hey? Were they
wholly Latin? Jose had grave doubts. And her keen mind, and deep
religious instinct? Who knew? He could only be sure that they had come
from a source far, far above her present lowly environment. With that
much he must for the present be content.

* * * * *

Another month unfolded its length in quiet days, and Rosendo again
returned. Not ill this time, nor even much exhausted. Nor did the
little leathern pouch contain more than a few _pesos_ in gold dust.
But determination was written grim and trenchant upon his black face
as he strode into the parish house and extended his great hand to the
priest.

"I have only come for more supplies, Padre," he said. "I have some
three _pesos_ worth of gold. Most of this I got around Culata, near
Don Felipe's quartz vein, the Andandodias. _Caramba_, what veins in
those hills! If we had money to build a mill, and knew how to catch
the gold, we would not need to wash the river sands that have been
gone over again and again for hundreds of years!"

But Jose's thoughts were of the Alcalde. He determined to send for him
at once, while Rosendo was removing the soil of travel.

Don Mario came and estimated the weight of the gold by his hand. Then
he coolly remarked: "_Bien, Senor Padre_, I will send Rosendo to my
_hacienda_ to-morrow to cut cane and make _panela_."

"And how is that, Don Mario?" inquired Jose.

The Alcalde began to bluster. "He owes me thirty _pesos oro_, less
this, if you wish me to keep it. I see no likelihood that he can ever
repay me. And so he must now work out his debt."

"How long will that take him, _amigo_?"

"_Quien sabe?_ _Senor Padre_," the Alcalde replied, his eyes
narrowing.

The priest braced himself, and his face assumed an expression that it
had not worn before he came to Simiti. "Look you now, my friend," he
began in tones pregnant with meaning. "I have made some inquiries
regarding your system of peonage. I find that you pay your _peones_
from twenty to thirty cents a day for their hard labor, and at the
same time charge them as much a day for food. Or you force them to buy
from you tobacco and rum at prices which keep them always in your
debt. Is it not so?"

"_Na_, Padre, you have been misinformed," the Alcalde demurred, with a
deprecating gesture.

"I have not. Lazaro Ortiz is now working for you on that system. And
daily he becomes more deeply indebted to you, is it not so?"

"