THE PASSING OF OLD CENTURY
Jessica and her escort, John Benton, rode swiftly up the canyon trail and over the brow of the mesa toward the shepherd’s cabin; but they had not proceeded far along the upland before a sense of the strangeness of things oppressed them both.
John’s keen eye detected the neglect of the sheep, which were still huddled in the corral, though long past their hour for pasturage; while their bleating expressed hunger as well as dislike of their unusual imprisonment. But Jessica saw first the abject attitude of the collie, Keno, who came reluctantly to greet them with down-hanging head and tail and a reproachful upward glance of his brown eyes.
“Why, you poor doggie! What’s happened you? You look as if you’d been beaten. Where’s your master, good Keno? Keno, where’s Pedro?”
The Indian was nowhere visible, and as if he fully understood the question, the collie answered by a long, lugubrious whine.
“Something’s wrong. That’s as plain as preachin’!” cried John, and hurried to the little house, whose door stood open, but about which there was no sign of life.
He had tossed his bridle to the captain, meaning that if aught were amiss within she should be detained for the present by holding the horses. However, 111 she saw through this ruse, and, leaping from Buster, swiftly hobbled both animals and ran after the carpenter.
Keno kept close at her heels, the very presentment of canine misery, and uttering at every few steps that doleful whine which was so unusual to him. But, arrived at the cabin, he left her and with one bound had reached the Indian’s side, where he still sat beside his window, his head against its casing and his blanket––Jessica’s gift––closely wrapped about him. He did not move when they entered, nor respond even by objection to the collie’s frantic blandishments, but John raised his hand for silence, as she stood sorrowfully gazing downward upon the face of death.
Yes, it was that. He had more than rounded his century of years, he had lived uprightly, as the good padres had taught; he had bestowed upon those he loved the secret of great wealth, and he had gone to keep his precious Navidad in the home of eternal youth.
Jessica comprehended the truth at once, and her eyes filled with the tears which, as yet, did not overflow; for as she gazed upon the sleeper’s face it filled her with amazement and something akin to delight; and at last she exclaimed: