lus. I will commune with myself awhile under the pear
trees."

Glad to escape so easily, the young acolyte disappeared down the alley
of fig trees, not without a furtive look at the patches of chickweed
around their roots, the possible ambuscade of creeping or saltant
vermin. The good priest heaved a sigh and glanced round the darkening
prospect. The sun had already disappeared over the mountain wall that
lay between him and the sea, rimmed with a faint white line of outlying
fog. A cool zephyr fanned his cheek; it was the dying breath of the
_vientos generales_ beyond the wall. As Father Pedro's eyes were raised
to this barrier, which seemed to shut out the boisterous world beyond,
he fancied he noticed for the first time a slight breach in the
parapet, over which an advanced banner of the fog was fluttering. Was
it an omen? His speculations were cut short by a voice at his very
side.

He turned quickly and beheld one of those "heathens" against whom he
had just warned his young acolyte; one of that straggling band of
adventurers whom the recent gold discoveries had scattered along the
coast. Luckily the fertile alluvium of these valleys, lying parallel
with the sea, offered no "indications" to attract the gold-seekers.
Nevertheless, to Father Pedro even the infrequent contact with the
Americanos was objectionable: they were at once inquisitive and
careless; they asked questions with the sharp perspicacity of
controversy; they received his grave replies with the frank
indifference of utter worldliness. Powerful enough to have been
tyrannical oppressors, they were singularly tolerant and gentle,
contenting themselves with a playful, good-natured irreverence, which
tormented the good father more than opposition. They were felt to be
dangerous and subversive.

The Americano, however, who stood before him did not offensively
suggest these national qualities. A man of middle height, strongly
built, bronzed and slightly gray from the vicissitudes of years and
exposure, he had an air of practical seriousness that commended itself
to Father Pedro. To his religious mind it suggested self-consciousness;
expressed in the dialect of the stranger, it only meant "business."

"I'm rather glad I found you out here alone," began the latter; "it
saves time. I haven't got to take my turn with the rest, in there,"--he
indicated the church with his thumb,--"and you haven't got to make an
appointment. You have got a clear forty minutes