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[Illustration: SHE GLIDED AND WHIRLED IN THE MOONLIGHT, GRACEFUL AS A
WIND-BLOWN ROSE. _PAGE 284_]




                         WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE

                                  BY

                             RITTER BROWN
                     AUTHOR OF "MAN'S BIRTHRIGHT"

                             ILLUSTRATED BY
                              W. M. BERGER

                                New York
                        Desmond FitzGerald, Inc.




                            Copyright, 1912
                      By Desmond FitzGerald, Inc.




                                   TO
                                 MY SON




ILLUSTRATIONS

    "She glided and whirled in the moonlight, graceful
        as a wind-blown rose"                     _Frontispiece_
                                                         FACING
                                                           PAGE
    "The picture which she presented was one he carried
        with him for many a day"                            130

    "Instinctively he raised the casket with both hands"    272

    "'Madre! Madre _mia_!' she cried and flung herself
        into Chiquita's arms"                               292

    "They were startled by a low moan and saw Blanch
        sink slowly to the bench"                           330




    There is a tradition extant among the Indians of the Southwest,
    extending from Arizona to the Isthmus of Panama, to the effect
    that, Montezuma will one day return on the back of an eagle,
    wearing a golden crown, and rule the land once more; typifying
    the return of the Messiah and the rebirth and renewal of the race.




WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE




I


The beauty of midsummer lay upon the land--the mountains and plains of
Chihuahua. It was August, the month of melons and ripening corn. High
aloft in the pale blue vault of heaven, a solitary eagle soared in ever
widening circles in its flight toward the sun. Far out upon the plains
the lone wolf skulked among the sage and cactus in search of the rabbit
and antelope, or lay panting in the scanty shade of the yucca.

By most persons this little known land of the great Southwest is
regarded as the one which God forgot. But to those who are familiar with
its vast expanse of plain and horizon, its rugged sierras, its wild
desolate _mesas_ and solitary peaks of half-decayed mountains--its tawny
stretches of desert marked with the occasional skeletons of animal and
human remains--its golden wealth of sunshine and opalescent skies, and
have felt the brooding death-like silence which seems to hold as in a
spell all things living as well as dead, this land becomes one of
mystery and enchantment--a mute witness of some unknown or forgotten
past when the children of men were young, whose secrets it still
withholds, and with whose dust is mingled not only that of unnumbered
and unknown generations of men, but that of Montezuma and the hardy
daring _Conquistadores_ of old Spain.

But whatever may be the general consensus of opinion concerning this
land, such at least was the light in which it was viewed by Captain
Forest, as he and his Indian attendant, Jose, drew rein on the rim of a
broken, wind-swept _mesa_ in the heart of the Chihuahuan desert, a full
day's ride from Santa Fe whither they were bound, to witness the
_Fiesta_, the Feast of the Corn, which was celebrated annually at this
season.

The point where they halted commanded a sweeping view of the surrounding
country. Just opposite, some five leagues distant, on the farther side
of the valley which lay below them, towered the sharp ragged crest of
the Mexican Sierras; their sides and foothills clothed in a thin growth
of chaparral, pine and juniper and other low-growing bushes. Deep,
rugged _arroyos_, the work of the rain and mountain torrents, cut and
scarred the foothills which descended in precipitous <DW72>s to the
valley and plains below. Solitary giant cactus dotted the landscape,
adding to the general desolation of the scene, relieved only by the
glitter of the silvery sage, white poppy and yucca, and yellow and
scarlet cactus bloom which glistened in the slanting rays of the
afternoon sun and the intense radiation of heat in which was mirrored
the distant mirage; transforming the desert into wonderful lakes of
limpid waters that faded in turn on the ever receding horizon.

Below them numerous Indian encampments of some half-wild hill tribe
straggled along the banks of the almost dry stream which wound through
the valley until lost in the thirsty sands of the desert beyond.

"'Tis the very spot, _Capitan_--the place of the skull!" ejaculated
Jose, the first to break the silence. "See--yonder it lies just as we
left it!" and he pointed toward the foot of the _mesa_ where a spring
trickled from the rock, a short distance from which lay a human skull
bleached white by long exposure to the sun.

Instinctively the Captain's thoughts reverted to the incidents of the
previous year when he lay in the desert sick unto death with fever and
his horse, Starlight, had stood over his prostrate body and fought the
wolves and vultures for a whole day and night until Jose returned with
help from the Indian _pueblo_, La Guna. Involuntarily his hand slipped
caressingly to the animal's neck, a chestnut with four white feet and a
white mane and tail that swept the ground and a forelock that hung to
his nostrils, concealing the star on his forehead; a magnificent animal,
lithe and graceful as a lady's silken scarf, untiring and enduring as a
Damascus blade. A horse that comes but once during twenty generations of
Spanish-Arabian stock, and then is rare, and which, through some trick
of nature or reversion, blossoms forth in all the beauty of an original
type, taking upon himself the color and markings of some shy, wild-eyed
dam, the pride of the Bedouin tribe and is known as the "Pearl of the
Desert." The type of horse that bore Alexander and Jenghis Khan and the
Prophet's War Chieftains to victory. As a colt he had escaped the
_rodeo_. No mark of the branding-irons scarred his shoulder or thin
transparent flanks. Again the Captain's thoughts traveled backward and
he beheld a band of wild horses driven past him in review by a troup of
Mexican _vaqueros_, and the beautiful chestnut stallion emerge from the
cloud of dust on their rim and tossing his great white mane in the
breeze, neigh loudly and defiantly as he swept by lithe and supple of
limb.

"Bring me that horse!" he had cried.

"That horse? _Jose y Maria