We scrambled down, shattering the dry earth after us as we
went. Jondo gently lifted the body and turned it face upward. It was
Ferdinand Ramero.
The big plainsman did not cry out, nor drop his hold, but his face
turned gray, and only the dying man saw the look in the blue eyes gazing
into his. Ramero tried to draw away, fear, and hate, and the old
dominant will that ruled his life, strong still in death. As he lay at
the feet of the man whose life hopes he had blasted, he expected no
mercy and asked for none.
"You have me at last. I didn't put the poison in that spring. I would
not have drunk it if I had. It was the one below I fixed for you. And
I'm in your power now. Be quick about it."
For one long minute Jondo looked down at his enemy. Then he lifted his
eyes to mine with the victory of "him that overcometh" shining in their
blue depths.
"If I could make you live, I'd do it, Fred. If you have any word to say,
be quick about it now. Your time is short."
The sweetness of that gentle voice I hear sometimes to-day in the low
notes of song-birds, and the gentle swish of refreshing summer showers.
Ferdinand Ramero lifted his cold blue eyes and looked at the man bending
over him.
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