walls.

While watching these, but few words are exchanged between them, and only
in an under tone. Much or loud talk would not be in keeping with their
Indian character. Still enough passes in their muttered speeches--
observable also in the expression of their features--for any one hearing
the first, or seeing the last, to predict danger to the colony of
Colonel Armstrong. If looks count for aught, or words can be relied on
the chances seem as if the old San Saba mission-house, long in ruins,
may remain so yet longer.

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

A SUSPICIOUS SURVEILLANCE.

The ancient monastery, erst the abode of Spanish monks, now become the
dwelling-place of the ci-devant Mississippi planter, calls for a word of
description.

It stands on the right side of the river, several hundred yards from the
bank, on a platform slightly elevated above the general level of the
surrounding _terrain_.

The site has been chosen with an eye to the pleasant and picturesque--
that keen look-out towards temporal enjoyment, which at all times, and
in all countries, has characterised these spiritual teachers of the
heathen.

Its elevated position gives it command of a fine prospect, at the same
time securing it against the danger of inundation, when the river is in
flood.

In architectural style the mission-building itself does not much differ
from that of most Mexican country houses--called _haciendas_.

Usually a grand quadrangular structure, with an uncovered court in the
centre, the _patio_; around which runs a gallery or corridor,
communicating with the doors of the different apartments.

But few windows face outside; such as there are being casements,
unglazed, but protected by a _grille_ of iron bars set vertically--the
_reja_. In the centre of its front _facade_ is a double door, of
gaol-like aspect, giving admittance to the passage-way, called _saguan_;
this of sufficient capacity to admit a waggon with its load, intended
for those grand old coaches that lumbered along our own highways in the
days of Dick Turpin, and in which Sir Charles Grandison used luxuriously
to ride. Vehicles of the exact size, and pattern, may be seen to this
day crawling along the country roads of modern Mexico--relics of a
grandeur long since gone.

The _patio_ is paved with stone flags, or tesselated tiles; and, where a
head of water can be had, a fountain plays in the centre, surrounded by
orange-trees, or other evergreens, with flow