At last came
sleep, and in my dreams Eloise was beside me as she had been in the
church of San Miguel, her dark eyes looking up into mine. I knew, in my
dream, that I was dreaming and I did not want to waken. For, "Eloise
loved Beverly, would always love him." Little Blue Flower had said it.
The face was far away, this side of misty mountain peaks, and farther
still. I could see only the eyes looking at me. I wakened to see only
the stars looking at me. I slept again deeply and dreamlessly, and
wakened suddenly. We were far and away from the Apache country, but
there, for just one instant, a face came close to mine--the face of
Santan--the Apache. It vanished instantly as it had come. The night
guard passed by me and crossed the camp. The stars held firm above me. I
had had another dream. But after that I did not sleep till dawn.
The day was very hot, with the scorching breeze of the plains that sears
the very eyeballs dry. Through the dust and glare we pressed on over
long, white, monotonous miles. Hovering near us somewhere were the
Comanches--waiting; with us was burning thirst; ahead of us ran the
taunting mirage--cool, sparkling water rippling between green
banks--receding as we approached, maddening us by the suggestion of its
refreshing picture, the while we knew it was only a picture.
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