And night had come again, serene
and peaceful with the glory of the moon and stars, when he rode once
more into San Juan, sore and saddle-weary.
At the hotel he learned that Virginia had gone to the Engles. He left
his jaded horse with Ignacio and walked down the street. In front of
the Casa Blanca he stopped a moment, staring musingly at the solid
adobe walls gleaming white in the moonlight. The place was quiet,
deserted. No single light winked at him through door or window. It
seemed to him to be brooding over the passing of Jim Galloway.
He found Florrie and Elmer strolling under the cottonwoods. They had
scant interest in him, little time to bestow upon a mere mortal.
Florrie could only cry ecstatically that Black Bill was a hero! He,
all alone, had terrorized the Mexican woman guarding her, had saved
her, had brought her back. And Elmer could only look pleased and
stammer and whisper to Fluff to be still.
Virginia had heard his voice, the voice she had been listening for
throughout so many long hours, and met him before he had come to the
door.
"Oh, thank God, thank God!" she cried softly. "But . . . you are hurt?"
He forgot his wound as both arms closed about her. From somewhere at
the rear of the house he heard Mrs. Engle's voice crying eagerly; "It's
Roddy!" She was hurrying to greet him.
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