“I am no traitor to my flag, since my full commerical purpose was known and sanctioned by the military authority at Fort Leavenworth before I left there.  I brought no aid to my country’s enemy because my full cargo was bargained for by your merchant, Felix Narveo, before the declaration of war was made.  I merely acted as his agent bringing his own to him.  I have come here as a spy only in this—­that I shall profit in strictly legitimate business by the knowledge I hold of commercial conditions and my acquaintance with your citizens when this war for territory ends, no matter how its results may run.  I deal in wholesome trade, not in human hate.  I offer value for value, not blood for blood.”

Up to this time a smile had lighted the merchant’s eyes.  But now his voice lowered, and the lines about his mouth hardened.

“As to the guardianship of children, Father Josef, I am a bachelor who for nearly nine years have given a home, education, support, and affection to three orphan children, until, though young in years, they are wise and capable.  So zealous was I for their welfare, that when word came to me—­no matter how—­that a company of Mexicans were on their way to Independence, Missouri, ostensibly to seek the protection of the United States Government and to settle on the frontier there, but really to seize these children in my absence, and carry them into the heart of old Mexico, I decided at once that they would be safer with me in New Mexico than without me in Missouri.

“In the night I passed this Mexican gang at Council Grove, waiting to seize me in the morning.  At Pawnee Rock a storm scattered a band of Kiowa Indians to whom these same Mexicans had given a little Indian slave girl as a reward for attacking our train if the Mexicans should fail to get us themselves.  Through every peril that threatens that long trail we came safely because the hand of the Lord preserved us.”

Esmond Clarenden paused, and the priest bowed a moment in prayer.

“If I have dared fate in this journey,” the merchant went on, “it was not to be foolhardy, nor for mere money gains, but to keep my own with me, and to rescue the daughter of Mary St. Vrain, of Santa Fe, and take her to a place of safety.  It was her mother’s last pleading call, as you, Father Josef, very well know, since you yourself heard her last words and closed her dead eyes.  Under the New Mexican law, the guardianship of her property rests with others.  Mine is the right to protect her and, by the God of heaven, I mean to do it!”

Esmond Clarenden’s voice was deep and powerful now, filling the old church with its vehemence.

Up by the altar, the little girl sat up suddenly and looked about her, terrified by the dim light and the strange faces there.

“Don’t be afraid, Eloise.”

How strangely changed was this gentle tone from the vehement voice of a moment ago.

The little girl sprang up and stared hard at the speaker.  But no child ever resisted that smile by which Esmond Clarenden held Beverly and me in loving obedience all the days of our lives with him.