hole mission system was, by just
so much, a failure.

Pomponio was returning to his hut late that day after telling his
followers to hold themselves in readiness for marching on to the mission
on the nightfall of the morrow. He had nearly reached his habitation,
and was walking slowly and with downcast head, buried deep in thought
over the approaching conflict which he had wished for so long. Pomponio
saw clearly that the task before him and his band was a difficult one.
He was not blind to the fact that, even should they succeed at this
mission, there would be left in the land twenty others, each one
of which would give aid in quelling a revolt at San Francisco, and
punishing the insurgents. But Pomponio was in a desperate mood. He
preferred failure and death to his life at the mission, and he knew
his present life as a fugitive could not last; he would certainly be
captured sooner or later.

He walked slowly on. Had not he been so absorbed in thought of the
crisis of his life, on the brink of which he stood, the indications of
something unusual and foreboding would have arrested his attention.
A rustling among the leaves and brush of the undergrowth told of the
presence of some animated thing, human or brute. Once a gleam, as
of some highly burnished metal flashing in the sun, was to be
detected--that surely was no animal! But Pomponio walked on oblivious
to these signs which, at any other time, he would have been the first
to notice. He was within a few yards of the hut, and on the edge of the
clearing, when he heard a crackling among the branches underfoot, and
a rushing toward him. One glance was enough. Three soldiers, armed with
muskets, were upon him, one on each side, the third in front. They
were close to him before he was aware of their presence, and escape was
impossible, for he was seized and his arms bound behind him almost as
soon as he knew he was captured.

"Aha! we have you at last," cried the leader. "You thought we could not
find you out here, hiding in the forest. And I must say it has been hard
enough and taken long enough. But we have you safe now, you rascal."

Pomponio said not a word. From the first, so soon as he saw he was
helpless, he submitted quietly, and suffered the soldiers to bind his
arms with the leather thong they had brought with them. Had his Indian
followers been within sound of his voice, he would have shouted to
them to come, not to rescue him--that could not have been done