and that I'm
going to complain to our Government," continued Banks hurriedly.

"I go to speak to the Comandante," responded the priest gravely.

"And tell him that if he touches a hair of the ladies' heads we'll have
his own scalp," interrupted Brace impetuously.

Even Crosby's diplomatic modification of this speech did not appear
entirely successful.

"The Mexican soldier wars not with women," said the priest coldly.
"Adieu, messieurs!"

The cavalcade moved on. The Excelsior passengers at once resumed their
chorus of complaint, tirade, and aggressive suggestion, heedless of the
soldiers who rode stolidly on each side.

"To think we haven't got a single revolver among us," said Brace
despairingly.

"We might each grab a carbine from these nigger fellows," said Crosby,
eying them contemplatively.

"And if they didn't burst, and we weren't shot by the next patrol, and
if we'd calculated to be mean enough to run away from the women--where
would we escape to?" asked Banks curtly. "Hold on at least until we
get an ultimatum from that commodious ass at the Presidio! Then we'll
anticipate the fool-killer, if you like. My opinion is, they aren't in
any great hurry to try ANYTHING on us just yet."

"And I say, lie low and keep dark until they show their hand," added
Winslow, who had no relish for an indiscriminate scrimmage, and had his
own ideas of placating their captors.

Nevertheless, by degrees they fell into a silence, partly the effect
of the strangely enervating air. The fog had completely risen from the
landscape, and hung high in mid-air, through which an intense sun, shorn
of its fierceness, diffused a lambent warmth, and a yellowish, unctuous
light, as if it had passed through amber. The bay gleamed clearly and
distinctly; not a shadow flecked its surface to the gray impenetrable
rampart of fog that stretched like a granite wall before its entrance.
On one side of the narrow road billows of monstrous grain undulated to
the crest of the low hills, that looked like larger undulations of the
soil, furrowed by bosky canadas or shining arroyos. Banks was startled
into a burst of professional admiration.

"There's enough grain there to feed a thousand Todos Santos; and raised,
too, with tools like that," he continued, pointing to a primitive plow
that lay on the wayside, formed by a single forked root. A passing
ox-cart, whose creaking wheels were made of a solid circle of wood,
apparently sawn from an ordin