flickering candles about the altar. Father Josef came slowly down the
aisle to meet him, while a tall man, crouching like a beast about to
spring, rather than a penitent at prayer, shrank down in the shadowy
corner inside the doorway.

The merchant, solid and square-built and fearless, stood before the
young priest baring his head as he spoke.

"I come on a grave errand, good Father. This afternoon my two nephews
and a young man from New England came in here and saw a child asleep
under protection of this holy sanctuary. That child's name is Eloise St.
Vrain. I had hoped to find her mother able to care for her. She--cannot
do it, as you know. I must do it for her now. I come here to claim what
it is my duty to protect."

At these words the crouching figure sprang up and Ferdinand Ramero, his
steel-blue eyes blazing, came forward with cat-like softness. But the
sturdy little man before the priest stood, hat in hand, undisturbed by
any presence there.

"Father Josef," the tall man began, in a voice of menace, "you will not
protect this American here. I have confessed to you and you know that
this man is my enemy. He comes, a traitor to his own country and a spy
to ours. He has risked the lives of three children by bringing them
across the plains. He comes alone where large wagon-trains dare not
venture. He could not go back to the States now. And lastly, good
Father, he has no right to the child that he claims is here."

"To the child that is here, asleep beside our sacred altar," Father
Josef said, sternly.