Beth Norvell

Brown bent ever lower as he listened, his great body shaking in the

effort to repress his sobs, his lips pressing against her white cheek.

"I kiss you now, señor," she whispered, faintly. "Just de once, like I

vas your vife."

Their lips met, the very soul of each seemingly in the soft, clinging

contact. Suddenly the poor girl sank backward, her head falling

heavily upon his supporting arm, a peculiar shudder twitching her

slender form.

"Mercedes!" he cried in alarm.

"Si, señor," the black eyes still wide open, but her words scarcely

audible. "Eet is so hard to see you; maybe de stars hide behin' de

cloud, but, but I lofe--"

"Yes, y-yes, I kn-know."

She lifted her arms, then dropped them heavily upon his bowed shoulders.

"Dar is such a brightness come, señor. Eet light everyting like eet

vas de day. Maybe I be good too, now dat a good man lofe me; maybe de

God forgif all de bad because I lofe. You tink so? Oh, eet--eet joys

me so--señor! señor!"

Motionless, almost breathless, but for the sobs shaking his great

figure, he held her tightly, bending low, her white cheek against his

own, her head pillowed upon his arm. About them was the silence, the

solemn night shadows, amid which waited Hicks and Winston earnestly

watching. Finally, the latter spoke gently, striving to arouse the

man; but Stutter Brown never lifted his head, never removed his eyes

from the death-white face upheld by his arm. As though stricken to

stone he remained motionless, seemingly lifeless, his face as pallid as

the dead he guarded. Hicks bent over and placed one hand upon his

shoulder.

"Stutter, ol' pard," he said, pleadingly. "I know it's mighty hard,

but don't take on so; don't act that way. It can't do her no manner o'

good now. It's all--all over with, an' you ain't helpin' her none

a-settin' thar that way."

The smitten man drew a deep breath, glancing up into the kindly, seamed

face bending over him, and about at the surrounding darkness. He

acted like one suddenly aroused from sleep, unable to comprehend his

situation. Slowly, with all the tenderness of love, he crumpled his

old hat into the semblance of a pillow, placed it upon the rock, and

lowered the girl's head until it rested softly upon it. Gently he

passed his great hand in caress across the ruffled black hair, pressing

it back from her forehead. He arose to his knees, to his feet, swaying

slightly, one hand pressed against his head as he stared blankly into

the faces of the two men.

"W-which way d-did he go?" he asked, almost stupidly. "Th-the feller

w-who told 'em ter f-f-fire?"

Old Hicks, his eyes filled with misery, shook his head.

"Back ter the 'Independence,' I reckon," he admitted. "Most o' 'em I

saw started that way."