s intention to ascend the mountain at early dawn; and before
the sun rose the next morning he was leading the way.

The ascent was in many places difficult and dangerous. Huge fragments of
rock often lay across the trail, and after a few hours' climbing they
were forced to leave their mules in a little gully, and continue the
ascent afoot. Unaccustomed to such exertion, Father Jose often stopped
to wipe the perspiration from his thin cheeks. As the day wore on, a
strange silence oppressed them. Except the occasional pattering of a
squirrel, or a rustling in the _chimisal_ bushes, there were no signs of
life. The half-human print of a bear's foot sometimes appeared before
them, at which Ignacio always crossed himself piously. The eye was
sometimes cheated by a dripping from the rocks, which on closer
inspection proved to be a resinous oily liquid with an abominable
sulphurous smell. When they were within a short distance of the summit,
the discreet Ignacio, selecting a sheltered nook for the camp, slipped
aside and busied himself in preparations for the evening, leaving the
Holy Father to continue the ascent alone. Never was there a more
thoughtless act of prudence, never a more imprudent piece of caution.
Without noticing the desertion, buried in pious reflection, Father Jose
pushed mechanically on, and, reaching the summit, cast himself down and
gazed upon the prospect.

Below him lay a succession of valleys opening into each other like
gentle lakes, until they were lost to the southward. Westerly the
distant range hid the bosky _canada_ which sheltered the Mission of San
Pablo. In the farther distance the Pacific Ocean stretched away, bearing
a cloud of fog upon its bosom, which crept through the entrance of the
bay, and rolled thickly between him and the North. Eastward, the same
fog hid the base of the mountain and the view beyond. Still, from time
to time the fleecy veil parted, and timidly disclosed charming glimpses
of mighty rivers, mountain-defiles, and rolling plains, sear with
ripened oats, and bathed in the glow of the setting sun. As Father Jose
gazed, he was penetrated with a pious longing. Already his imagination,
filled with enthusiastic conceptions, beheld all that vast expanse
gathered under the mild sway of the Holy Faith, and peopled with zealous
converts. Each little knoll in fancy became crowned with a chapel; from
each dark _canon_ gleamed the white walls of a Mission building. Growing
bolder in