is
presumed to be no 'Christian.' They entered the parsonage. Don Hilario was
to broach the business, but first Oversluys would satisfy himself that the
orchids were worth negotiation. He slipped away.

A glance settled that. The church was a low building of mud, as usual. On
either side the doorway, looking down the street, stood an ancient idol,
buried to the waist, but still five feet high. The features were battered,
but the round eyes, with pupils cut deep in a half circle, glared in
hideous threat, and the mouth gaped for blood; no need of an interpreter
there--one saw and felt the purpose. But Oversluys was not interested in
these familiar objects. He looked up. His comrade had not exaggerated the
size of the orchids, at least. They were noble specimens. But as for their
colour he could see no trace to guide him.

Don Hilario had gone to greet his parents; it was comparatively late when
he returned, but then he got to business forthwith. The Cura was startled.
He showed no indignation, but after pondering declined. Before going
further, Oversluys asked whether the orchids were white? Impatiently the
Cura replied that he never looked at them--very likely they were. People
decked the church with white flowers, and perhaps they got them from the
roof. He had other things to think about.

Oversluys guessed that the man was eager to sell but afraid, and fretful
accordingly. He raised his price, whilst Don Hilario taunted the Cura with
fearing his parishioners. That decided him. Loudly he declared that the
church was his own, and consented.

The deed must be done that night. But who would climb the church roof in
the dark? Don Hilario was prepared for that difficulty. He knew half a
dozen fellows of his own age and stamp who would enjoy the mischief. And
he went to collect them.

It was long past midnight when the band appeared--a set of lively young
ruffians. So vivacious were they, in fact, though not noisy, and so
disrespectful to their pastor as they drank a glass for luck, standing
round the board, that Oversluys thought it well to prepare for a 'row.' He
slipped out, saddled his mule and tied it by the door.

Then the young Indians filed off in high spirits, chuckling low and
nudging one another. The Cura followed to the door, commended them to
heaven and stopped. Don Hilario would not have that--he must take his
share of the enterprise. The others returned and remonstrated warmly. In
short, there was such