more crop off them, it will be
something; but my land is of the richest in the valley, and as soon as
the Americans see it, they will want it. Farewell, Father. I thank you
for keeping my money, and for all you said to the thief Morong. Ysidro
told me. Farewell." And he was gone, and out of sight on the swift
galloping Benito, before Father Gaspara bethought himself.

"And I remembered not to ask who his wife was. I will look back at the
record," said the Father. Taking down the old volume, he ran his eye
back over the year. Marriages were not so many in Father Gaspara's
parish, that the list took long to read. The entry of Alessandro's
marriage was blotted. The Father had been in haste that night.
"Alessandro Assis. Majella Fa--" No more could be read. The name meant
nothing to Father Gaspara. "Clearly an Indian name," he said to himself;
"yet she seemed superior in every way. I wonder where she got it."

The winter wore along quietly in San Pasquale. The delicious soft rains
set in early, promising a good grain year. It seemed a pity not to get
in as much wheat as possible; and all the San Pasquale people went early
to ploughing new fields,--all but Alessandro.

"If I reap all I have, I will thank the saints," he said. "I will plough
no more land for the robbers." But after his fields were all planted,
and the beneficent rains still kept on, and the hills all along the
valley wall began to turn green earlier than ever before was known,
he said to Ramona one morning, "I think I will make one more field of
wheat. There will be a great yield this year. Maybe we will be left
unmolested till the harvest is over."

"Oh, yes, and for many more harvests, dear Alessandro!" said Ramona,
cheerily. "You are always looking on the black side."

"There is no other but the black side, Majella," he replied. "Strain my
eyes as I may, on all sides all is black. You will see. Never any more
harvests in San Pasquale for us, after this. If we get this, we are
lucky. I have seen the white men riding up and down in the valley, and
I found some of their cursed bits of wood with figures on them set up
on my land the other day; and I pulled them up and burned them to ashes.
But I will plough one more field this week; though, I know not why it
is, my thoughts go against it even now. But I will do it; and I will not
come home till night, Majella, for the field is too far to go and come
twice. I shall be the whole day ploughing." So saying, h