"Look out, now. That sort of talk knocks me; but say, don't be away
any longer than you can help."

"I won't!" He rode a short distance, turned in his saddle, waved his
hand and cried: "God bless you, my boy."




CHAPTER III.

ALL WAS DARKNESS.


Delays and difficulties of traveling, together with his own
determination to do the work thoroughly, prolonged DeGolyer's absence.
Nearly three months had passed. Evening was come, and from a distant
hill-top the returning traveler saw the steeple of Ulmata's church--a
black mark on the fading blush of lingering twilight. A chilly
darkness crept out of the valley. Hungry dogs barked in the dreary
village. DeGolyer could see but a single light. It burned in the
priest's house--a dark age, and as of yore, with all the light held by
the church. The weary man liberated his mule on a common, where its
former companions were grazing, and sought the house of his friends.
The house was dark and the doors were fastened. He knocked, and a
startling echo, an audible darkness, came from the valley. He knocked
again, and a voice cried from the street:

"Who's that?"