I kept a loving grip on the little hand that had found mine, as I would have gripped Beverly’s hand sometimes in moments when we talked together as boys do, in the confidences they never give to anybody else.

A gray shadow dropped on the moon, and a chill night wind crept down inside the walls.  A sudden fear fell on us.  The noises inside the billiard room seemed far away, and all the doors except ours were closed.  Santan had crept between us and the two open doorways leading to our rooms.  What if he should slip inside.  A snake would have seemed better to me.

A silence had fallen on us, and Eloise still clung to my hand.  I held it tightly to assure her I wasn’t afraid, but I could not speak nor move.  Aunty Boone’s crooning voice was still, and everything had grown weird and ghostly.  The faint wailing cry of some wild thing of the night plains outside crept to our ears, making us shiver.

“When the stars go to sleep an’ the moon pulls up the gray covers, it’s time to shut your eyes an’ forget.”  Aunty Boone’s soft voice broke the spell comfortingly for us.  “Any crawlin’ thing that gits in my way now, goin’ to be stepped on.”

At the low hissing sound of the last sentence there was a swift scrambling along the shadows of the porch, and a door near the kitchen snapped shut.  The big shining face of the African woman glistened above us and the court was flooded again with the moon’s silvery radiance.  As we all sprang up to rush for our rooms, “Little Lees” pulled me toward her and gently kissed my cheek.

“You never would let Marcos in if he came to Fort Leavenworth, would you?” she whispered.

“I’d break his head clear off first,” I whispered back, and then we scampered away.

That night I dreamed again of the level plains and Uncle Esmond and misty mountain peaks, but the dark eyes were not there, though I watched long for them.

The next day we left Fort Bent, and when I passed that way again it was a great mass of yellow mounds, with a piece of broken wall standing desolately here and there, a wreck of the past in a solitary land.

II

BUILDING THE TRAIL

IX

IN THE MOON OF THE PEACH BLOSSOM

Love took me softly by the hand,
Love led me all the country o’er,
And showed me beauty in the land,
That I had never seen before. 
—­ANONYMOUS.

You might not be able to find the house to-day, nor the high bluff whereon it stood.  So many changes have been wrought in half a century that what was green headland and wooded valley in the far ’50’s may be but a deep cut or a big fill for a new roadway or factory site to-day.  So diligently has Kansas City fulfilled the scriptural prophecy that “every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low.”