rried at the priest's house, and push on to San Pasquale
that same night. "All day, in that canon, Majella can look at the sea,"
he thought; "but I will not tell her now, for it may be the trees have
been cut down, and we cannot be so close to the shore."

It was near sunrise when they reached the place. The trees had not been
cut down. Their tops, seen from above, looked like a solid bed of moss
filling in the canon bottom. The sky and the sea were both red. As
Ramona looked down into this soft green pathway, it seemed, leading out
to the wide and sparkling sea, she thought Alessandro had brought her
into a fairy-land.

"What a beautiful world!" she cried; and riding up so close to Benito
that she could lay her hand on Alessandro's, she said solemnly: "Do you
not think we ought to be very happy, Alessandro, in such a beautiful
world as this? Do you think we might sing our sunrise hymn here?"

Alessandro glanced around. They were alone on the breezy open; it was
not yet full dawn; great masses of crimson vapor were floating upward
from the hills behind San Diego. The light was still burning in the
light-house on the promontory walling the inner harbor, but in a few
moments more it would be day. "No, Majella, not here." he said. "We must
not stay. As soon as the sun rises, a man or a horse may be seen on this
upper coast-line as far as eye can reach. We must be among the trees
with all the speed we can make."

It was like a house with a high, thick roof of oak tree-tops, the
shelter they found. No sun penetrated it; a tiny trickle of water still
remained, and some grass along its rims was still green, spite of the
long drought,--a scanty meal for Baba and Benito, but they ate it with
relish in each other's company.

"They like each other, those two," said Ramona, laughing, as she watched
them. "They will be friends."

"Ay," said Alessandro, also smiling. "Horses are friends, like men, and
can hate each other, like men, too. Benito would never see Antonio's
mare, the little yellow one, that he did not let fly his heels at her;
and she was as afraid, at sight of him, as a cat is at a dog. Many a
time I have laughed to see it."

"Know you the priest at San Diego?" asked Ramona.

"Not well," replied Alessandro. "He came seldom to Temecula when I was
there; but he is a friend of Indians. I know he came with the men from
San Diego at the time when there was fighting, and the whites were in
great terror; and they said,