dro, as he knotted the gold into
his handkerchief and put it into his bosom. "But he was murdered, Mrs.
Hartsel,--murdered, just as much as if they had fired a bullet into
him."

"That's true." she exclaimed vehemently. "I say so too; and so was Jose.
That's just what I said at the time,--that bullets would not be half so
inhuman!"

The words had hardly left her lips, when the door from the dining-room
burst open, and a dozen men, headed by the drunken Jim, came stumbling,
laughing, reeling into the kitchen.

"Where's supper! Give us our supper! What are you about with your Indian
here? I'll teach you how to cook ham!" stammered Jim, making a lurch
towards the stove. The men behind caught him and saved him. Eyeing the
group with scorn, Mrs. Hartsel, who had not a cowardly nerve in her
body, said: "Gentlemen, if you will take your seats at the table, I will
bring in your supper immediately. It is all ready."

One or two of the soberer ones, shamed by her tone, led the rest back
into the dining-room, where, seating themselves, they began to pound the
table and swing the chairs, swearing, and singing ribald songs.

"Get off as quick as you can, Alessandro," whispered Mrs. Hartsel, as
she passed by him, standing like a statue, his eyes, full of hatred and
contempt, fixed on the tipsy group. "You'd better go. There's no knowing
what they'll do next."

"Are you not afraid?" he said in a low tone.

"No!" she said. "I'm used to it. I can always manage Jim. And Ramon's
round somewhere,--he and the bull-pups; if worse comes to worse, I can
call the dogs. These San Francisco fellows are always the worst to get
drunk. But you'd better get out of the way!"

"And these are the men that have stolen our lands, and killed my father,
and Jose, and Carmena's baby!" thought Alessandro, as he ran swiftly
back towards the graveyard. "And Father Salvierderra says, God is good.
It must be the saints no longer pray to Him for us!"

But Alessandro's heart was too full of other thoughts, now, to dwell
long on past wrongs, however bitter. The present called him too
loudly. Putting his hand in his bosom, and feeling the soft, knotted
handkerchief, he thought: "Twenty dollars! It is not much! But it will
buy food for many days for my Majella and for Baba!"

XVIII

EXCEPT for the reassuring help of Carmena's presence by her side, Ramona
would never have had courage to remain during this long hour in the
graveyard. As it was, she t