west end of the
valley, seeing the broad belt of cultivated fields and orchards, the
peaceful little hamlet of houses, he groaned. "If the people who make
these laws could only see this village, they would never turn us out,
never! They can't know what is being done. I am sure they can't know."

"What did I tell you?" cried Alessandro, galloping up on Benito, and
reining him in so sharply he reared and plunged. "What did I tell you?
I saw by your face, many paces back, that you had come as you went, or
worse! I have been watching for you these two days. Another American
has come in with Morong in the canon; they are making corrals; they will
keep stock. You will see how long we have any pasture-lands in that end
of the valley. I drive all my stock to San Diego next week. I will sell
it for what it will bring,--both the cattle and the sheep. It is no use.
You will see."

When Ysidro began to recount his interview with the land-office
authorities, Alessandro broke in fiercely: "I wish to hear no more of
it. Their names and their speech are like smoke in my eyes and my nose.
I think I shall go mad, Ysidro. Go tell your story to the men who are
waiting to hear it, and who yet believe that an American may speak
truth!"

Alessandro was as good as his word. The very next week he drove all
his cattle and sheep to San Diego, and sold them at great loss. "It
is better than nothing," he said. "They will not now be sold by the
sheriff, like my father's in Temecula." The money he got, he took to
Father Gaspara. "Father," he said huskily. "I have sold all my stock. I
would not wait for the Americans to sell it for me, and take the money.
I have not got much, but it is better than nothing. It will make that we
do not starve for one year. Will you keep it for me, Father? I dare not
have it in San Pasquale. San Pasquale will be like Temecula,--it may be
to-morrow."

To the Father's suggestion that he should put the money in a bank in San
Diego, Alessandro cried: "Sooner would I throw it in the sea yonder! I
trust no man, henceforth; only the Church I will trust. Keep it for me,
Father, I pray you," and the Father could not refuse his imploring tone.

"What are your plans now?" he asked.

"Plans!" repeated Alessandro,--"plans, Father! Why should I make plans?
I will stay in my house so long as the Americans will let me. You saw
our little house, Father!" His voice broke as he said this. "I have
large wheat-fields; if I can get one