man of God breathed easier. How simple! The
devil was firing a cracked blunderbuss.

"My son," he advanced with paternal unction, "you have been taught--or
should have been, ere this--that the healing miracles of our blessed
Saviour belong to a dispensation long past. They were special signs
from God, given at the time of establishing His Church on earth, to
convince an incredulous multitude. They are not needed now. We
convince by logic and reason and by historical witnesses to the deeds
of the Saints and our blessed Saviour." As he pronounced this sacred
name the holy man devoutly crossed himself. "Men would believe no more
readily to-day," he added easily, "even if they should see miracles of
healing, for they would attribute them to the human mentality, to
suggestion, hypnotism, hallucination, and the like. Even the mighty
deeds of Christ were attributed to Beelzebub." The complacent Father
settled back into his chair with an air of having disposed for all
time of the mooted subject of miracles.

"That begs the question, my Father!" returned the boy quickly and
excitedly. "And as I read church history it is thus that the question
has been begged ever since the first century!"

"What!" The Archbishop was waxing hot. "Do you, a mere child of
sixteen, dare to dispute the claims of Holy Church?"

"My Father," the boy spoke slowly and with awful earnestness, "I have
been four years in the _Seminario_. I do not find the true Christ
there; nor do I think I shall find him within the Church."

"_Sanctissima Maria!_" The Archbishop bounded to his feet "Have you
sold yourself to the devil?" he exploded. "Have you fed these years at
the warm breasts of the Holy Mother, only to turn now and rend her?
Have you become a Protester? Apostate and forsworn!"

"My Father," the boy returned calmly, "did Jesus tell the truth--or
did he lie? If he spoke truth, then I think he is _not_ in the
Church to-day. She has wholly misunderstood him--or else she--she
deliberately falsifies."

The Archbishop sank gasping into his chair.

Jose went on. "You call me apostate and forsworn. I am neither. One
cannot become apostate when he has never believed. As to being
forsworn--I am a Rincon!"

The erect head and flashing eyes of the youth drew an involuntary
exclamation of approval from the anxious secretary, who had stood
striving to evolve from his befuddled wits some course adequate to the
strained situation.

But the boy's proud beari