r, lived in a little adobe house,
a few paces from the mission church. Pomponio and Rosa had lived the
regular life of the neophytes, working at various occupations of the
community--Pomponio tilling the ground and caring for the crops, and
helping in the making of bricks for the houses; Rosa spinning and
weaving and cooking. After they were married they continued with their
customary labors, still under the tutelage of the fathers. But about
this time, Father Altimira had begun to notice the alteration in
Pomponio's demeanor. Wondering at the change in one of his most
promising neophytes, he had sought to find a clue to the mystery. From
an unquestioning readiness in everything pertaining to his mission life,
Pomponio had begun to neglect his duties, shirking the tasks given him,
wandering off among the mountains and stirring up the mission Indians
to a state of dissatisfaction and ill-feeling. Father Altimira had
seen Pomponio's growing negligence with concern, but to his questioning
Pomponio would give no answer as to the reason for his new attitude
toward his masters. The Father, finding that persuasion was of no avail
in correcting Pomponio's disobedience, had him locked up in the mission
prison for twenty-four hours, after which he was released with a
reprimand and warning.

Pomponio walked out of the prison and to his house without a word. For
a few days he was quiet and attentive to his work, not from fear of the
consequences of doing otherwise (that is not the Indian nature, even of
those poor natives of Nueva California), but because he was awaiting
his opportunity for inflicting some injury on his persecutors, as he had
come to think of them.

One night Father Altimira, who was a light sleeper, awoke, thinking he
had heard a faint noise in the room adjoining his bed-room, which was
used as a store-room for the books, the rich vestments embroidered with
gold and silver threads, and the money belonging to the mission. At this
time there was, in the strong iron-bound chest used for the safekeeping
of these valuables, a sum of nearly five thousand dollars in gold, and
the Father's first thought on waking, was of this money. Rising on his
elbow, he listened. Hearing nothing, he was about to lie down, when
again came the sound which had disturbed him, scarcely louder than the
chirp of a far-away cricket, and which, but for the utter silence of
the night, would have been swallowed up in the thick depths of the
ado