|6|That night in the dead late hours Adam suddenly awoke. The night seemed the same as all the desert nights—dark and cool under the mesquites—the same dead, unbroken silence. Adam’s keen intentness could not detect a slightest sound of wind or brush or beast. Something had pierced his slumbers, and as he pondered deeply there seemed to come out of the vagueness beyond that impenetrable wall of sleep a voice, a cry, a whisper. Had Margarita, sleeping or waking, called to him? Such queer visitations of mind, often repeated, had convinced Adam that he possessed a mystic power or sense.
When Adam awoke late, in the light of the sunny morning, unrealities of the night dispersed like the gray shadows and vanished. He arose eager, vigorous, breathing hard, instinctively seeking for action. The
