his feet and paced gloomily back and forth along the brow
of the hill. The second church stood near, deserted, gloomy, no longer
a temple of God, but a charnel house of fear and black superstition.
In the distance the ghostly white walls of the Rincon church glowed
faintly in the feeble light that dripped from the yellow stars. There
was now no thought of God--no thought of divine aid. Jose was riding
again the mountainous billows of fear and unbelief; nor did he look
for the Master to come to him through the thick night across the
heaving waters.

The tardy dawn brought Dona Maria to the foot of the hill, where she
deposited food, and held distant converse with the exiles. Don Mario
had just departed, taking the direction across the lake toward San
Lucas. He had compelled his wife to remain in Simiti to watch over the
little store, while he fled with two boatmen and abundant supplies.
Others likewise were preparing to flee, some to the Boque river, some
up the Guamoco trail. Dona Maria was keeping Carmen closely, nor would
she permit her to as much as venture from the house.

"Why should not the senora take Carmen and go to Boque, Rosendo?"
asked Jose. "Then you and I could occupy our own houses until we knew
what the future had in store for us."

Rosendo agreed at once. Carmen would be safe in the protecting care of
Don Nicolas. Dona Maria yielded only after much persuasion. From the
hilltop Jose could descry the Alcalde's boat slowly wending its way
across the lake toward the Juncal. Rosendo, having finished his
morning meal, prepared to meet the day.

"_Bien_, Padre," he said, "when the sun gets high we cannot stay here.
We must seek shade--but where?" He looked about dubiously.

"Why not in the old church, Rosendo?"

"_Caramba_, never!" cried Rosendo. "_Hombre!_ that old church is
haunted!"

Jose could never understand the nature of this man, so brave in the
face of physical danger, yet so permeated with superstitious dread of
those imaginary inhabitants of the invisible realm.

"Padre," suggested Rosendo at length. "We will go down there, nearer
the lake, to the old shack where the blacksmith had his forge. He died
two years ago, and the place has since been empty."

"Go then, Rosendo, and I will follow later," assented Jose, who now
craved solitude for the struggle for self-mastery which he saw
impending.

While Rosendo moved off toward the deserted shack, the priest
continued his restless pacing al