f the same mysterious flood penetrated like mighty
rivers the cavernous distance. As they walked by the banks of this
glittering Styx, Father Jose perceived how the liquid stream at certain
places became solid. The ground was strewn with glittering flakes. One
of these the Padre picked up and curiously examined. It was virgin gold.

An expression of discomfiture overcast the good Father's face at this
discovery; but there was trace neither of malice nor satisfaction in the
stranger's air, which was still of serious and fateful contemplation.
When Father Jose recovered his equanimity, he said, bitterly,--

"This, then, Sir Devil, is your work! This is your deceitful lure for
the weak souls of sinful nations! So would you replace the Christian
grace of holy Spain!"

"This is what must be," returned the stranger, gloomily. "But listen,
Sir Priest. It lies with you to avert the issue for a time. Leave me
here in peace. Go back to Castile, and take with you your bells, your
images, and your missions. Continue here, and you only precipitate
results. Stay! promise me you will do this, and you shall not lack that
which will render your old age an ornament and blessing"; and the
stranger motioned significantly to the lake.

It was here, the legend discreetly relates, that the Devil showed--as he
always shows sooner or later--his cloven hoof. The worthy Padre, sorely
perplexed by his threefold vision, and, if the truth must be told, a
little nettled at this wresting away of the glory of holy Spanish
discovery, had shown some hesitation. But the unlucky bribe of the Enemy
of Souls touched his Castilian spirit. Starting back in deep disgust, he
brandished his crucifix in the face of the unmasked Fiend, and, in a
voice that made the dusky vault resound, cried,--

"Avaunt thee, Sathanas! Diabolus, I defy thee! What! wouldst thou bribe
me,--me, a brother of the Sacred Society of the Holy Jesus, Licentiate
of Cordova and Inquisitor of Guadalaxara? Thinkest thou to buy me with
thy sordid treasure? Avaunt!"

What might have been the issue of this rupture, and how complete might
have been the triumph of the Holy Father over the Arch-Fiend, who was
recoiling aghast at these sacred titles and the flourishing symbol, we
can never know, for at that moment the crucifix slipped through his
fingers.

Scarcely had it touched the ground before Devil and Holy Father
simultaneously cast themselves toward it. In the struggle they clenched,
an