st peon. She did not even know how surely the destiny of her
mother and her own destiny had been formed by a priest's craft. She
would never know, because her mind would refuse to accept it. There
were thousands like her because of their shadowed inheritance.
Revolution for the men grew out of that bondage of women, and Rotil
had isolated moments when he dreamed of a vast and blessed freedom of
the land--schools, and schools, and more schools until knowledge would
belong to the people instead of to the priests!

But he knew it was no use to tell thoughts like that to women; they
were afraid to let go their little wooden saints and the jargon of
prayers they did not understand. The mystery of it held them!

Thus brooded Rotil, unlearned driver of burros and general of an army
of the people!

"We will forget all but the ammunition," he said. "It is as food to my
men, and some of them are starving there to the east; with ammunition
food can be commandeered. I knew the guns were on Soledad land, but
even a golden dream of angels would not have let me hope for as much
as you have given me. It is packed,--that room, from floor to roof
tiles. In the morning I take the trail, and there is much to be done
before I go. You;--I must think of first. Will you let me be your
confessor, and tell me any wish of your heart I may help you to?"

"My heart has no wish left alive in it," she said. "There have been
days when I had wish for the hut under the palms where my mother
lived. A childish wish,--but other wishes are dead!"

"There is no going back," he said, staring at the tiles, and not
looking at her. "It is of future things we must think. He said
things--Perez did, and you----"

"Yes!" she half whispered. "There is no way but to tell of it, but--I
would ask that the child wait outside. The story is not a story for a
girl child, Ramon."

He motioned to Tula.

"Outside the door, but in call," he said, and without a word or look
Tula went softly out.

There was silence for a bit between them, her hands were clasped at
full length, and she leaned forward painfully tense, looking not at
him, but past him.

"It is not easy, but you will comprehend better than many," she said
at last. "There were three of us. There was my little brother Palemon,
who ran away last year to be a soldier--he was only fourteen. Jose
would not let me send searchers for him, and he may be dead. Then
there was only--only Lucita and me. You maybe rem