dust-parched voices made a mockery of their hopeful words.

Though the horizon seemed bounded by a low range of hills, the girl
instinctively turned her steps westward, and entered a draw. She
rounded one of the hills, and just as the sun was sinking, came upon the
valley in which their horses were peacefully grazing.

They mounted and followed the dim trail along which they had ridden that
morning, reaching the hacienda about dark. With many shakings of the
hand, voluble protestations of joy at their delivery from the desert,
and callings on God to witness that the girl had performed a miracle,
the haciendado gave them food and cooling drinks, and with gentle
insistence, had his servants, wife and daughters show them to their
rooms. A poultice of Mexican herbs was laid across Philip's eyes, but
exhausted as he was he could not sleep because of the pain they caused
him.

In the morning, Gloria was almost her usual self, but Philip could see
but faintly. As early as was possible they started for Fort Magruder.
His eyes were bandaged, and Gloria held the bridle of his horse and led
him along the dusty trail. A vaquero from the ranch went with them to
show the way.

Then came days of anxiety, for the surgeon at the Post saw serious
trouble ahead for Philip. He would make no definite statement, but
admitted that the brilliant young officer's eyesight was seriously
menaced.

Gloria read to him and wrote for him, and in many ways was his hands and
eyes. He in turn talked to her of the things that filled his mind. The