efully, I feel that we shall be
tried--and we may not live to see the results of our labors. There are
influences abroad which threaten danger to Carmen and to us. Perhaps
we shall not avert them. But we have given ourselves to her, and
through her to the great purpose with which I feel she is concerned."

Rosendo slowly rose, and his great height and magnificent physique
cast the shadow of a Brobdignan in the light as he stood in the
doorway.

"Padre," he replied, "I am an old man, and I have but few years left.
But however many they be, they are hers. And had I a thousand, I would
drag them all through the fires of hell for the child! I cannot follow
you when you talk about God. My mind gets weary. But this I know, the
One who brought me here and then went away will some day call for
me--and I am always ready."

He turned into the house and sought his hard bed. The great soul knew
not that he reflected the light of divine Love with a radiance unknown
to many a boasting "vicar of Christ."

CHAPTER 9

At the first faint flush of morn Rosendo departed for the hills. The
emerald coronels of the giant _ceibas_ on the far lake verge burned
softly with a ruddy glow. From the water's dimpling surface downy
vapors rose languidly in delicate tints and drew slowly out in
nebulous bands across the dawn sky. The smiling softness of the
velvety hills beckoned him, and the pungent odor of moist earth
dilated his nostrils. He laughed aloud as the joyousness of youth
surged again through his veins. The village still slumbered, and no
one saw him as he smote his great chest and strode to the boat, where
Juan had disposed his outfit and was waiting to pole him across. Only
the faithful Dona Maria had softly called a final "_adioscito_" to him
when he left his house. A half hour later, when the dugout poked its
blunt nose into the ooze of the opposite shore, he leaped out and
hurriedly divested himself of his clothing. Then he lifted his chair
with its supplies to his shoulders, and Juan strapped it securely to
his back, drawing the heavy band tightly across his forehead. With a
farewell wave of his hand to the lad, the man turned and plunged into
the Guamoco trail, and was quickly lost in the dense thicket. Six days
later, if no accident befell, he would reach his destination, the
singing waters of the crystal Tigui.

His heart leaped as he strode, though none knew better than he what
hardships those six days held for hi