d through his veins, and obeyed. Roldan sprang to
his feet. "We are above the tunnel of the Mission," he said. "And we
have a pickaxe. All we have to do is to dig."

XIX

It was three hours later that a mass of loosened earth caved suddenly,
carrying Adan with it. A wild yell came back. It stopped abruptly, the
tag end of it shot forth like the quick last blast from a trumpet.

"Hi, Adan!" called Roldan, excitedly, peering down into the dark. "Are
you hurt?"

"I know not! I know not! It is darker than a dungeon of a Mission." The
voice was quite distinct. It came from no great depth.

"Get out of the way," called Roldan. "I am coming." He waited a moment,
then dropped, falling on a mass of soft earth. Adan had prudently
retreated a few steps. He ran forward and helped Roldan to his feet,
just as Rafael came flying down.

"Now for the other end," said Roldan. "This air is not too good. And
that devil may return any moment."

They ran down the tunnel. It was wide and high, built for flying
priests, should the Mission be besieged and captured by savage tribes.
The air was close and heavy, but free from noxious gases. Bats whirred
past and rats scampered before them. Roldan paused after a moment and
lit his lantern. Its thin ray leaped but a few feet ahead, but would
frighten away any wild beast of the forest that might have wandered in.

The tunnel was straight. It also appeared to be endless.

"We have walked twenty leagues," groaned Adan, at the end of an hour.

"Two," said Roldan. "Without doubt this tunnel ends at the mountains,
and they are four leagues from the Mission. But you have taken longer
walks than this, my friend. Do you remember that night in the
mountains?"

"I had forgotten it for one blessed week. Rafael, to what have we
brought you? Your poor muscles are soft, where ours are now as hard as
a deserter's from an American barque--ay, yi!"

"If they have but the chance to become soft once more after they too
are hard!" muttered Rafael, who was panting and lagging. "That priest!
that priest!"

"It is true," said Roldan, pausing abruptly. "You will not dare to
return home at present--nor we. It is flight once more--to Los Angeles.
We will stay there--where he would not dare touch us if he came--until
he repents or makes sure that we will have told if we intend to tell.
Will you come?"

"Will I? I would go to Mexico if I could. I feel that there is not room
in the Californias for those ha