They quarreled rather a good deal, criticized each other with startling frankness, and grew to be better friends than either realized. Elmer was of a quarrel now, as he explained whenever need be or opportunity arose. Warships, a knotted handkerchief about a throat which daily grew more brown, spurs as large and noisy as were to be encountered on San Juan Street, and his right hip pocket bulged. None of the details escaped Flory's eyes. He called her fluff now, and she nick-tamed him Blackbill, and she never failed to refer to them mockingly.  I was so sorry. She had offered her sympathy during a lull in the conversation, drawing the attention of her father, mother, and Virginia to Elmer, whose face reddened promptly. Flory! chided Mrs. Ingle, hiding the twinkle in her own eyes. Oh, her! said Elmer with a wave of the hand. I don't mind what Fluff says, she's just trying to kid me. Toward the end of the evening, having been thoughtful for ten minutes, Elmer adopted Flory's tactics, and remarked suddenly and in a voice to be heard much further than his needed to carry. Say, Fluff! saw an old friend of yours the other day, and when Flory, gun shy as Elmer called her, was too wise to ask any questions he hastened on. Juanito Miranda, it was, said he's best. So did Mrs. Juanito, where upon it was Flory's turn to turn a scarlet of mortification and anger. For Juanito had soft black eyes and almost equally soft black mustache, with probably a heart to match. And only a year ago Flory had been busy making a hero of him, when he, the blind one, took unto himself an Indian bride, and in all innocence heaped shame high upon the blond head. How Elmer unearthed such ancient history was a mystery to Flory, but nonetheless she hated him for it. They saw a very great deal of each other, each serving as a sort of balance-wheel to the other's self-centered complacency. Perhaps the one subject upon which they could agree was Jim Galloway. Elmer still liked to look upon the gambler as a colossal figure standing serene among wolves, while Flory could admit to him with no fear of a chiding, that she thought Mr. Galloway simply splint. One evening after having failed to show himself for a full month, Rod Norton came to the Engels, found Elmer in Virginia there, and suggested the ride to the King's Palace. He awakened no end of enthusiasm. Elmer had to day off, thanks to the generosity of his employer, Mr. Engel, and had just secretly purchased a fresh outfit consisting of a silver-mounted Spanish bit, a new pair of white and unspeakingly shaggy, draggy shafts, a wide hat with a band of snake-hide and boots that were the final whisper in high-heeled discomfort. Flory disappeared into her room to make her own little riding costume as irresistible as possible. They were to start with the first streaks of dawn tomorrow, just the four of them, since the banker and his wife, Luke Warmly, invited, had no desire for a forty-mile ride between morning and night. It was Rod Norton's privilege to lead his merry party into what for them was wonderland. Even Flory, though so much other life had been passed in San Juan, had never before visited the King's Palace. Clattering through the street while most folks were asleep, they took advantage of the cool of the dawn and rode swiftly, Elmer and Flory racing on ahead, laid aside their accustomed weapons, and were, for the once, utterly flattering to each other. Each wishing to be admired admired the other, and was paid back in a thick coveted coin. Norton and Virginia, at first a little inclined toward silence, soon grew as noisily merry as the others, drawing deep enjoyment from the moment. And at the portals of the King's Palace, reached after four hours in a saddle followed by thirty minutes on foot, they stood hushed with wonder. High upon the southern slope of Mount Temple, they had come abruptly into the unexpected. Here, a rugged plateau had caught and held through the ages the soil, which had weathered down from the cliffs above. Here were trees to replace the weary gray brush, shade instead of glare, birds as welcome substitutes for droning insects, water and flowers to make the canyons doubly cool and fragrant for him, who had ascended from the dry reaches of sand below the talus. It's just like fairy land, cried the ecstatic Flory. Roddy Norton, I think you're real mean not to have brought me here ages ago. Ages ago, dear miss, laughed Norton. You were too little to appreciate it. You should thank me for bringing you now. Down to the middle of the plateau, from its hidden source ran the pearling stream, which was destined to yield to sun and thirsty earth, long before twisted down the lower slopes of the hills, the longest edges the grass was thick and rich, shot through everywhere with little blue blossoms and the golden gleam of the starflowers. Further promise of yellow beauty was given by the stalks of the evening primrose scattered on every hand. The flowers furled now, sleeping, in the groves were pines, small cedars, and a sprinkling of sturdy dwarf oaks, and from their shelter came the welcome sound of a bird's twitter. It's always about as you see it, Norton explained, too hard to get to, too small when one makes the climb to afford enough path to reach for sheep, and now the palace itself. Straight ahead the cliffs overhung the further rim of the plateau, and there, under the outjudding roof of rock, an ancient people had fashioned themselves a home, which stood now as when their hands laboriously set it there. Protected ledge, which afforded eternal foundation, was slightly above the plateau's level, to be reached by a series of steps in the rock, steps which were holds worn deep perhaps five hundred years ago. The climb was steep, hazardous, unless one went with due precaution. But the four holiday makers hurried to begin it. So close to the edge of rock did the walls of the ruin stand, that there was barely room to edge along it to come to the narrow doorway, holding hands Norton in the lead, Elmer in the rear. They made their breathless way, and then they were in the hushed, shaded anti-room. The dust of untroubled ages lay upon the surprisingly smooth floor. Walls of cemented rock rose intact on two sides, broken here and there on a third, while the cliff itself made the fourth at the rear. And unusually spacious, wide and high-ceilinged, was this room, which may have had its use when time was younger as a council chamber. At one end was another door, small and dark and forbidding, leading to another room, beyond lay other quarters a long line of them, which might have housed gores in their time. While Flory, letting out little shrieks now and then, interspersed with gay cries of delight, led a half-timorous way, and Elmer went with her upon the tour of Discovery. Virginia Norton stood a moment at the front entrance, looking down upon the fertile plateau, across it to the level miles running out to San Juan and beyond. Who were they? asked Virginia, unconscious of a half-science she withdrew abstracted eyes from the wide panorama, which had filled the vision of so many other men and women and little children before the white man came to claim the New World. They who builded here and lived and died here, what has become of them? Where did they go? All questions asked a thousand times and never answered. I don't know, but they're good builders, good engineers, good pottery-makers, good farmers and hunters and fighters. Rather a goodly crowd I take it. Come, I'll share my secret with you, while Flory and Elmer discover the skeleton a little farther on and stop to exclaim over it. Norton's secret was a hidden room of the King's Palace. While many men knew of the palace itself, he believed that none other than himself had ever ferreted out this particular chamber, which he called the Treasure Chamber. It was to be reached by clambering through an orifice of the eastern wall, over a clutter of fallen blocks of stone and a score of feet along the narrowing ledge. Just before they came to the point where the encroaching wall of cliff denied further foothold, they found a fissure in the rock itself wide enough to allow them to slip into it. Again they climbed, coming presently to a ledge smaller than the one below and hidden by an outer thrust boulder. Here was the last of the rooms of the King's Palace, cunningly masked, or to be found only by accident, even the cramped door concealed by the branches of a tortured cedar. Norton pushed them aside and they entered. I have cached a few of my things here, he told her as they confronted each other in the gloom of the room's interior. And the joke of it is that my hiding place is almost, if not quite, directly below the caves where Galloway's rifles are. This is a secret, mind you. If you look around you'll find some of the articles of our friends with dollars left behind them when they made their getaway. In a dark corner she found a blackened coffee pot and a frying pan, proclaiming anachronistically that here was the 20th century, interloping upon the 15 articles which Norton had hidden here. In another corner were jumbled the things which the ancient people had left to mark their passing, an earthenware water jar, half a dozen spear and arrow-points of stone, a clumsy-looking axe still fitted to its handle of century-seasoned cedar bound with thongs. But, it claimed the girl, the wood, the rind! They would have disintegrated long ago. They must belong to the age of your coffee pot and frying pan. The air is bone-dry, you reminded her. What little rain there is never gets in here. Nothing decayed, look yonder. You showed her a basket made of wreath, a graceful thing, skillfully made, small, frail-looking, and as perfect as the day it had come from a pair of quick-brown hands under a pair of quick-black eyes. She took it almost with a sense of awe upon her. Keep it, will you, you ask lightly, as a memento, presented by a caveman through your friend the sheriff. Now, let's get back before they miss us. I may have needed this place some time, and I'd rather no one else knew of it. They made their way back as they had come and in silence. Virginia treasuring the token and with it the sense that her friend the sheriff had cared to share his secret with her. They made of the day an occasion to be remembered, to be considered wistfully and retrospect during the troubled hours so soon to come to each one of the four of them. While Elmer and Flory gathered firewood, Norton showed Virginia how simple a matter was here in this seldom visited mountain stream to take trout. Cool shaded pools under overhanging gouged-out banks, tiny falls, and shimmering riffles all housed the quick-speckled beauties. Then, as Norton had predicted, the fish were fried crisp and brown and sizzling bacon grease, while the thin wafers of bacon garnished the tin plate vetted in hot ashes.  And throughout the long lazy afternoon they loitered as it pleased them, picked flowers, wandered anew through the ruins of the King's Palace, lay by the singing water, and were quietly content. It was only when the shadows had thickened over the world in the promise of the primroses was fulfilled that they made ready for the return ride. Before they had gone down to their horses, the moths were coming to the yellow flowers tumbling about them, filling the air with the frail beating of their wings. At Strav's Hotel, Elmer and Virginia had ridden on to Ingle's home. Virginia told Norton good night, thanking him for a perfect day. As their hands met for a little she saw a new, deeply probing look in his eyes, a look to be understood. He towered over her physically superb. As she had felt it before, so now did she experience that odd little thrill born from nearness to him, go singing through her. She withdrew her hand hastily and went in. In her own room she stood a long time before her glass, seeking to read what lay in her own eyes. Tom Cutter was waiting for Norton merely to tell him that a stranger had come to San Juan, a Mexican with all the earmarks of a gentleman and a man of means. The Mexican's name was Enrique Del Rio. He evidently came from below the border. He had lost no time in finding Jim Galloway, with whom he had been all afternoon. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of The Bells of San Juan This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Bells of San Juan by Jackson Gregory Chapter 16 The Mexican from Mexico Enrique Del Rio promptly became known to San Juan as the Mexican from Mexico. This to distinguish him from the many Mexicans as San Juan knew them, who had never seen the turbulent field of intrigue and revolt from which their sires had come. He showed himself from the outset to be a gentleman of culture, discernment and ability. He was suave, he was polished, he gave certain signs of refinement. His first afternoon and evening he bestowed upon Jim Galloway. The second day found him registered at Strav's Hotel. The following morning he presented himself with a chief of credentials at the bank, asking for John Engel. With him came Ignacio Chavez in the role of interpreter. Del Rio spoke absolutely no English, and had informed himself that Engel Spanish was inadequate for the occasion. He is Sr. Don Enrique Del Rio, explained Ignacio, touched by the spell of the other's munificence and immaculate clothes. He would like to shake the hand of Sr. Engel to become acquainted and then friends. He brings papers to tell who and what he is in Mexico City. Once he has departed because of too damn much fight down there, he wishes to put some money here in the Banco, which he can take away again to buy a big ranch in many cattle and horses. He has the other money in a Banco in New York, where he sent it out from Mexico two, three months ago, and so on, while Engel gravely listened and shrewdly after his fashion and business hours probed for the inner man under the outer polish, while Del Rio nodded and smiled and never withdrew his night-black eyes from Engel's face. Del Rio had appeared, had gone first to the Casablanca because he had heard of Jim Galloway as one of the most influential man of the county. Since arriving in San Juan, however, he had heard this and that, mere rumors, which caused him to come to Engel. He, a stranger, could ill afford in the beginning to have his name coupled with that of any man not known for his spotless integrity. Sr. Engel understood. Later, when Del Rio had found the properties to his liking and had built a home, his wife and two daughters would arrive. Now they traveled in California. In the end Engel accepted the Mexican's deposits, which amounted to approximately a thousand dollars, and which were to be drawn against merely as an expense account until Del Rio found his ranch. And the first item of expense was the purchase from Engel himself of a fine, saddle animal, a pure-blooded, clean-limbed, young mayor's sister to purses, after which the Mexicans spent a great deal of his time writing about the country, looking at ranches. He visited Engel's two places, called upon Nortrin at Los Flores, ferreting out prices, looking at water and feed, examining soil. It was a bare fortnight after the coming of Del Rio, when out of Los Palmos came word of fresh lawlessness. The superintendent of the three Quigley Mines had been surprised the night before Payday, forced at the point of a revolver to open his own safe, and robbed of several thousand dollars. A man on horseback rushed word to San Juan, found Tom Cutter, who located Nortrin the same afternoon at his ranch at Los Flores.  They will talk more than ever now, saying that it's up to you to get results and that you don't get them. The stick up was last night after the Sheriff Cooley. Yes, snap Cutter, you were in San Juan. Yes. Where was Jim Galloway? Was he in town? No, he wasn't. I don't know where he was, but I do know where he ought to be. Was that Mexican gent Del Rio in town? Cutter opened his eyes. No, I don't think so. You haven't got anything on him, have you? Only what you told me. Remember, his first day in San Juan, he went to Galloway, like a homing pigeon. Norton went for his horse, saddled and rode swiftly to Los Palmas. In a mining camp, he went immediately to the office of Nate Kimball, the superintendent, whom he found cursing voluably. It's up to you where the sharp words of greeting is Kimball wheeled upon the Sheriff.  Anyway, good Lord man, if you can't cut the mustard, why don't you crawl out and let a man who can wear that star? Easy there, Kimball, said Norton quietly. You can do your ranting and pitching after I'm gone. Tell me about it. What time did it happen? It was hardly dark. How many men jumped you? Just one, but just one, eh? He pondered the information. That isn't the usual brand of Galloway work, is it? Got a good slant at him? Had his clothes growled, Kimball, slamming himself down dejectedly in his chair? His face was hit, of course. Ever see a Mexican named Del Rio? Like cutter before him, Kimball started.  Del Rio is a pretty big man for a Mexican. Was this high woman about his size? Kimball hesitated.  Had a guess, I'd say that the man who stuck me up was a little taller than Del Rio, but I wouldn't swear to it. Might have been Del Rio himself then, Norton insisted. Yes, or it might have been a devil's grandmother. I don't see anything of Del Rio the last few days. I saw him yesterday. He was in camp, who's talking minds. See anything of Galloway here abouts of late? No, I haven't seen him for a month or two. Norton asked a few other questions, kept his own thoughts to himself and rode away. Less than a mile from the camp, he met Jim Galloway riding a sweat wet horse. Two men reigned in sharply, each man's eyes matching the others for hardness. Galloway's face was red, the fiery red of anger. Going back for what you forgot, Jim? Asked Norton. For a moment, Galloway, staring back at him, seemed utterly speechless in the grip of his wrath. Norton did not remember ever having seen such blazing anger in the prominent eyes. Between you and me, Rod Norton, what had Galloway at last, I have turned a trick or two in my time, but this job is none of my doing. And if I wise up as to who put it over, he'll go under the sand or into the pen. And I'll put him there. Norton laughed. In other words, some freelance has made a bid to break your corner on the crime market, eh, Richard? Put one over on you without your knowledge and consent, and without splitting two ways? So what you mean? I mean that I'd pay five hundred dollars out of my own pocket right now for that dead wood on that man who robbed Kimball. Kid Rickard is around once more. Sure he didn't do it? Yes, I am. Kid Rickard didn't do it. Norton eased himself into the saddle thoughtfully regarding Galloway, and then, very abruptly, about your friend Del Real. The third time he had mentioned Del Real's name in this connection and to the third man. Now, but slightly different in degree only, he saw the same look in Galloway's eyes which he had brought into cutters in Kimball's. Del Real, repeated Galloway frowningly, makes you say that. I'll collect your five hundred later, was Norton's laughing response, swerving out a little as he passed, he wrote on. End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 of The Bells of San Juan This Librivox recording is in the public domain. The Bells of San Juan by Jackson Gregory Chapter 17 A Stack of Gold Pieces John Engle rapidly came to assume the nature and proportions of a stubborn bulwark standing sturdily between Roderick Norton and the fires of criticism, which, bringing from little scattered flames, were now widespread blaze, amply fed with the dry fuel of many fields. Again, there had been a general excitement over a crime committed, much talk, various suspicions, and, in the end, no arrest made. Men who had stood by the sheriff until now began to lose faith in him, they recalled how, after the fight in the Pocasa Blanca, he had let Galloway go and, with him, Antone and the kid, their memories trailed back to the killing of Bisby at Vloth Palmos and the evidence of the boots. They began to admit, first reluctantly, then with angry eagerness, that Norton was not the man his father had been before him, not the man they had taken him to be. All of this hurt Norton's staunch friend, John Engel, all the more that he, too, saw signs of hesitancy which he found it hard to condone. Let him alone, said many a time, give him a chance in a free hand. He knows what he's doing. From that point he began to make excuses, first to himself and then to others. People were forgetting that, only a short time ago, the sheriff had lain many days at the point of death, that his system had been overtaxed, that not yet had his superb strength come back to him. Wait until, once more, he was physically fit. It was merely an excuse, and at the outset no man knew it better than the banker himself. But, as time went by without bringing results and tongues grew sharper and more insistent everywhere, Engel grew convinced that there was a grain of truth in his trumped-up argument. He invited Norton to his home, had him to dinner, watched him keenly, and came to the conclusion that Norton was riding on his nerves, that he had not taken sufficient time to recuperate before getting his feet back into the official stirrups, that the strain of his duties was telling on him that he needed a rest and a change or would go to pieces. But Norton, the subject broached, merely shook his head. I'm all right, John, he said a little hurriedly and nervously. I am run down the heels a bit, I'll admit, but I can't stop to rest right now. One of these days I'll quit this job and go back to ranching. Until then, well, let him talk. We can't stop them very well. Suspicion of the Quigley Mine's robbery had turned at first toward Del Rio. But he had established an alibi, and so had Galloway. So had Anton and the kid. There is nothing to do but wait, Norton insisted, it won't belong now. Angle, having less than no faith in Patton's ability, went to Virginia Page. She saw Norton often. What did she think? Was he on the verge of a collapse? Was he physically fit? All of this criticism hurts him, said DeBanker thoughtfully, and no rod, and I know how he must take it, though he only shrugs. It's gall and wormwood to him. He's up against a hard proposition, as we all know. He is half-sick, I wonder if the proposition isn't going to be too much for him. Can't you advise him persuading to knock off for a couple of weeks and clear out? Get into a city somewhere and forget his work. Why, it's the most pitiful thing in the world to see a man like him lose his grip. He is not quite himself, she admitted slowly. He is more nervous, inclined to be short and irritable than he used to be. You may be right, or it may be simply that his continued failure to stop these crimes is wearing him down. I'll be glad to watch him, to talk with him if he will listen to me. But first she forced herself to what seemed a casual chat with Patton, finding him loitering upon the hotel veranda. She suggested to him that Norton was beginning to show the strain. They looked haggard under it, and wondered if he had quite recovered from his recent illness. Patton, after his pompous way, leaned back in his chair, his thumb and his arm holes, his manner that of a most high judge. He's as well as I am, he announced positively, then to be sure, just from being laid up those ten days, and from a lot of hard writing and worry. That's all. Out of Patton's vest pocket peeped a lead pencil. Curiously enough, carried her mind back to Patton's incompetence, for it suggested the fountain pen which of old occupied the pencil's place, and which the sheriff had taken in his haste to secrete a bill of paper, with Patton scrawl upon it. She wondered again just what had been on that paper, and if it were meant to help Norton prove that Patton had no right to the M.D. after his name. The incident, all but forgotten, remained prominently in her mind, soon to assume a position of transcendent importance. And then, one after the other, here and there, throughout the county, came fresh crimes which not only set men talking angrily, but which drew the eyes of the state, and then the neighboring states, on this corner of the world. Newspapers and the cities commented variously, most of them sweepingly condemning the county sheriff, for a figurehead and a boy who should never have been given a man's place in the sun. New faces were seen in San Juan, in Los Australis, Los Palmos, Pozo, everywhere. Men said that the undesirable citizens of the whole south-west were flocking here, where they might reap with others of their ilk and ghost-got-free. Naturally, the Casablanca became the headquarters for a large percentage of the newcomers. The condition in and about San Juan, commented one of the most reputable and generally conservative of the attacking dailies, has become acute, unprecedented for this time in our development. The community has become the asylum of the Ladas. The authorities have shown themselves utterly unable to cope with the situation. A well-known figure of the desert town, who long ago should have gone to the gallows as daily, growing bolder, attaching to himself the wildest of the insurging element, and is commonly looked upon as a crime dictator. Unless there comes a stiffening in the moral fiber of the local officers, we dread to consider the logical outcome of these conditions. And so forth, from countless quarters, Galloway openly jeered at Norton. New faces looking out from the Casablanca grin widely as the sheriff, now and then road-passed. Angle and Straub and Tom Cutter, anxious and beginning to be afraid of what lurked in the future, met at the hotel and sought to hit up on a solution of the problem.  He is after Galloway, and he begins to look as though he were forgetting that his job is to serve the county first and his own private quarrels next. Odd jawed him up and down. Only makes him shake his head, like a horse, flies after him. The three, hoping that their combined arguments might have weight with Norton, went to him, and did not leave him until they had made clear what their thoughts were, what the whole state was saying of him, and as Straub had predicted, he shook his head. These latter robberies haven't been Galloway's work, he told them positively. They are pulled off by the same man who stuck up Kimball of the Quigley Mines. Inside of a week, I'll get something done. I'll promise you that. But let me do it my way. Angle alone of the three drew a certain satisfaction from the interview. He has promised something definite, he told them. Did you ever know him to do that and fail to keep his word? Maybe we're getting a little excited, boys. The latest crime had been a robbery of the little bank at Packard Springs. The highwayman had gone in the night to the room of the cashier, forced him to dress, go to the bank, and open his safe. The result was a theft of a couple of thousand dollars, no trace left behind, and a growing feeling of insecurity throughout the county. It was for this crime that Norton meant and promised to make an arrest. Exactly seven days from the day he was promised, Norton rode into San Juan and asked for Tom Cutter. Draw of meeting him at the hotel door and looked at him sharply. Made you arrest yet, Norton? He demanded. Norton smiled. No, haven't, he admitted coolly. But I've got a few minutes before my week's up, haven't I? Fix me up with something to eat, and I'll have a talk with you and Tom while I attend to the inner man. But over his meal while Cutter and Strav watched him impatiently, did a little talking other than to ask carelessly where Del Rio was. Damn it, man, cried Strav irritably. You've hinted at him before now.  He's in his room. Norton swung about upon Strav. His eyes suddenly filled with fire. Look here, Strav, he retorted. I've had about a belly full of badgering. I'm running my job, and it will be just as well for you to keep your hands off. As for why I don't make a rest? Come on, Tom. You too, Julius. His smile coming back. I'm going to get Del Rio. I don't believe, began Strav, seeing as believing. Returned Norton lightly. Come on. Followed by the two men, Norton went direct to Del Rio's room at the front of the house just across the hall from Virginia's office. At Del Rio's quick entree, he threw open the door and went in. Del Rio, seated, smoking a cigar, looked up with curious eyes, which did not miss the two men following the sheriff. You are under arrest for bank robbery at Packard Springs, said Norton crisply. Queso, usted de color? Demanded the Mexican, to whom the English words were meaningless. Norton threw back his vest, showing his star, and while he kept his eye upon Del Rio, he said quietly to Cutter, look through his trunk and bags. Del Rio, understanding quickly enough, sat smoking swiftly, his eyes narrowing as they clunk steadily to Norton's. Cutter, a rising hope in his breast that at last his superior had made good, went to the trunk in the corner. Del Rio shrugged and remained silent. Cutter began tumbling out upon the floor in assortment of clothing, evincing little respect for the Mexicans' finery.  Caught with the goods on by God, he cried, look here, Strav! He had whipped out a can to his bag, which gave forth a chink of gold. Another came after it. And across each bag was stamped Packard Spring Bank. Del Rio's eyes had wandered a moment to Cutter and the evidence.  One did not need to understand to Southern language to grasp the meaning of the words muttered under his breath. Within the half hour, Strav, Cutter and Engel had apologized to Norton. After this, they promised him to keep their hands off and their mouths shut. That evening, Virginia and Norton sat long together on Strav's veranda. There was more silent than talk between them. Norton seemed abstracted. The girl was plainly constrained, anxious, and found it difficult to keep her mind upon the thin thread of conversation joining their occasional remarks. Abruptly, out of one of their wordless intervals, she said quickly, Congratulate me on being a rich woman. I got a check from an old almost forgotten patient to-day. A hundred dollars. All in one lump. It's a fortune in San Juan, isn't it? Norton laughed at her. I feel like spending it in a breath, she ran on. I went right away to Mr. Engel and had him cash it so that I could see what five, twenty dollar gold pieces looked like.  Do you think I'm growing greedy for gold in my old age? You ought to see them piled up, though. Five-twenties isn't gold a pretty thing. I have a notion to gold get them and show them to you. They're right on my table. She broke off suddenly, her hand on his arm. Did you see someone out there at the corner of the house? She asked quickly. Do you think? Then she laughed again and settled back in her chair. Already thinking somebody is going to steal my gold. Five-twenties. Just to punish myself, I am going to leave them on my office table all night. Do you suppose? I'll be wondering all the time if somebody is crawling in at the window and taking them. Five minutes later she said good night to intellect him. I'll be up early in the morning, she said, laughingly, just to make sure that my gold is there. An hour later, Virginia Page, sitting fully dressed in the darkness of her bedroom, got quietly to her feet and went to the door leading to her office. With wildly beating heart she stood listening. Seeking to peer through the crack of the door, she led left to jar. She had heard the faint, expected sound of someone moving cautiously. Now she heard it again. Then the rustling of loose papers lying on her table. Then the faint, golden clink of yellow-minted discs. As she suddenly scratched a match in her hand, drawing it along the wall, she threw the door open. The tiny flame held high, retrieved the room from darkness, into sufficient pale light. The man at her table whirled upon her and exclamation caught in his throat, one hand going to his hip, the other closing tight upon what it held.  As the match fell from her fingers she went to the open window and drew down the shade. Then she led a second match, set it to her lamp, and sank weirdly into her chair. Shall we thrash matters out, Mr. Norton? she asked. CHAPTER 18 Desire outweighs discretion Following Virginia's barely audible words there was long silence.  For the first time in her life she saw him staggered by the shock of surprise, held hesitant and uncertain.  One hand rested on the butt of these revolver, the other was closed upon the stack of gold pieces. When at last he found his tongue it was to accuse her. You trapped me, he said bitterly. With golden bait she admitted her voice oddly spiritless. Yes. Well, challenge? What are you going to do about it? Do? I don't know. Again there grew silence, studying each other intently. Norton, his voice coming back to him as the unusual color receded from his face, smiled at her with an affection of his old manner. Suddenly he stepped back up to her table, noiselessly, let down the coins, eased himself into a chair. He wished to thrish things out. I am ready. And in case we should be interrupted, you know, I have called on you in your official capacity. We'll say that I am troubled by the old wound in my head. That will do as well as anything, won't it? It was you who robbed the bank at Pozo. She cried softly, leaning toward him the look in her eyes, one of dread now, and the mind superintendent at Los Palmas. And I don't know how many other people. It was you. She had startled him. In the beginning she knew she would not draw another sign of surprise from him. He had himself under control and long years of severe training made that control complete. He merely looked interested under her sweeping accusation. You must have a reason for a charge like that, he remarked evenly. Do you deny it? I deny nothing. I affirm nothing right now. I say that you must have a reason for what you state. You put in incriminating evidence in Del Rio's trunk. She went on hurriedly. The canvas bags gold, didn't you? Reason, he insisted equably. You took Calvin Patton's fountain pen. I saw you. He lifted his brows at her. Then he laughed softly. In the first place, he replied thoughtfully, I really believe that he is not Calibut all but Charles Patton. We'll talk of that later, however. In the second place, isn't it rather humorous to wind up by accusing a man with the theft of a fountain pen after your other charges? Answer one question. She uriturnously, please. It is only a small matter. Give me your word of honor that she will answer it truthfully. He was very grave as he sat for a moment head down, purling his big hat in slow fingers. Then he smiled again as he looked up. Either truthfully or not at all, he promised her. My word of honor. She was plainly excited as she said him her question. Singlette once eager and afraid to have his response. I saw you take Patton's fountain pen and a scrap of note paper from the table by your bed when you were hurt. The first time I called to see how you were doing. I thought that perhaps there was something of importance written on the paper that, if nothing else, you wanted a bit of Patton's hand-rising hues in your proof that he was not the man he pretended to be. You slipped both pen and paper under your pillow. Tell me just this. Was that paper of any importance whatever of any interest even to you? No, you said steadily without hesitation it was not. I did not so much as look at it.  And while he marveled at it, he saw that now her look was one of pure pity. Just what has that got to do with the robberies you mentioned? Everything. She burst out. Everything. Can't you see, oh my God! She dropped her face into her hands and he saw her shoulders lift and slump. Glancing aside swiftly he saw the five golden discs on the table almost to be reached from where he sat. No doubt, he said hastily as her head was lifted again, you think that you would like to send me to jail? Jail no a thousand times, no, but you must, you must let me send you to a hospital. He frowned at her while he gave over twisting his hat and grew very still. You think I'm crazy? Yeah, sharply? That it? No, you're as sane as I am, but I don't think that at all, but, well, can't you understand? No, I can't. You accuse me of this and that. You give no reasons for your wild suspicions. You end up by suggesting medical treatment. What's the answer, Virginia Page? The answer, Roderick Norton, is a very simple one, but first I'm going to ask you another question or so.  I saw you, so there is no use denying it to me, is there? Go ahead. What next? Why, you lay ill during a week or ten days, you had time to think. You remember having told me that you had time to think? About everything in the world. It was at that time, wasn't it, that you came to the decision which you mentioned to me, that a man to commit a crime and play safe at the same time must keep in mind two essential matters. First, the lone hand, second, not to kill. I thought it out, then, yes. In fact, I suppose I told you so. The crimes committed recently have been characterized by these two essentials, haven't they? Nearly all of them. He nodded, watching her keenly holding back his answers for just a second or two each time. I believe so. Did you ever have an impulse to steal before you were knocked unconscious at the Casablanca? No. And have you had that impulse almost all the time ever since? Ask me. Tell me the truth. Am I right? Am I not? Now again he laughed softly at her. Virginia Page, the medical speaks. He returned lightly. She has a theory.  With the result it becomes a thief or worse. Virginia. Theory? It is no theory. It is an established undeniable and undenied fact. It has occurred time and again. Physicians have observed, have made cures. Can't you see now Rod Norton? Won't you see?  I don't care whether Patton is a physician or not she ran on. He's a bungler.   Patton did not treat that wound. He cared for the lesser injury, like a fool and allowed the major one to take care of itself. And the result, oh dear God, think of what might have happened if any one but me had learned what I have learned tonight. He rose with her, stood still regarding her with eyes like drills. Then he shook his head. You're wrong, Virginia. Dead wrong. He told her with quiet emphasis. You have called me thief. Well, perhaps I am. You have given your explanation? Let me give you mine. He paused, shaping the matter in mind. His face was stern and very, very grave. Presently, his lowered voice guarded against any chance here as he continued. I lay on my bed a week, a long, utterly damnable week. I could do nothing but think. So I thought, as I told you of everything, most of all I thought of you, Virginia Page. Shall I tell you why? No. We'll let that go until we understand each other. I thought of myself, of my life, of my eternal striving with Jim Galloway. Some day I should get Galloway, or he would get me in either case. What good? Was not Galloway a wiser man than I? He took what he wanted. I merely wasted my time chasing after such bigger men as he. If he desired a thousand dollars or five, ten thousand, he went out for it like a man and took it. Why shouldn't he? Oh, I'll tell you, I had the time to dwell upon the little meaningless words of honesty and dishonesty, honor and dishonor, and all the prajni and forebearers. They are empty. Empty, I tell you, Virginia. When I stood on my feet again I was a free man. I knew it then. I knew it now. Free. I tell you, free. Most of all from shackles of empty ideas. What I wanted, I would take. She looked at him healthlessly, his dominant figure for the moment, seeming a thing not to be restricted or tamed. What you have done, she told him gently, is to find argument to bolster up impulse. That is generally very easy to do, isn't it? If one wants a thing, it is not hard convincing himself that it is right that he should have it. At least I have decided sanely when I wanted. There is no call for hospitals. You sustained a fracture of the skull. That fracture had improper treatment. It is a wonder you did not die the wound healed, and there remains a pressure of a bit of bone upon the brain. Until that pressure is removed by an operation you are doomed to be a criminal. A kleptomaniac, she said steadily, if not much worse. I believe that you mean what you say.  I know if there were anything physically wrong.  I have had the best of medical training, she said slowly. I have specialized in brain disorders, interested in that branch of my work until I decided to bring Elmer out here. I know what I am saying. Will you at least promise to do as I ask? Have a thorough examination by a specialist, and have the operation if he advises it? But an operation is a serious manner. Yes, it must be, but think. Man might die under the hands of the surgeon. Yes, there is always a danger. There is always a chance of death resulting from any but the most minor of operations. But you are not the man to be afraid, Rod Norton. I know that. You say that you have specialized in this sort of thing. He was probing for her thoughts with keen, narrowed eyes. Would you be willing to perform that operation for me? She shrank back suddenly, her hand dropping from his arm. No, she cried. No, no. You smile triumphantly. Then we'll let it go for a while, if you wouldn't care to do it.  I'm quite content with things that they are. I see the way to gain the ends I desire. I am gaining them. If there is brain pressure, well, I'm quite ready to thank God and Maraga for it. Which you may take as absolutely final, Dr. Page. She was beaten then, and she knew it. She went back to her chair in a sort of bewildered despair, her hands dropping idly to her lap. It would be just as well, he said presently. If I left before anyone came in before I go, do you mind telling me what you mean to do? Shall you denounce me? Are you going to spread your suspicions abroad? What do you leave me to do? Have I the right to sit still and say nothing? You would go on as you have begun. You would commit fresh crimes, in spite of your two essentials. You would be led to kill a man sooner or later, or you yourself would be killed. Have I the right to allow all of that to continue? Then you have decided to accuse me. It is so hard to decide anything. You make it so hard. Can't you see that you do? But after all, my part is clear. If you will consent to an examination and an operation, I will say nothing of what has happened. If you won't do that, you will drive me to tell what I know. Are our trails divide tonight, then? I had hoped for better than that, Virginia.  I, too, had hoped for better than that. She confessed, finding this no time for faltering. I should continue to hope if you would just do your part. He came a swift step toward her. Then he stopped suddenly, his hands falling to his side. But the light in his eyes did not diminish. To announce me to-morrow, if you wish, he said slowly and differently, it seemed to her, accept my promise that I will attempt no theft of more gold tonight. Give me this one last chance to talk with you, before someone comes. Come out with me. You are not afraid of me? You admit that I am sane. Then let us ride together, and let me talk with you freely. Will you, Virginia? Will you do that one favor for me? The high desire was upon her to accede to his request. Her calmer judgment forbade it. But tonight was tonight. Tomorrow would be tomorrow.  But even that hope was less than her desire, when she answered him. Have my horse saddled, she said. I'll let Strav think I have to make a call and let Las Estralas. I'll be out in five minutes. He thanked her with his eyes, opened the hall door, and went out. Virginia, having changed swiftly to her riding-togs, took up her little black emergency kit, which would lend an air of business urgency to her nocturnal ride with Norton. She stepped out into the hall. There's a call for you. From Las Estralas, said Strav, appearing from the front, whence his voice had come to her mingled with the excited tones of a Mexican. Tony Garcia has been hurt pretty badly, I expect. His brother says that Tony got his hand caught in some kind of machinery he was fooling with late this afternoon and crushed so that it's all but fallen off. And the light cast by the hotel porch lamp, Norton leading Paris', rode around the corner of the building. I was just going out, said Virginia, but I'll go on this case first. Mr. Norton is riding with me. Please ask him to wait while I get my other bag. In her room again the lamp lighted on her table. She stood a moment frowning, thoughtfully, into vacancy. Then, with a quick shake of the head, she snatched up the two other bags, which might be needed in treating Tony's hurt, and again hastened out. Norton, bending from his saddle, took them from her. As Draubry languished into her gauntlet at hand, the reins of Prisces' bridle, she swung lightly up to the mare's back. Poor fellow must be suffering all kinds of tortures, she said, as Norton reigned in with her. Let's hurry. He offered no answer as they clattered out of San Juan and turned out across the level lands towards Las Estralas. So, as upon another night, when speeding upon a similar errand, they rode for a long time in silence. Again, they too alone were pushing out into the dark and the vast silence. That was broken only by the soft thudding of their own horses' hooves and the creak of saddle-leather and jingle of spur and bit chains. You wanted to talk with me, suggested the girl, after fifteen minutes of wordless restraint between them. Yes, he answered, but not now, that is. If you will give me a further chance after you have done what you can for poor old Tony. You will hardly need to stay in Las Estralas all night, I imagine. When we leave, you can listen to me. Do you mind? No, she said slowly. I don't mind. I'd rather it was then. You and I have a good bit to think about before we do any talking, haven't we? They fell silent again, the soft beauty of the night over the southern desert lands. And there is no other earthly beauty like it. Touch the girl's soul now as it had never done before, perhaps? Similarly, it disturbed shadows in the man's. She was distressed by the position in which she found herself, and the night's infinite quiet enough for peace was grateful to her. As she left the hotel her thoughts were in chaos. She was caught in a fearsome labyrinth whence there appeared no escape. Now, though no way out suggested itself, still the stars were shining. At last the twinkling lights of Las Estralas, seeming at first fallen stars caught in the mesquite branches, swam into view. Plainly Tony's accident had stimulated much local interest. Among the few straggling houses men came and went, while a lot of women, children, and countless mongrel dogs had congregated just outside of the hut, where the injured man lay. A brush fire in the street crackled right merrily. It sparks dancing skyward. "'You promise me,' said Norton, as they drew their horses down to a trot, not to say anything until we can have had time to talk.' "'I promise,' she said wearily. She entered the sufferer's room first, Norton delaying to tie the horses and lift down the instrument cases from the saddle-strings. She stopped abruptly. Just beyond the threshold the smell of chloroform was heavy upon the air. Tony lay white-faced upon a table. Calypatin with coat off and sleeves rolled up was bending over him. "'Oh, senorita!' cried a woman, hurrying forward, her hands twisting nervously in her apron. And a torrential outpouring of Spanish greeted the mystified Virginia. "'I thought that I was wanted here,' she said, looking about her at the four or five grave faces. Tony's brother came for me. One of the men shambled forward to explain. "'Tony, won't you?' he said quickly. Tony very bad hurt. Dr. Patten came and lasted a stroll as by accident. He say'd got to cut off arm. Can't wait too long or Tony die. He's just beginning now.' The woman who had appeared was Tony's wife and the mother of two of the ragged children out by the fire. Joined her voice eagerly to the mans, he translated. "'Iloysia, say she'd thank God you come. Tony want you, she want you. Patten charge one hundred dollar and,' he shrugged eloquently, she say, you do for Tony, you do better than Patten.' Virginia's eyes flashed upon Patten. He came a step toward her, his attitude half belligerent. "'The man has to be operated on immediately,' he said sharply. He was hurt in the afternoon, out on the end of the ranch, has been all day getting in, fainted half a dozen times, I guess. The arm has to come off at the elbow.' "'Thank you, return, Virginia, quietly going to the table. I'll take the case now, Dr. Patten.' "'You,' Patten laughed, his eyes jeering, "'you operate. You think that they want you to cut a skein of silk with a pair of scissors?   This is Dr. Page's case. Glare out.' "'Thank you, Mr. Norton,' said Virginia quickly. She was already making an examination of the blood-covered arm in hand, and did not look around. And please clear the room, will you? Let Tony's wife stay. That is all, Eloisa.' The woman came forward, her eyes wide and frightened. Virginia smiled at her reassuringly. "'No, muy malo,' she said in the few Spanish words which she could summon for the occasion from those she had picked up from the desert people. Muy bueno, mañana. And now get me some warm water. Aqua caliente. Mr. Norton, if you will open my instrument case, know the other one. And then stand by to help with the anesthetic, if Patten has not already given him enough to keep him asleep all night.' She gave her directions concisely, and was obeyed. Norton put the last of the undesired onlookers out of the door, closed it after them, found another lamp and some candles. Did all that he could think of to help and all that was asked of him. Eloisa, having brought the water, withdrew to a corner and kept her fascinated eyes upon Virginia's space, and stubbornly away from her husband's. Virginia, when she had completed a very thorough examination, turned toward Norton, her eyes blazing. Patten has no more right to an MD after his name than you have, she cried angrily. Not so much, for he hasn't even any brains. Cut the man's arm off, why there is only a simple fracture above the wrist, which will cause a bit of trouble. The hand is another matter, but even it isn't half as badly mangled as it looks. The second and third fingers are terribly crushed. They've got to come off. We might as well do it now, while he is already under the chloroform. Tell Eloisa just how matters stand and then send her out. Eloisa already prepared for the greater operation, grasped her gratitude for the lesser and allowed herself to be gently thrust from the room. Then Norton came back to the table, his eyes wonderingly upon Virginia. He knew that she was capable. He had read that fact the first day when he had seen her hands, but it struck him as rather unusual that a girl, any girl, no matter what her training, could take hold as she was doing. And she selected her instruments, laid them out, a bit of sterilized gauze upon a chair, cleansed her hands, and prepared to operate. He began to feel a sense of utter confidence in her. Rapidly his own anger rose at the thought of the crime Patton would have perpetrated. Tony Garcia, when in due time his consciousness came back to him, bringing the attended dizzy nausea in its wake, looked down at his side curiously, wondering how it would be to go without an arm. And when Eloisa told him, We are going to sell our cow and goats tomorrow, found Tony faintly, and give her all the money. See, see, Tony, wept the wife. Whereupon the small children who were teaching the goats to pull a wagon, set up a wail of grief and rebellion. It struck both Virginia and Norton as a shade odd that Patton should be still in Los Astralis when they rode out of it long after midnight. They saw him standing in the doorway of one of the still-lighted buildings of the village, as they galloped past. It was the three-star saloon. Patton's horse was tied in front of it. Since Patton neither drank nor plated dice or cards, here might have been matter to ponder on. But in neither mind was there a place now for any interest other than that which, again, held them silent and constrained. Los Astralis lost behind them. They drew their horses down into a rocking trot, then a slow walk.  He would have given much to have seen her eyes when a little later he began to talk, and she was conscious of a kindred wish. Look beyond her, she said. The late moon is coming up, there will be a little more light then, and I want to look at you, Rod Norton, while we thresh it out. The thin, curved sliver of silver, thrusting up over the edge of the world in the east, ghostly in pale, added little to the throbbing gleam of the stars. But the waiting for it had put Los Astralis a mile behind them, had set them alone together, out in the heart of the silences, had given them that last excuse to be had to set back an evil moment. Virginia, with a sigh, brought her eyes down from the glitter of the wide heavens, and sought Norton's. I'm afraid, she said listlessly, that there is no way out for us, Rod Norton. There is a way, he began quickly. There is no way unless you do what I say, if you would only give me your word to take the stage tomorrow, to go to a competent surgeon to submit to the operation, if you would only give me your word. I give you my word, he said sharply, that that is just the thing which I will never do. Virginia, breathe deep, fill your lungs with the wonder of the night, realize what it means to live, think what it means to die. You say that I am not afraid of death, well, maybe not if it comes in a guise I have grown up to be familiar with, but to lie, as I saw Tony Garcia lying, just now powerless, unconscious, without will or knowledge, of what it was coming to me, and let a man cut into me, I'd rather die, I think standing upon my two feet, and fighting it out with a gun. You would have to go on and tell me that chances would be highly in favour of my recovery, and yet, you would admit that the danger would be grave. And you are afraid, after all. That is it, that holds you back. She found it hard to believe that he was telling her his true emotion. I am merely measuring the chances, he said steadily. I am satisfied with life as I find it, I do not believe that there is anything wrong with me, I see at least the possibility of death and nothing to be gained by submitting to an operation. Then, she said again weirly, there is no way out. But there is, my way, not the one you have thought of, you have stumbled upon a thing which you must forget, that is all. Give me the free swing to finish, Jim Galloway, to complete certain other undertakings, promise me, that you will do this in return, I will promise you not to, and here he hesitated. Not to commit another theft? She set the matter squarely before him. Can you promise that, Rod Norton? Can you keep the promise where it once made? Yes. No, you could not. You don't understand, or you won't understand. You would obey the impulse which would come, just as certainly as the sun will rise and set again, so I can neither accept your promise, nor give you mine. You will tell what you have guessed. Brother, what I know even if you were my own brother! Or your lover? He demanded a challenge in his voice? Or my lover, for his sake if not for the sake of others? For a little while he made no answer. Again there was absolute silence between them, a troubled silence filled with pain. Then suddenly he leaned close to her, threw out his hand for her Paris's reign, jerked both horses back to a fretful standstill. Can't you see what you forced me to do? He demanded half angrily. Do you picture what your denunciation would do for me? Do you think that I can let you make it? His face was so near hers that she could see it clearly in the paddle of light. You could see hers and that it was lifted fearlessly. How will you stop me? she asked quietly. I will finish Jim Galloway out of hand, he told her savagely. It will no longer be the representative of the law. Against the lawbreaker. It will just be Norton and Galloway, both men. I will accomplish the one other matter I have planned. Both will require not over three or four days. During that time I tell you, Virginia, I have grown into a free man, a man who does what he wants to do, who takes what he wants to take, who is not bound by flimsy shackles of other men's codes. During those three or four days, I shall see that you do no talking. Once more her voice quickened, she asked. How will you stop me? We've come to a deadlock. Argument does no good. Either I must yield to you or you to me. There is too much at stake to allow of a man being squeamish. I don't care much for the job, but by a high heaven, I am of no mind to watch life run by through the bars of a penitentiary. After all, action becomes simplified when a crisis comes, doesn't it? There is just one answer. Just one way out. You will come with me now. I will put you where you will have no opportunity to do any talking for the few days in which I shall finish. What I have to do. His hand on Paris's rain, the two horses still closer together. Give me your promise, Virginia, or come with me. Her quick spurt of anger rose, flared and dwindled away like a little flame extinguished by a splash of rain. The tears were stinging her eyes almost before the last word, for she felt that there was no Roderick Norton speaking, but rather a bit of bone pressing against the delicate machinery, which is a man's brain. Where will you take me? she asked faintly. To the King's Palace, he answered bitterly. Where we had one perfect happy day, Virginia, where, I had hoped, we would have other perfect days. Oh, girl, can't you see? His voice went trilling through the air. Can't you see what I have hoped? What I have dreamed? You might still hope, she told him steadily. You might still dream. Well, his eyes shone at her, his erect form outlined against the black of the earth, and the gleam of the stars was eloquent of mastery. There will come a time when you will see life as I see it. And now, for the last time, will you give me your promise, Virginia? It is forced upon you. You will be blameless in giving it. Will you do so?  And then, in a sort of daze, she knew that they had turned off to the left, that no longer was San Juan ahead of them, that they were riding toward the gloomy bulwark of the mountains.