" Inez led her guests into the bedchamber, a bare
room with a dirt floor, from the window of which they watched Juan
go to meet a group of horsemen. Inez went out, too, and joined in
the parley. Then, after a time, the riders galloped away.
When Alaire, having watched the party out of sight, turned from
the window she found that Dave had collapsed upon a chair and was
sleeping, his limbs relaxed, his body sagging.
"Poor fellow, he's done up," Father O'Malley exclaimed.
"Yes; he hasn't slept for days," she whispered. "Help me." With
the assistance of Dolores they succeeded in lifting Dave to the
bed, but he half roused himself. "Lie down, dear," Alaire told
him. "Close your eyes for a few minutes. We're safe now."
"Somebody has to keep watch," he muttered, thickly, and tried to
fight off his fatigue. But he was like a drunken man.
"I'm not sleepy; I'll stand guard," the priest volunteered, and,
disregarding further protest, he helped Alaire remove Dave's coat.
Seeing that the bed was nothing more than a board platform covered
with straw matting, Alaire folded the garment for a pillow; as she
did so a handful of soiled, frayed letters spilled out upon the
floor.
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