or; and the
essence of Fray Antonio's doctrine, as it was also of his own nature,
was gentleness and love.

XXXVII.

THROUGH DARKNESS TO LIGHT.

"I guess we're solid now, as far as bein' bothered by those sacred
devils goes," Young said, as we stepped down from the ledge of rock on
which we had been standing; "but this ain't no time t' take no chances,
an' th' sooner we see what show we've got for gettin' anywhere through
that cave, th' better it'll be. An' we've got t' look after Rayburn.
He's closter t' handin' in his checks t'-day than he's been at all. Just
think o' him keepin' still through all that row, an lettin' himself be
yanked around like a bag o' meal without takin' any notice of it! But
there's just a squeal of a chance for him if we do get clear away.
Knowin' that he's safe 'll do him more good, even, than fresh air an'
sunshine--an' oh Lord! how good fresh air an' sunshine 'll be, if ever
we do strike 'em again!"

When we descended the stair-way again to the little hollow in the rock
where Rayburn was lying, we found that he still remained in his dull
stupor and took no notice of our coming. Close beside were Pablo and El
Sabio, huddled together for mutual support in this very trying passage
of their lives. El Sabio, indeed, was a most melancholy and dejected
creature, for his short commons and his long confinement had taken the
spirit out of him pretty thoroughly; but for our purposes just then,
when his tractability was very necessary to us, it was a piece of
good-fortune that he had fallen into so low a way. As for Pablo, the boy
was in so dazed a condition that I feared greatly he would wholly lose
his wits.

There was only a faint suggestion of light in that deeply hidden place,
and Young struck a match that he might see to begin his explorations.
"Well, I'll be shot," he exclaimed, as the wax-taper shed its clear
light around us, "if here ain't a conductor's lantern hangin' up all
ready for us, an' a can o' kerosene oil!" As he lighted the lantern, and
the letters F. C. C. showed clearly on the glass, he added, in a tone of
still greater amazement: "Ferro-Carril Central! Why, it b'longs t' one
o' th' boys on th' Central!--but how th' dickens did it ever get _here_?
An' here's a lot of old clothes--th' sort o' rags th' low-down Greasers
wear. An' I'm blest," he went on, as he picked up a scrap of paper from
the floor, "if this ain't a Mexican Central ticket from Leon to Silao!
It's dat