"Welcome to our home, Sir John," said Bill Breakstone, "we have no title to it, and it probably belonged to some Mexican sheep herder or hunter, but since our arrival none has appeared to claim it."
He threw open the door, and all went inside into the dry dark. John heard the door close behind him, a bar fell into place, and then the striking of a match came to his ear. A little blue flame appeared and grew. Arenberg, who had struck the match, lighted a pine torch, which he stuck at an angle in a hole in the wall, and a fine red flame lighted up the whole interior of the little cabin. Cabin! It was no cabin to John Bedford. It was a gorgeous palace, the finest that he had ever seen, and he was surrounded by the most devoted and daring friends that man ever had. Had they not just proved it?
The little torch disclosed a hard earthen floor, upon which the skins of wild animals had been spread, log walls with wooden hooks and pins inserted here and there, evidently within recent days, a strong board roof, rafters from which skins and some tools hung, a fireplace with a stone hearth, and four narrow skin couches, three of which had been often occupied, the fourth never. Outside, the wind still wailed, and the cold rain still beat upon the logs, but here it was warm, dry, and light. The greatness of it all suddenly overwhelmed John, and he sank forward in a faint.
Phil instantly seized his brother and raised him up, but Breakstone and Arenberg told him not to be alarmed, that it was merely the collapse of a weakened frame after tremendous tension, both physical and mental. Breakstone brought water in a gourd from a pail that stood in the corner, and soon John sat up again, very much ashamed of himself, and offering many apologies, at all of which the others laughed.
"Considering all you've been through to-night," said Bill Breakstone, "it's a wonder that you held out so long. I wouldn't have believed that you could do it, if I hadn't known your brother so well. Good thing I learned to be an actor. I was always strong in those Spanish parts. Wide hat brim, big black cloak coming up to meet the hat brim, terrible sword at my thigh, and terrible frown behind the cloak and the hat brim. Now, Hans, I think you can light the fire on the hearth there. No chance that anybody will see the smoke on a night like this, and there's no reason why we shouldn't dry our clothes and have a gay party. We've carried through our great adventure, and we'll just royster over it awhile."
Arenberg, without another word, took down the pine torch from its hole in the wall and ignited the heap of dry pine boughs that lay in the fireplace. They caught at once, crackled, and blazed pleasantly. Warm red shadows were soon cast across the floor, and a generous heat reached them all. They basked in it, and turned about and about, drying all their clothing and driving the last sign of chill from their bones. Arenberg also made coffee over the coals, and cooked venison, which they had in abundance. When John ate and drank in plenty, he felt that life did not have much more to offer. He sat on one of the skins, leaned comfortably against the wall, and contemplated his younger brother.
"You have grown a lot, Phil," he said.
"You didn't expect him to stand still, just because you were away locked up in a castle?" asked Bill Breakstone. "He had to grow up, so he could come and rescue you. Such tasks are too big for little children."
John Bedford smiled indulgently.
"It was certainly a big job," he said. "I am the one who ought to appreciate most its size and danger. It was a big thing to get through Texas even. Of course I learned while I was a prisoner in the castle that the Mexicans had retaken it. It made me feel mighty bad for a long time."