, least of all those gentile
Americanos. So" ...

The first strokes of the Angelus came from the nearer tower. With a
gesture Father Pedro waved Antonio aside, and opened the door of the
sacristy.

"_Ad Majorem Dei Gloria_."

II.

The hacienda of Don Juan Briones, nestling in a wooded cleft of the
foot-hills, was hidden, as Father Pedro had wisely reflected, from the
straying feet of travelers along the dusty highway to San Jose. As
Francisco, emerging from the _canada_, put spurs to his mule at the
sight of the whitewashed walls, Antonio grunted:

"Oh aye, little priest! thou wast tired enough a moment ago, and though
we are not three leagues from the Blessed Fisherman, thou couldst
scarce sit thy saddle longer. Mother of God! and all to see that little
mongrel, Juanita."

"But, good Antonio, Juanita was my playfellow, and I may not soon again
chance this way. And Juanita is not a mongrel, no more than I am."

"She is a _mestiza_, and thou art a child of the Church, though this
following of gypsy wenches does not show it."

"But Father Pedro does not object," urged the boy.

"The reverend father has forgotten he was ever young," replied Antonio,
sententiously, "or he wouldn't set fire and tow together."

"What sayest thou, good Antonio?" asked Francisco quickly, opening his
blue eyes in frank curiosity; "who is fire, and who is tow?"

The worthy muleteer, utterly abashed and confounded by this display of
the acolyte's direct simplicity, contented himself by shrugging his
shoulders, and a vague "_Quien sabe?_"

"Come," said the boy, gayly, "confess it is only the _aguardiente_ of
the Blessed Fisherman thou missest. Never fear, Juanita will find thee
some. And see! here she comes."

There was a flash of white flounces along the dark brown corridor, the
twinkle of satin slippers, the flying out of long black braids, and
with a cry of joy a young girl threw herself upon Francisco as he
entered the _patio_, and nearly dragged him from his mule.

"Have a care, little sister," laughed the acolyte, looking at Antonio,
"or there will be a conflagration. Am I the fire?" he continued,
submitting to the two sounding kisses the young girl placed upon either
cheek, but still keeping his mischievous glance upon the muleteer.

"_Quien sabe_?" repeated Antonio, gruffly, as the young girl blushed
under his significant eyes. "It is no affair of mine," he added to
himself, as he led Pinto away. "Perhaps Father Pedro i