rom a bench just outside
the entrance to the Mission garden.

"My son," he said, in calm, paternal accents and speaking in Spanish,
"I knew you would come to see your old friends when you had laid aside
the burdens of the day. I have waited here to be first to greet you;
for you I am guilty of the sin of selfishness."

"Padre Dominic!" Don Mike grasped the out-stretched hand and wrung it
heartily. "Old friend! Old Saint! Not since my confirmation have I
asked for your blessing," and with the words he bent his head while the
old friar, making the sign of the cross, asked the blessing of God upon
the last of the Farrels.

Don Mike drew his old friend down to the seat the latter had just
vacated. "We will talk here for awhile, Father," he suggested. "I
expect the arrival of a friend in an automobile and I would not be in
the garden when he passes. Later I will visit with the others. Good
Father Dominic, does God still bless you with excellent health?"

"He does, Miguel, but the devil afflicts me with rheumatism."

"You haven't changed a bit, father Dominic."

"Mummies do not change, my son. I have accomplished ninety-two years
of my life; long ago I used up all possibilities for change, even for
the worse. It is good to have you home, Miguel. Pablo brought us the
news early this morning. We wondered why you did not look in upon us
as you passed last night."

"I looked in at my father's grave. I was in no mood for meeting those
who had loved him."

For perhaps half an hour they conversed; then the peace of the valley
was broken by the rattling and labored puffing of an asthmatic
automobile.

Father Dominic rose and peered around the corner. "Yonder comes one
who practises the great virtue of economy," he announced, "for he is
running without lights. Doubtless he deems the moonlight sufficient."

Farrel stepped out into the road and held up his arm as a signal for
the motorist to halt. Old Bill Conway swung his prehistoric automobile
off the road and pulled up before the Mission, his carbon-heated motor
continuing to fire spasmodically even after he had turned off the
ignition.

"Hello, Miguel," he called, cheerily. "What are you doing here, son?"

"Calling on my spiritual adviser and waiting for you, Bill."

"Howdy, Father Dominic." Conway leaped out and gave his hand to the
old friar. "Miguel, how did you know I was coming?"

"This is the only road out of Agua Caliente basin--and I know