The Apaches had robbed the pay train and
killed six men, and the very deuce was to pay all around. . . .
Again he was swimming, and a beautiful girl reached out a hand
and saved him. Ah! how beautiful she was, how soft and rich the
deep brown of her eyes! . . . The scene shifted. The president
of the South American republic had accepted his sword (unbeknown
to the United States authorities), and he was aiding to quell
the insurrection. And just then some one whispered to him that
gold would rise fifty points. And as he put out his hands to
gather in the glittering coins which were raining down, the face
of Colonel Beauvais loomed up, scowling and furious. . . . And
yet again came the beautiful girl. He was holding her hand and
the archbishop had his spread out in benediction over their
heads. . . . A hand, which was not of dreamland, shook him by
the arm. He opened his eyes. Fitzgerald was standing over him.
The light of the sun spangled the walls opposite the windows.
The clock marked the eleventh hour of day.
"Hang you!" he said, with blinking eyes; "why didn't you let me
be? I was just marrying the princess, and you've spoiled it all.
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