s all, Father."

The Father composed himself with difficulty, and, after a moment, spoke
with his accustomed calmness:

"My daughter, forgive me for speaking so harshly, and doubting your
word, for I know you would not have brought me the paper if you had not
come honestly by it. But I must see your husband at once."

The priest got his hat, and, accompanied by the woman, started quickly
for her home.

Now the woman had said nothing about the suspicions her husband had had,
and which he had imparted to her. However unworthy of her love, she
was Juan's mother, and, Indian though she was, and with the inherited
instincts of the savage, hers was the natural love found in civilized
and savage alike, and she could not bring herself to tell the Father
what she felt must be true. So, silently, the two hastened to her home.
Juan's father was in the garden back of the house, weeding his vegetable
patch, As soon as he saw his wife and the priest he came toward them.

"Pablo, tell me all you know about this paper?" said the Father
abruptly, without preamble of any kind.

The man related the fact of his finding it, which was, indeed, all there
was to tell. And then, with hesitation, spoke of Juan's absence.

The Father started.

"When did you see him last?" he asked.

"The day before yesterday, in the afternoon," replied the man. "He said
he was going to see Fernando Diaz, who lives on the mission road, two
miles north from here."

"Did you see him when he came back?" inquired the priest.

"No, Father," the man answered. "That is the last time we have seen
him."

Father Zalvidea asked the man to show him the place where he had found
the paper, and the two walked to the wheat-field. When they came to
the spot, the Father looked carefully around on the ground, hoping
to discover some trace of the box and its contents. Searching in the
stubble, he did actually find one of the gold coins, but that was all.
The box was too large to remain hidden in the field, and the Father
knew it must have been carried away. He showed Pablo, who had been
assisting in the search, the coin he had found, and then, as there was
no object in concealment, told him of his loss.

The man's astonishment at the enormity of his son's offense was
profound. He was struck dumb for some moments, but realizing, at last,
that his son was, in all likelihood, involved, he besought the Father to
have pity on him.

"Pablo," said the priest, "have you no