He accordingly dismounted, and after lighting a fresh cigar, stretched himself at full length upon the gra.s.s which grew on the river's bank, allowing his horse to graze at will. Just behind him rose the abrupt wall of the canon some thirty or forty feet in height which, at this hour of the morning, cast a deep shadow over the spot where he lay and halfway across the river in front of him. It was just the sort of place for an Indian or one of d.i.c.k's nature to linger in and dream and muse.

The tips of the tall gra.s.s and reeds which grew close to the water's edge, swayed gently in the fresh morning breeze. The song of the finch and linnet issued from the thick, low willow copse growing along the river's banks.

How peaceful it was, and how sweetly the waters sang! No wonder the Indian prized the peace and beauty of nature above all else. What was his _hacienda_ to this? He was never really happy when the roof of a house intervened between himself and the sky.

Suddenly his attention was attracted by a noise overhead, and glancing upward, he sprang to his feet just in time to avoid a ma.s.s of earth and stones that came rolling down over the face of the cliff and fell on the very spot where he had been lying. The next instant, before he had time to realize what was happening, a soft, fluffy ma.s.s dropped into his arms with an impact that nearly brought him to his knees. For some seconds d.i.c.k looked hard at the object in his arms in order to a.s.sure himself that he really was awake and not still dreaming in the gra.s.s by the side of the river.

There was no doubt about it; the woman had arrived.

Miss Van Ashton lay quite still in his arms; she had fainted. For the first time in his life, a panic seized him.

"Miss Van Ashton!" he cried excitedly, bending over her. She seemed like nothing, as light as a feather as she lay so still and pale in his strong arms. It seemed as though he could have held her thus forever, and he was almost beginning to wish that he might as he watched the pallor of her face slowly give way to its natural pink and white glow, delicate as the lining of a conch-sh.e.l.l. Strange that he had not noted this peculiarly piquant and attractive face before.

"Miss Van Ashton!" he cried once more. But again there was no response.

He lowered her gently on one knee in order that she might breathe more freely. As he did so, one of her hands came into sudden contact with his own. Instinctively his hand closed over it and held it captive; it was so soft and warm, just like a little bird. His soul was sorely tempted, and sad to relate, he raised it to his lips and held it there, at which juncture Bessie Van Ashton slowly opened her eyes.

With a cry, she was on her feet--flushed and furious.

"Don't be alarmed, Miss Van Ashton!" he exclaimed, quite unconscious of the cause of her sudden fright. "You're not hurt a bit; you didn't touch the ground. You only fainted."

"How dare you hold me in your arms?" she cried.

"I couldn't help it, Miss Van Ashton; you dropped right into them."

"How dare you kiss me, sir?"

"I couldn't help that either," stammered d.i.c.k, covered with confusion and blushing like a school-boy.

"Insolence!" cried Bessie with increased vehemence, stamping her small foot furiously on the ground.

"Miss Van Ashton," stammered d.i.c.k again, "I apologize! I--I beg your pardon--"

"For taking advantage of a helpless woman while in an unconscious state!" she interrupted. "A most gentlemanly act!" she added contemptuously. Her words cut him like the lash of a whip, causing him to wince, his face turning a deep red.

"I'm sorry--" he began.

"You know you're not sorry at all!" she broke in again with unabated fury.

"Miss Van Ashton," he said again, with increasing embarra.s.sment, "when you fell into my arms I was so surprised and frightened--"

"Frightened?" She laughed in his face. "A man who single handed held a furious crowd of men at bay as you did--frightened? You mean that you were so overcome with weakness and the joy at finding a helpless woman in your power you could think of nothing better to do than to kiss her,"

she answered with all the sarcasm she could command.

A twinkle came into d.i.c.k's dark eyes as he regarded her for some time in silence.

"Miss Van Ashton," he said, "if you only knew it, you are far more dangerous than a tame mob of boys."

"Pshaw!" she exclaimed, turning her back upon him, and tapping the ground nervously with her daintily shod foot. d.i.c.k regarded her narrowly during the pause that ensued. She seemed taller than he at first had thought her, and was as slender as a birch. The sun, which by this time had begun to peep over the top of the canon wall, cast a golden aureole about her head. Again he heard the waters sing and the notes of the birds issuing from the willow copse.

"Well! how much longer are you going to stand there? Why don't you say something?" she snapped, still keeping her back turned toward him. Her words inspired him with fresh confidence. He recognized in them a faint glimmer of interest which even her fierce spirit of resentment had not entirely succeeded in overcoming.

"Miss Van Ashton, ignore me, trample me in the dust if you like, but do you know, if it had been any other woman than yourself, I should have laid her quietly down upon the ground and left her to regain consciousness as best she could!" She wheeled around abruptly, looking him straight in the eyes. There was no mistaking the sincerity of his words, or the look that accompanied them. And she instinctively felt that an impulsive, pa.s.sionate nature like his could not have helped doing what he did.

"I don't believe a word you say," she said, softening somewhat, a faint smile lurking about the corners of her mouth. Then, as the ludicrousness of the situation came over her, she burst into fit after fit of laughter until the tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Oh, dear!" she sighed at length.

"You do forgive me!" he pleaded, picking up her dainty straw hat which lay on the ground close by and handing it to her.

"No, I don't forgive you. I don't think I ever shall," she answered in the severest tone she could command. "It was foolish of me to wander away from the others," she continued. "I might have known that something would happen, because something is always happening in this country.

It's perfectly marvelous!" Then, after a pause, during which she placed her hat rakishly on one side of her head, she added: "As a punishment, Mr. Yankton, I'll allow you to accompany me back to the _Posada_." Her words caused his heart to jump.

"I don't deserve it," he answered, a.s.suming an air and tone of humility.

"I'm glad you realize that," she returned. "I suppose I'm indebted to you for saving my life," she went on. "And I don't want you to think me ungrateful. Perhaps it would have been better though--" She broke off abruptly, and then laughed a strange little laugh that puzzled him greatly. She had at least grown communicative again, and he heaved a sigh of relief. He had gotten off so much easier than he expected.

"One moment, Miss Van Ashton," he said, as she was about to take the lead. He turned and gave a shrill whistle. His horse which had been feeding quietly the while on the gra.s.s a short distance from them, raised his head at the sound, and giving a low whinny, came trotting up to them.

"Won't you ride?" he asked, turning to her. "He's quite gentle."

"No," she answered rather curtly, "I prefer to walk."

"Just as you say," he answered in a tone of complete submission, taking his place quietly by her side.

"No--not that way!" she said. "We'll keep the horse's head between us."

XVI

There had been no more shooting or attempts at murder. The mail began to arrive from home, and Colonel Van Ashton and Mrs. Forest began to breathe easier.

Life at the old _Posada_ had settled down once more to its accustomed calm and routine. The sun shone benignly and the birds sang daily in the garden where the guests were wont to pa.s.s the greater part of the day.

The gay little songsters were a veritable revelation to them--especially to the Colonel. How could such gentle creatures go on singing with such indifference to the future in a land where life was held so cheap and all things so uncertain?

Blanch had turned a deaf ear to the others' entreaties to return home at once. The more they talked, the firmer she became, and finally, taking matters into her own hands, settled the question by telegraphing home for the twenty trunks of clothes she left there on her departure.

"Can't you see," she said by way of explanation, "how disastrous it would be to leave Jack alone in this country with that--"

"Don't mention her!" interrupted Mrs. Forest.

"I don't see how we can help it," replied Blanch, "since fate has thrust her unbidden into our lives. We might as well recognize facts first as last since we are no longer in a position to choose either our surroundings or the persons with whom we are to a.s.sociate. There is only one way to avert the catastrophe threatening us, and that is--by my marrying Jack."

Chiquita's beauty filled Mrs. Forest with a vague and nameless terror.

But a glimpse of that dark siren was enough to apprise her of her son's peril, and she unhesitatingly implored Blanch not to let him out of her sight--to go off with him alone as often as possible and flirt with him to any length; a tremendous concession on Mrs. Forest's part--nothing less than a complete surrender, she being one of those proud but insipid mortals whose temperature could be easily gauged by the inclination of her long, slender, slightly upturned nose which seemed to be forever pointing toward a better world. For her, it was not enough that one's appearance and innate refinement marked one as a lady or a gentleman, but it must be proven by a long deduction beginning with some obscure ancestor of whom the world has never heard and whose shortcomings have been happily buried in the oblivion of time. Could she have had her way, the world would have been long since wrapped in pink tissue paper, tied with blue ribbon and labeled safe. How she ever came by her dauntless son remains a mystery; it certainly was no fault of hers.

Somebody of a pessimistic turn of mind once remarked that, if the human race were suddenly stripped naked, it would be impossible to distinguish the refined from the vulgar. A truly inspired utterance. For as Captain Forest viewed his family from his plane of vantage, especially after the leveling process had set in, they strangely reminded him of a flock of tame geese rioting in a pond. They made a great noise and stir, but convinced n.o.body.