s. They were nearly always well-treated,
and, in fact, were usually tractable, and even more than satisfied with
their lot; but now and then they would be roused by some of the fiercer
spirits among them to struggle against this slavery. At such times, the
injury they could, and did, inflict on the missions was great, but they
had always been subdued and forced back to their state of servitude. Yet
the fathers had ever with them this condition of anxiety, rendered all
the greater as the military force in the country was very small, and
usually unavailable at the moment when needed, owing to the distance
between their barracks and the larger number of the missions.

Not quite three miles from Mission San Gabriel, toward the mountains in
the north, stood a little adobe house, the home of a young Mexican,
one of the men belonging to the mission, with his wife and one year old
child. Diego Borja, this was the man's name, had been connected with the
mission ever since he was a boy, serving in various occupations, first,
as altar boy, then as occasion required, as messenger and servant to
the Father, carpenter, for he was a skilled artisan, and overseer of
the planting and gathering of the crops. He had even been trusted by the
Father with commercial negotiations with merchants at San Pedro and Los
Angeles, selling to them hides, which were a valuable source of wealth
to the mission, and wine, famous for its fine quality. He was, in
fact, a general utility man, on whom, on account of his reliability and
versatile qualities, the Father depended greatly. Father Zalvidea, the
senior priest at San Gabriel, had reason to congratulate himself on
having Diego at his command, for not often is such an one found among
the poorer and laboring class of Mexicans, combining the power and
ability to serve in manifold ways, with a love of work for its own sake
as well as for the reward it brings--very different from the general
slowness and laziness of this class.

Two years before this little tale opens, Diego had become attached to a
young girl living at the mission. Juana was an orphan, and had come to
Nueva California from the same institution in Mexico which, many years
before, had sent "La Beata," well known and loved by every one in
the country. Juana had none of the characteristics of the celebrated
Apolinaria, excepting only her piety, for she was a simple young
woman, doing what was given her to do with a devout, unquestioning
tha