been?"

"None whatever, Padre."

"Has it ever occurred to you, Rosendo, that, because of her deeply
religious nature, possibly her father was a priest?"

"_Caramba, no!_" ejaculated Rosendo, turning upon Jose. "What puts
that into your head, _amigo_?"

"As I have said, Rosendo," Jose answered, "her religious instinct."

"_Bien, Senor Padre_, you forget that priests are not religious."

"But some are, Rosendo," persisted Jose in a tone of protest.

"Perhaps. But those who are do not have children," was Rosendo's
simple manner of settling the argument.

Its force appealed to Jose, and he felt a shade of relief. But, if
Diego were not the father of Carmen, what motive had he for wishing to
take her with him, other than to train her eventually to become his
concubine? The thought maddened him. He almost decided to tell
Rosendo.

"But, Padre, we came out here to talk about the militia of which I am
to be captain. _Bien_, we must begin work to-morrow. _Hombre_, but the
senora's eyes will stand out when she sees me marching at the head of
the company!" He laughed like a pleased child.

"And now that we have gold, Padre, I must send to Cartagena for a gun.
What would one cost?"

"You probably could not obtain one, Rosendo. The Government is so
afraid of revolutions that it prohibits the importation of arms. But
even if you could, it would cost not less than fifty _pesos oro_."

"Fifty _pesos_! _Caramba!_" exclaimed the artless fellow. "Then I get
no gun! But now let us name those who will form the company."

By dwelling on the pleasing theme, Jose managed to keep Rosendo
engaged until fatigue at length drove the old man to seek his bed. The
town was wrapped in darkness as they passed through its quiet streets,
and the ancient Spanish lantern, hanging crazily from its moldering
sconce on the corner of Don Felipe's house, threw the only light into
the black mantle that lay upon the main thoroughfare.

* * * * *

At sunrise, Jose was awakened by Rosendo noisily entering his house.
A glance at the old man showed that he was laboring under strong
emotion.

"What sort of friendship is this," he demanded curtly, "that you keep
me from learning of Diego's presence in Simiti? It was a trick you
served me--and friends do not so to one another!" He stood looking
darkly at the priest.

"Have you seen him, then? Good heavens, Rosendo! what have you done to
him?" cried Jose, ha