rest near the mission; but he was
careful to keep away from the neighborhood of the scene of his capture,
judging rightly that that place would be under surveillance at any time
of uneasiness. However, there was no thought of farther insurrection.
Their spirit had been broken with Pomponio's capture, for a long time,
at any rate. But although they had abandoned all idea of a general
uprising, they did everything in their power to annoy and harass their
enemies: stealing their horses and cattle and sheep; devastating their
crops of wheat and grapes, and, once or twice, setting fire to an
outlying mission house or granary. Their lofty idea of freedom from
servitude had degenerated thus into a system of petty depredation.

Here, among his friends, Pomponio passed the days quietly and sadly,
caring for nothing, and going through mechanically the routine of
each day. His spirit was crushed--not so much from the effects of his
treatment, but because his long thought of, long desired, purpose was
come to naught. He paid but little attention to the affairs of those
about him. They went and came, carried on their game of life, rousing in
him only a gleam of interest. Thus three years passed.

One day, in the early spring, the Indians went away on a foraging
expedition, leaving Pomponio alone in his hut. It had been a warm,
sunny day, and in the afternoon Pomponio dragged himself to a little
moss-covered bank under the trees, on which he stretched himself, and,
after a short time, he fell asleep. All was quiet. Not a sound was to be
heard save the insects humming drowsily in the heated air, and, now and
then, the whirr of an oriole as it flew swiftly past, lighting up with
a glint of gold the shadows among the trees. The oriole is sunlight
incarnate.

But this quiet scene was to be broken. The sound of branches snapping
beneath the tread of some heavy foot was heard. It drew near the
secluded spot; then the form of a man, carrying a musket, could be
discerned, making his way, to the glade. He reached the edge of the
clearing, when he espied the sleeping Indian, lying with his face
turned from him. He halted instantly. Was it an Indian belonging to the
mission, and playing truant, or one of the savages of the forests, from
whom the mission had suffered so much during the last three years? He
must find out. Creeping so slowly and carefully that not a sound was
heard again from his feet among the plants, he passed around the edge