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Gregory, Jackson, 1882-1943

"The Bells of San Juan"


They saw him standing in the doorway of the one still lighted building
of the village as they galloped past. It was the Three Star saloon.
Patten's horse was tied in front of it. Since Patten neither drank nor
played at dice or cards here might have been matter to ponder on. But
in neither mind was there place now for any interest other than that
which again held them silent and constrained.
Las Estrellas lost behind them, they drew their horses down into a
rocking trot, then to a slow walk. Virginia rode with her head up, her
eyes upon the field of stars. Her face, as Norton kept close to her
side, looked very white in the starlight. 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 yonder," she said. "The late moon is coming up. There will be a
little more light then and. . . . 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 and pale, added little to the throbbing
gleam of the stars; but the waiting for it had put Las Estrellas 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.


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