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Page 37
"How came you here?" demanded Miles sternly. "Who are you?"
Even in the dimness he could see the radiant smile that answered him.
The calm voice spoke again: "You will understand that later. I am here
to help you."
As if a door had suddenly opened into that lighted room of which he
dreamed, Miles felt a sense of tranquillity, of happiness stirring
through him. Never in his life had he known such a sudden utter
confidence in anyone, such a glow of eager friendliness as this
half-seen, mysterious stranger inspired. "It is because I was lonelier
than I knew," he said mentally. "It is because human companionship gives
courage to the most self-reliant of us"; and somewhere in the words he
was aware of a false note, but he did not stop to place it.
The low, even voice of the stranger spoke again. "There are Indians on
your trail," he said. "A small band of Black Wolf's scouts. But don't be
troubled. They will not hurt you."
"You escaped from them?" demanded Miles eagerly, and again the light of
a swift smile shone into the night. "You came to save me--how was it?
Tell me, so that we can plan. It is very dark yet, but hadn't we better
ride? Where is your horse?"
He threw the earnest questions rapidly across the black night, and the
unhurried voice answered him. "No," it said, and the verdict was not to
be disputed. "You must stay here."
Who this man might be or how he came Miles could not tell, but this much
he knew, without reason for knowing it; it was someone stronger than he,
in whom he could trust. As the newcomer had said, it would be time
enough later to understand the rest. Wondering a little at his own swift
acceptance of an unknown authority, wondering more at the peace which
wrapped him as an atmosphere at the sound of the stranger's voice, Miles
made a place for him by his side, and the two talked softly to the
plashing undertone of the stream.
Easily, naturally, Miles found himself telling how he had been homesick,
longing for his people. He told him of the big familiar room, and of the
old things that were in it, that he loved; of his mother; of little
Alice, and her baby adoration for the big brother; of how they had
always sung hymns together Sunday night; he never for a moment doubted
the stranger's interest and sympathy--he knew that he cared to hear.
"There is a hymn," Miles said, "that we used to sing a lot--it was my
favorite; 'Miles's hymn,' the family called it. Before you came
to-night, while I lay there getting lonelier every minute, I almost
thought I heard them singing it. You may not have heard it, but it has a
grand swing. I always think"--he hesitated--"it always seems to me as if
the God of battles and the beauty of holiness must both have filled the
man's mind who wrote it." He stopped, surprised at his own lack of
reserve, at the freedom with which, to this friend of an hour, he spoke
his inmost heart.
"I know," the stranger said gently. There was silence for a moment, and
then the wonderful low tones, beautiful, clear, beyond any voice Miles
had ever heard, began again, and it was as if the great sweet notes of
an organ whispered the words:
God shall charge His angel legions
Watch and ward o'er thee to keep;
Though thou walk through hostile regions,
Though in desert wilds thou sleep.
"Great Heavens!" gasped Miles. "How could you know I meant that? Why,
this is marvellous--why, this"--he stared, speechless, at the dim
outlines of the face which he had never seen before to-night, but which
seemed to him already familiar and dear beyond all reason. As he gazed
the tall figure rose, lightly towering above him. "Look!" he said, and
Miles was on his feet. In the east, beyond the long sweep of the
prairie, was a faint blush against the blackness; already threads of
broken light, of pale darkness, stirred through the pall of the air; the
dawn was at hand.
"We must saddle," Miles said, "and be off. Where is your horse
picketed?" he demanded again.
But the strange young man stood still; and now his arm was stretched
pointing. "Look," he said again, and Miles followed the direction with
his eyes.
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