o the
heavy shade of a willow. A number of doors had opened almost
simultaneously; there was the sharp crunch of dry brush, and dark
figures glided, with the snake-like motion peculiar to the Indian,
toward the upper end of the rancheria.

Roldan waited a moment, then followed softly. He had set himself the
duty of saving the Mission which had shown him hospitality, and was not
to be deterred. Moreover, the spirit of adventure was by no means
quenched.

In a few moments he paused opposite a large hut, from which issued a
subdued murmur. The window had been covered, but a thin ray of light
pierced through a crack in the door, and to this Roldan applied his eye.

The room was crowded with Indians standing respectfully about a man in
the middle of the room, whom Roldan knew instinctively to be Anastacio.
He was big and clean-limbed and sinewy, with small cunning eyes, a
resolute mouth and chin, and an air of perfect fearlessness. Roldan
warmed to him, and looked with admiration and envy at the muscles on
his splendid limbs.

He was speaking rapidly in the native patois, and Roldan could gather
little of his meaning beyond what his gestures conveyed. He shook his
fist in the direction of the Mission, snapped his fingers in scorn,
pointed toward the mountains, then made the motion of speeding an arrow
from the bow, at the same time contracting his face hideously.

Roldan stayed as long as he dared, then returned hastily to the
Mission. A friar was locking up for the night, and began to chide the
young guest for being out so late, but Roldan interrupted him
impatiently.

"Can I see Padre Flores to-night?" he asked. "I must see him. It is
important."

"He has retired to his cell, but I will take your message; and he never
denies himself to those that need him."

He went to the end of the corridor and tapped at a door. In a few
moments he returned.

"Padre Flores will see you," he said.

The priest was standing by the little altar in the corner of his cell
when Roldan entered.

"What is it, my son?" he asked. "Have you learned anything new? Padre
Estenega has told me of your suspicions."

Roldan rapidly related what he had seen. The priest's face became grave
and anxious.

"There is trouble brewing, I fear," he said. Then he smiled suddenly.
"You ran away to avoid fighting. It would be odd if you found yourself
in the midst of it."

"I did not run away to avoid fighting," said Roldan, flushing hotly.
"Pardo