found the man she had been longing to see for many weary, heartsick
months. She found him dying.

To the surprise of the enthralled command, she fell in a dead swoon
when she looked upon the pallid face of Graydon Bansemer. She had
gone eagerly from one pallet to another, coming upon his near the
last. One glance was enough. His face had been in her mind for
months--just as she was seeing it now; she had lived in the horror
of finding him cold in death.

It was Teresa Velasquez who first understood. She knew that
Bansemer's one woman had found him at last. Her heart leaped with
hatred for one brief instant, then turned soft and contrite. If she
had learned to care for the big American herself during the hard
days when he had been so tender, she also had learned that her
worship was hopeless. She had felt his yearning love for another;
now she was looking upon that other. While the attendants were
bending over their unconscious companion, the Spanish girl stood
guard over the man who had been her guardian, the man whose life
was going out before her miserable, exhausted eyes.

Jane Cable stirred with returning life; Teresa was quick to see that
words not medicine would act as the restorative. She went swiftly
to the American girl's side and, clasping her hands, cried sharply
into her half conscious ears:

"He is not dead! He is alive! He needs you!"

The effect was magical. Life leaped into Jane's eyes, vigour into
her body. She recovered from the swoon as mysteriously as she had