"Come, come; you must buck up, old soldier," she assured him. "You'll have to meet Pablo and Carolina very soon." "I'm so alone and desperate," he muttered, through clenched teeth. "You can't--realize what this means--to me. My father was an old man--he had--accomplished his years--and I weep for him, because I loved--him. But oh, my home--this--dear land--" He choked, and, in that moment, she forgot that this man was a stranger to her. She only knew that he had been stricken, that he was helpless, that he lacked the greatest boon of the desolate--a breast upon which he might weep. Gently she lifted the black head and drew it down on her shoulder; her arm went round his neck and patted his cheek, and his full heart was emptied. There was so much of the little boy about him! VIII The fierce gust of emotion which swept Don Mike Farrel was of brief duration. He was too sane, too courageous to permit his grief to overwhelm him completely; he had the usual masculine horror of an exhibition of weakness, and although the girl's sweet sympathy and genuine womanly tenderness had caught him unawares, he was, nevertheless, not insensible of the incongruity of a grown man weeping like a child on the shoulder of a young woman--and a strange young woman at that. With a supreme effort of will, he regained control of himself as swiftly as he had lost it, and began fumbling for a handkerchief. "Here," she murmured; "use mine." She reached up and, with her dainty wisp of handkerchief, wiped his wet cheeks exactly as if he had been a child. He caught the hand that wielded the handkerchief and kissed it gratefully, reverently. "God bless your dear, kind heart!" he murmured. "I had thought nobody could possibly care--that much. So few people--have any interest in the--unhappiness of others." He essayed a twisted smile. "I'm not usually this weak," he continued, apologetically. "I never knew until to-night that I could be such a lubberly big baby, but, then, I wasn't set for this blow. This afternoon, life executed an about face for me--and the dogs got me started after I'd promised myself--" He choked again on the last word. She patted his shoulder in comradely fashion. "Buck up, Don Mike!" she pleaded. "Tears from such men as you are signs of strength, not weakness. And remember--life has a habit of obeying commanding men. It may execute another about face for you." "I've lost everything that made life livable," he protested. "Ah! No, no! You must not say that. Think of that cheerful warrior who, in defeat, remarked, 'All is lost save honor.'" And she touched the pale-blue star-sprinkled ribbon on his left breast. He smiled again, the twisted smile.