to be gazing far beyond the Spaniard and the renegade into some greater
future.

Francisco Alvarez, brave man though he was, felt awe. He rose impatiently,
kicked a coal deeper into the fire, looked once more at Paul, who was yet
silent, and spoke sharply to the sentinels. Then he returned to his place,
and said to Paul:

"We offer you the hospitality of the forest and an extra blanket if you
wish it."

"It's a hospitality to which I'm used," replied Paul, "and I don't need
the extra blanket, although I thank you for the offer."

He took his own blanket from the little roll at his back, wrapped himself
in it, pillowed his head on the knoll, and closed his eyes. Francisco
Alvarez looked at him for some minutes, and could not tell whether he was
sleeping or waking, but he thought that he slept. His long, regular
breathing and the expression of his face, as peaceful as that of a little
child, indicated It.

The night grew chillier. The great stars remained pale and cold, and the
forest continued to whine, as that strange, wandering breeze slipped
through the leaves. Francisco Alvarez of the sunny plains wished that it
would stop. It got upon his nerves, and the feeling it gave him was
singularly like that of an evil conscience. He saw his men fall to sleep
one by one, and he heard their heavy breathing. Braxton Wyatt also wrapped
himself in his blanket and soon slumbered. The fire sank, the coals
crumbled, and with soft little hisses, fell together. The circling rim of
darkness crept up closer and closer, and the trunks of the trees became