em lie down in a fire for him, if he had commanded it.
And when he went away, to leave the country, when his heart was broken,
and the Mission all ruined, he had to fly by night, Majella, just as you
and I have done; for if the Indians had known it, they would have risen
up to keep him. There was a ship here in San Diego harbor, to sail for
Mexico, and the Father made up his mind to go in it; and it was over
this same road we have come, my Majella, that he rode, and by night; and
my father was the only one he trusted to know it. My father came with
him; they took the swiftest horses, and they rode all night, and my
father carried in front of him, on the horse, a box of the sacred things
of the altar, very heavy. And many a time my father has told me the
story, how they got to San Diego at daybreak, and the Father was rowed
out to the ship in a little boat; and not much more than on board was
he, my father standing like one dead on the shore, watching, he loved
him so, when, lo! he heard a great crying, and shouting, and trampling
of horses' feet, and there came galloping down to the water's edge three
hundred of the Indians from San Luis Rey, who had found out that the
Father had gone to San Diego to take ship, and they had ridden all night
on his track, to fetch him back. And when my father pointed to the ship,
and told them he was already on board, they set up a cry fit to bring
the very sky down; and some of them flung themselves into the sea, and
swam out to the ship, and cried and begged to be taken on board and go
with him. And Father Peyri stood on the deck, blessing them, and
saying farewell, with the tears running on his face; and one of the
Indians--how they never knew--made shift to climb up on the chains
and ropes, and got into the ship itself; and they let him stay, and
he sailed away with the Father. And my father said he was all his life
sorry that he himself had not thought to do the same thing; but he
was like one dumb and deaf and with no head, he was so unhappy at the
Father's going."

"Was it here, in this very harbor?" asked Ramona, in breathless
interest, pointing out towards the blue water of which they could see a
broad belt framed by their leafy foreground arch of oak tops.

"Ay, just there he sailed,--as that ship goes now," he exclaimed, as a
white-sailed schooner sailed swiftly by, going out to sea. "But the ship
lay at first inside the bar; you cannot see the inside harbor from here.
It is