"These are troublesome days. War is only a temporary evil, but it makes
for hate, and hate kills as it dies. Love lives and gives life." A smile
lighted his eyes, though his lips were firm. "I wish you well. Among
friends or enemies the one haven of safety always is the holy
sanctuary."

Uncle Esmond bowed his head reverently.

"You will find it beside the trail near the river. The walls are very
old and strong, but not so old as hate, nor so strong as love. A little
street runs from it, crooked--six houses away. Peace be to all of you."
He broke off suddenly and his last sentence was spoken in a clear,
strong tone unlike the gentler voice.

"I thank you, Father!" Jondo said, as the priest passed his wagon.

The holy man gave him one swift, searching glance. Then lifting his
right hand as if in blessing, and slowly dropping it until the
forefinger pointed toward the west, he passed on his way.

Jondo's brown cheek flushed and the lines about his mouth grew hard.

"Take my place, Bev," he said, as he left his wagon and joined Esmond
Clarenden.

The two spoke earnestly together. Then Jondo mounted Beverly's pony.

"If you need me--" I heard him say, and he turned away and rode in the
direction the priest had taken.