years I heard the bugle-call. Did I say years? —nay, centuries!—for in that land one never grows old; I heard it through centuries after all my companions were dead."
(The priest crossed himself under the lamplight, and murmured a prayer. "Continue, hijo mio," he said at last; "tell me all.")
"It was anger, Padre; I wished to see for myself where the sounds came from that tortured my life. And I know not why she slept so deeply that night. As I bent over to kiss her, she moaned in her dreams, and I saw a crystal tear glimmer on the dark fringe of her eyes—and then that cursed bugle-call—"
The old man's voice failed a moment. He gave a feeble cough, spat blood, and went on:—
"I have little time to tell you more, Padre. I never could find my way back again to the valley. I lost her forever. When I wandered out among men, they spoke another language that I could not speak; and the world was changed. When I met Spaniards at last, they
