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For Tellef he would buy some dates—they were so good—and with this settled, all his presents were planned. Jerry recognized the type at once. It was a desert rat, one of those old men who, lured by the dream of gold, haunt the desert, usually alone. Years pass over their heads in the search which never ends. At last the gold mine that they will find some day becomes merely the excuse not the aim of the unending pilgrimage. The desert, the loneliness is claiming them. If they found a mine worth the developing, probably they would sell it and blow in the proceeds and be off again as soon as possible. They have been too long away from civilization for anything to surprise them. The desert is mysterious, the loneliness makes everything possible. “But as for you—I must punish you much more severely,” the twinkle in the man’s eyes grew more pronounced, and in spite of himself he smiled. “You are sentenced to be my rodman, to stay with me all the time we’re on the job.” The Abate was alone. His countenance was pale with anger, and he was pacing the room with slow but agitated steps. The stern authority of his look startled her. 'Read this letter,' said he, stretching forth his hand which held a letter, 'and tell me what that mortal deserves, who dares insult our holy order, and set our sacred prerogative at defiance.' Madame distinguished the handwriting of the marquis, and the words of the Superior threw her into the utmost astonishment. She took the letter. It was dictated by that spirit of proud vindictive rage, which so strongly marked the character of the marquis. Having discovered the retreat of Julia, and believing the monastery afforded her a willing sanctuary from his pursuit, he accused the Abate of encouraging his child in open rebellion to his will. He loaded him and his sacred order with opprobrium, and threatened, if she was not immediately resigned to the emissaries in waiting, he would in person lead on a force which should compel the church to yield to the superior authority of the father..