CHAPTER IIIMYSTERIESIt was still dark when Gonzales entered the room with a candle and shook the caballero until he was awake. The rider of the highway found that his clothes had been brushed and neatly folded, that his boots had been greased, and that a huge stone basin filled with cool water stood ready.He plunged his head in the water, dried his face, and went to the adjoining room after dressing, there to find a table heaped high with food. The caballero ate ravenously, scarcely speaking. An Indian entered and spoke to Gonzales in whispers.“Your horse is ready,señor,” Gonzales said. “It is a fit animal, able to cover many miles during a day. I have no wish to bereft myself of your companionship by sending you on your way, yet perhaps it would suit your purpose best to be well on the road to San Juan Capistrano by daybreak.”“Your idea is an excellent one,señor.”“There is nothing more I can do to serve you?”“You have been kindness itself.”“There is, perhaps, some message?”“Nothing of prime importance at this time,señor. I am eager to reach San Diego de Alcalá at the earliest possible moment.”“If you need an Indian——”“The highway stretches plainly before one,señor, and an Indian would but delay me.”“I understand that these are turbulent times——”“So the good Fray Felipe said at San Fernando. No doubt it is a true word.”“You mystify me,señor, in a measure. Yet a man should not speculate regarding that which does not concern him.”“Very true, Señor Gonzales. I might mention that another traveller may journey along El Camino Real at an early day, as soon as he can procure a horse at Santa Barbara, where I left him behind. I doubt whether he will receive cordial welcome from Fray Felipe—as you say, the good padre is an excellent judge of men. It would not desolate me much if this person were delayed now and then.”“Ah! His name?”“He travels incognito with a pass signed by his excellency, I believe.”“Then—?” There was a puzzled expression on Gonzales’ face.“I travel in such manner myself.”“Still, I do not see——”“It is not for me to criticise his excellency, yet I may say that on a busy day he might issue a pass by mistake, or without having proper investigation.”“Can you not speak to me as man to man,señor?”“I regret that I have no information that may be given you. And I must be on my way. Here is a piece of gold——”“Not from you,señor.”“Perhaps you are making a mistake. Perhaps you think me a man I am not. I have given you no reason to believe——”“If I made a mistake,señor, then Fray Felipe of San Fernando makes one also, and I have learned to trust his judgment.”“Then I thank you for your hospitality and kindness,” the caballero replied.Gonzales led the way out of the house to where the horse was waiting beside the adobe wall. He held a stirrup while the caballero mounted.“You know the way?” he asked.“Until this journey, I never have been south of Monterey,” the rider answered.“Once you are away from the pueblo the highway is plainly to be seen. I have had my own horse made ready and will accompany you for a short distance.”“I thank you again,señor.”The Indian led out the second horse. Gonzales mounted, and they started out across the plaza, to follow a tiny trail that ran from one side of it between two rows of Indian huts. No word was spoken until they were a mile from the pueblo. Daybreak showed the dusty highway stretching toward the south, twisting like a great serpent across the land.“Here I leave you,” Gonzales said. “I wish you good fortune,señor, and am yours to command if there are things you wish done. If the times are indeed turbulent, as has been intimated, perhaps my old tradeof pirate will stand me in good stead.Adios, caballero! My blessings go with you!”“Having been blessed by both padre and pirate, I can scarcely go wrong,” the caballero replied.He raised his hand in salute, whirled his horse, touched the animal with his spurs and galloped toward the south, sending up great clouds of dust behind him. Gonzales watched him for several minutes, then, shaking his head in perplexity, turned and started back toward Reina de Los Angeles.Now that he was on the highway again, the caballero became alert, watching the trail whenever he topped a hill, hand on pistol-butt where brush edged the road and made an ambush possible.Sixty miles to the south was San Juan Capistrano, and the caballero did not spare his horse. During the morning he saw few men, either red or white. In the distance, at times, he could see the white buildings of some rancho, and grazing herds, and frequently a small orchard.Then, as he neared the mission, he came upon scenes of activity, oxen-drawn carts loaded with grain, carreta, squads of Indians working on the highway as punishment for some trivial offence.The miles flew beneath his horse’s hoofs, and in time he could see the mission building glistening in the sun, throngs of neophytes at work, scores of children playing about the walls. The children scattered at his approach, to stand, half in fear and half in curiosity, some distance away and regard him thoughtfully. He dismounted stiffly, but no man gave him greeting.Leading his horse he walked to the door of the nearest storehouse. A fray came out and faced him.“I am journeying to San Diego de Alcalá, and have need of a fresh mount,” the caballero said. “I will trade or purchase.”“I have no horse for you,señor.”“Nonsense! San Juan Capistrano is well known for its breed. At Santa Barbara they told me you were to send them steeds within the month, in exchange for fruit and wine.”“We sell and give horses to whom we will,señor, and withhold them from others.”“What is the meaning of that?” the caballero demanded. His face had flushed with sudden anger, for he did not like the fray’s tone or manner. “I have a pass here signed by His Excellency the Governor. You will scarcely refuse to accommodate me now, I take it.”The fray read the pass and handed it back.“It passes my understanding that you possess such a paper,” he said. “Yet, on the other hand, it is not a matter to excite wonder. It is understood that the Governor is not particular to whom he issues passes.”“I shall take it upon myself to see you punished for your insolence, fray! A man who wears a gown should know more of courtesy.”“There is no horse here for you,señor. I have spoken.”“You are not the only horse owner in San Juan Capistrano!”“No man here will sell you one, nor give it you, nor make an exchange.”“And why is that?”“Need you question?”“Most certainly I question. This is the first discourtesy I have found along El Camino Real. Even the soldiers at the Santa Barbara presidio aided me on my way, gave me food and wine. The good fray at San Fernando recommended me to a friend in Reina de Los Angeles. And here, it appears, one cannot even buy a horse with gold. I await your explanation, fray.”“I have no explanation to give you,señor, nor do I recognise your right to one. If the frailes to the north have been misled, I have nothing to say. We of the south, however, have scant courtesy for men of a certain stamp.”“Now by the good saints——!”“The good saints are better off your lips,señor!” cried the fray angrily.Neophytes had been crowding about, drawn by the quarrel. The caballero whirled upon them, to find some grinning. His hand dropped to his sword-hilt.“The road stretches toward the south,señor,” the fray resumed. “And we are crowded here in San Juan Capistrano.”“You are ordering me away, perhaps?”“I am leaving it to your good judgment to go.”“I am not a man to be trifled with, fray. This discourtesy is like to cost you dear!”“I pay my debts,señor. If it costs me, I pay.”“You refuse to respect the Governor’s pass?”“I refuse to recognise your right to have it,” the fray replied. He turned about and started inside thestorehouse. The caballero took a quick step forward and clutched the other by the shoulder and whirled him around.“Cloth or no cloth, no man treats me like this!” he exclaimed. “A horse—immediately!”The fray uttered an exclamation; the neophytes crowded closer. Releasing his man, the caballero drew his sword and turned upon them.“Back, dogs!” he cried. “I do not like your stench! And you, fray, fetch me a horse, before I run you through!”“You——!” The fray seemed to grow taller in his sudden anger. “You dare to threaten me,señor? A man of your stripe——”“I have had enough of this mystery!”“Out of my sight! Take your way to the south, or the north if it pleases you, but quit San Juan Capistrano this minute! Else I will not be responsible——”“For what! For what may happen to me?” The caballero laughed aloud, half in anger, half in jest. His sword described an arc. But the neophytes did not fall back from before him; the fray made a sign and they closed in.His back against the wall of the storehouse, the caballero swept his blade through the air again, and held his pistol in his left hand. The Indians hesitated a moment, the caballero advanced.“Back!” the caballero cried.Again they closed in, rushed. A screech of pain came from the first he touched with the blade. His pistol spoke and a man fell wounded. In that instant,as they hesitated, he was among them, his blade darting here and there. Purposely he avoided clashing with the fray, always keeping neophytes between them, for to wound a fray, he knew, would be to make bloodthirsty wretches of the red men. Foot by foot he fought his way to where the horse was standing with lowered head.He drove back those nearest, then sprang to the saddle and dashed away. The guitar had been fastened to the saddle, and now it snapped its cord and fell to the ground. Laughing loudly, the caballero turned his horse, galloped back among the neophytes, scattering them right and left, swung down from his saddle and caught up the instrument, waved it above his head in derision, and was away again.A pistol spoke behind him, a bullet whistled past his head, but he rode unscathed. A mile away he stopped the horse to wipe the bloody blade on his cloak and return it to its scabbard.“A courteous reception indeed!” he muttered, and gave his horse the spurs.A journey of twenty-five miles stretched before him to the next mission in the chain, San Luis Rey de Francia. He did not urge his mount to its utmost, for he did not want to exhaust the beast, and he knew better time would be made travelling a level gait.Here the highway ran along the sea, and for a time the caballero allowed his horse to walk knee-deep in the tumbling water. Anger still flushed his face; his eyes still were blazing. With a fresh horse procured at San Juan Capistrano he would have been able to reach SanLuis Rey de Francia long before nightfall; whereas, because of his reception at the last mission, he would reach it after dark, if at all, for the hills were near, and common report had it that even daylight riding there was perilous enough for a gentleman unattended.He drove his horse up the slope and to the highway proper again and looked ahead. A dust cloud was in the distance, and in time he made out a herd of cattle being driven along the road. He saw, as he neared them, that there were two Indian herders, and stopped to recharge his pistol. They might prove to be harmless neophytes; they might be thieving gentiles running off mission cattle, and ready to give battle to a traveller.He stood his horse at one side of the highway as they passed, alert for trouble. They were talking, he could see, and pointing at him, but he could not hear their words. Long after they had gone by, the two Indians turned frequently to look in his direction.The caballero rode on, with some speed now, since it was growing late in the afternoon. Overhanging crags, jumbles of rock, clumps of scrawny trees cast shadows across the highway and furnished cover for bandits, but he met with no adventure. Through the twilight he galloped, stopping before each hidden curve to listen, straining his eyes to discern the presence of a foe.Night came, and in the distance he saw lights at San Luis Rey de Francia.“Let us hope there are men of brains to be found here,” the caballero muttered. “I must have food,drink, rest. It does not matter so much about a horse now, since my own will be refreshed by morning.”Now there were huts beside the highway, but all in them seemed sleeping. Dogs howled as he approached. Ahead of him, a door was thrown open, and a streak of light pierced the darkness. He rode toward it.An Indian stood there holding a crude torch above his head, an aged Indian with scraggy hair and wrinkled face.“I want food, rest,” the caballero said. “Where sleeps a fray that will awaken easily?”The Indian stared at him in astonishment.“You seek a fray?” he asked.“Else I would not ask the whereabouts of one.”“It is a bold thing to do,señor. It would be better, would it not, to accept the hospitality of my poor hut, and be sure you are with friends? Scant welcome will you get from a fray. Enter,señor, and honour my poor dwelling. I have food and wine, and a couch. I will see that your horse has attention, and all night I’ll watch, and before the dawn comes I’ll awaken you and send you on your way.”“This thing passes my understanding, yet I am weary enough to accept the quickest relief,” the caballero said. “If you attempt treachery——”“Then may I die,señor.”“That probably would come to pass in such event.”He dismounted and began taking off the saddle. The Indian ran to help him and got a halter for use instead of the bridle. The horse was picketed besidethe road and thrown hay and grain. Then the Indian led the way into the hut.It was of adobe, small, round. A table was built into one wall, a bunk into another. While the caballero sat on the bunk to rest, his host put out cold meat and wine and dried wheat-paste. The guest ate, and not sparingly, and then removed his boots and threw himself down on the couch.“I will sit outside and watch the door,señor,” the Indian said. “You may sleep without fear.”“But with a pistol ready at my hand,” the caballero growled.After the Indian had gone, he arose and extinguished the torch, and listened for a moment at the door, until he was sure his host was squatting there. It was troubled sleep he had, for the surroundings were peculiar, and he did not fully trust his host.A step beside the couch caused him to awaken and spring to his feet, pistol held ready.“Within an hour,señor, it will be dawn,” he heard the voice of the old Indian say. “I have more wine and food ready, and water fresh from the spring. It is better that you are gone before others awake, then none will know of your passing.”The caballero ate again, and followed his host outside, carrying saddle and bridle. When the horse was ready, he mounted, then tossed the native a coin.“No,señor—not from you, if you please,” the Indian said. “It has been a pleasure——”“White man and red—both give me hospitality and refuse payment,” remarked the caballero. “At timesI think myself the most fortunate of men, at other times the most unlucky. One fray aids me and another refuses to sell me a horse. It is a peculiar world!”“Theseñorwill not forget me—that is all I ask,” the Indian muttered.“Be assured I will not!Adios!”“’Dios!”The caballero trotted his steed for a mile, then broke into a gallop. Forty miles more, and he would be at San Diego de Alcalá, his journey’s end. He laughed aloud as the dawn came and showed him the sea sparkling in the distance. His spirits had revived wonderfully.“Poor self-styled Juan who once owned a mule!” he murmured. “He loses a couple of pieces of gold, I take it, since it is not to be believed that he has reached the goal before me. I wonder what would have happened if I had gone to the inn on the plaza at Reina de Los Angeles?”He was in the hills again now, yet the highway was seldom masked, and he felt secure in the knowledge that a foe could not approach without being seen. The miles flew beneath his horse’s hoofs. A cool breeze came in from the sea and neutralised the heat of the sun. In the distance he could see a broad valley, and he knew that the end of his journey was near.Another ten miles, and then, stopping his horse on the crest of a hill, he saw San Diego de Alcalá before him. Near the shore of the bay was the presidio, topping a knoll. Six miles up the valley wasthe mission proper, and near it an orchard surrounded by a wall, and fields of green.“’Tis a bit of paradise in the wilderness!” the caballero said aloud. “And there is an angel in it, I have heard.”He chuckled and urged the horse on. Purposely he avoided the presidio for the time being and made his way toward the mission. Only a few neophytes were to be seen, and even they disappeared as he approached.The mission buildings formed three sides of a square; the fourth side was an adobe wall nearly ten feet high. Through a space between two of the buildings the caballero rode his horse. Not a human being was to be seen in the plaza.“This is mighty peculiar,” the caballero muttered.He dismounted and let the horse stand in the shade of the wall. Every door was closed, even those of the padres’ quarters, the hospital, the guest house.“Awake, good people!” he cried. “Is it the fashion here to take a siesta in the cool of the day?”The door of the padres’ quarters did not open; no big-eyed Indian child ran out to stare at him, finger in mouth, half curious and half afraid; no man or woman appeared from a hut.He slapped the dust from his clothes and started across the plaza toward the padres’ quarters, determined to pound on the big door until it was opened and the lethargy of the place explained.Around the end of the wall there came a neophyte stooping beneath a bag of grain.“Good day,señor!” said the caballero. “I am glad to find someone alive.”The Indian stared at him, hesitated a moment, then walked on without speaking.The door of the storehouse opened, and another man walked into the plaza, one who carried a quarter of beef on his shoulder. He followed a narrow path that ran toward one of the huts, so that he had to pass within a dozen feet of the caballero.“Perhaps here is a man with brains,” the new-comer thought. Aloud, he said: “Señor, it is a brilliant day!”The man who carried the beef did not slacken his pace, but he glanced at the caballero from beneath shaggy brows, and passed without making a reply. Behind him in the narrow path stood one astonished and angry.“It is a settlement of imbeciles and deaf mutes, this San Diego de Alcalá!” he growled.Now there was a burst of laughter from the end of the wall, and into view came an Indian girl of perhaps fourteen, her black hair streaming down her back, her feet and legs bare, her arms filled with wild blossoms. Behind her was a youth a few years her senior. When they saw the caballero they stopped quickly, and the youth said something to the girl, then they ceased their laughter and hurried along the path.“Señor! Señorita!” said the caballero, removing his sombrero and bowing to the ground.The youth growled something beneath his breath and hurried on without responding to the greeting; the girl tilted her nose and she would not meet the caballero’seyes. And so they passed him and continued across the plaza toward the padres’ quarters, not once looking back.“Mute fools!” the caballero growled, his face flushed because of his embarrassment.
It was still dark when Gonzales entered the room with a candle and shook the caballero until he was awake. The rider of the highway found that his clothes had been brushed and neatly folded, that his boots had been greased, and that a huge stone basin filled with cool water stood ready.
He plunged his head in the water, dried his face, and went to the adjoining room after dressing, there to find a table heaped high with food. The caballero ate ravenously, scarcely speaking. An Indian entered and spoke to Gonzales in whispers.
“Your horse is ready,señor,” Gonzales said. “It is a fit animal, able to cover many miles during a day. I have no wish to bereft myself of your companionship by sending you on your way, yet perhaps it would suit your purpose best to be well on the road to San Juan Capistrano by daybreak.”
“Your idea is an excellent one,señor.”
“There is nothing more I can do to serve you?”
“You have been kindness itself.”
“There is, perhaps, some message?”
“Nothing of prime importance at this time,señor. I am eager to reach San Diego de Alcalá at the earliest possible moment.”
“If you need an Indian——”
“The highway stretches plainly before one,señor, and an Indian would but delay me.”
“I understand that these are turbulent times——”
“So the good Fray Felipe said at San Fernando. No doubt it is a true word.”
“You mystify me,señor, in a measure. Yet a man should not speculate regarding that which does not concern him.”
“Very true, Señor Gonzales. I might mention that another traveller may journey along El Camino Real at an early day, as soon as he can procure a horse at Santa Barbara, where I left him behind. I doubt whether he will receive cordial welcome from Fray Felipe—as you say, the good padre is an excellent judge of men. It would not desolate me much if this person were delayed now and then.”
“Ah! His name?”
“He travels incognito with a pass signed by his excellency, I believe.”
“Then—?” There was a puzzled expression on Gonzales’ face.
“I travel in such manner myself.”
“Still, I do not see——”
“It is not for me to criticise his excellency, yet I may say that on a busy day he might issue a pass by mistake, or without having proper investigation.”
“Can you not speak to me as man to man,señor?”
“I regret that I have no information that may be given you. And I must be on my way. Here is a piece of gold——”
“Not from you,señor.”
“Perhaps you are making a mistake. Perhaps you think me a man I am not. I have given you no reason to believe——”
“If I made a mistake,señor, then Fray Felipe of San Fernando makes one also, and I have learned to trust his judgment.”
“Then I thank you for your hospitality and kindness,” the caballero replied.
Gonzales led the way out of the house to where the horse was waiting beside the adobe wall. He held a stirrup while the caballero mounted.
“You know the way?” he asked.
“Until this journey, I never have been south of Monterey,” the rider answered.
“Once you are away from the pueblo the highway is plainly to be seen. I have had my own horse made ready and will accompany you for a short distance.”
“I thank you again,señor.”
The Indian led out the second horse. Gonzales mounted, and they started out across the plaza, to follow a tiny trail that ran from one side of it between two rows of Indian huts. No word was spoken until they were a mile from the pueblo. Daybreak showed the dusty highway stretching toward the south, twisting like a great serpent across the land.
“Here I leave you,” Gonzales said. “I wish you good fortune,señor, and am yours to command if there are things you wish done. If the times are indeed turbulent, as has been intimated, perhaps my old tradeof pirate will stand me in good stead.Adios, caballero! My blessings go with you!”
“Having been blessed by both padre and pirate, I can scarcely go wrong,” the caballero replied.
He raised his hand in salute, whirled his horse, touched the animal with his spurs and galloped toward the south, sending up great clouds of dust behind him. Gonzales watched him for several minutes, then, shaking his head in perplexity, turned and started back toward Reina de Los Angeles.
Now that he was on the highway again, the caballero became alert, watching the trail whenever he topped a hill, hand on pistol-butt where brush edged the road and made an ambush possible.
Sixty miles to the south was San Juan Capistrano, and the caballero did not spare his horse. During the morning he saw few men, either red or white. In the distance, at times, he could see the white buildings of some rancho, and grazing herds, and frequently a small orchard.
Then, as he neared the mission, he came upon scenes of activity, oxen-drawn carts loaded with grain, carreta, squads of Indians working on the highway as punishment for some trivial offence.
The miles flew beneath his horse’s hoofs, and in time he could see the mission building glistening in the sun, throngs of neophytes at work, scores of children playing about the walls. The children scattered at his approach, to stand, half in fear and half in curiosity, some distance away and regard him thoughtfully. He dismounted stiffly, but no man gave him greeting.Leading his horse he walked to the door of the nearest storehouse. A fray came out and faced him.
“I am journeying to San Diego de Alcalá, and have need of a fresh mount,” the caballero said. “I will trade or purchase.”
“I have no horse for you,señor.”
“Nonsense! San Juan Capistrano is well known for its breed. At Santa Barbara they told me you were to send them steeds within the month, in exchange for fruit and wine.”
“We sell and give horses to whom we will,señor, and withhold them from others.”
“What is the meaning of that?” the caballero demanded. His face had flushed with sudden anger, for he did not like the fray’s tone or manner. “I have a pass here signed by His Excellency the Governor. You will scarcely refuse to accommodate me now, I take it.”
The fray read the pass and handed it back.
“It passes my understanding that you possess such a paper,” he said. “Yet, on the other hand, it is not a matter to excite wonder. It is understood that the Governor is not particular to whom he issues passes.”
“I shall take it upon myself to see you punished for your insolence, fray! A man who wears a gown should know more of courtesy.”
“There is no horse here for you,señor. I have spoken.”
“You are not the only horse owner in San Juan Capistrano!”
“No man here will sell you one, nor give it you, nor make an exchange.”
“And why is that?”
“Need you question?”
“Most certainly I question. This is the first discourtesy I have found along El Camino Real. Even the soldiers at the Santa Barbara presidio aided me on my way, gave me food and wine. The good fray at San Fernando recommended me to a friend in Reina de Los Angeles. And here, it appears, one cannot even buy a horse with gold. I await your explanation, fray.”
“I have no explanation to give you,señor, nor do I recognise your right to one. If the frailes to the north have been misled, I have nothing to say. We of the south, however, have scant courtesy for men of a certain stamp.”
“Now by the good saints——!”
“The good saints are better off your lips,señor!” cried the fray angrily.
Neophytes had been crowding about, drawn by the quarrel. The caballero whirled upon them, to find some grinning. His hand dropped to his sword-hilt.
“The road stretches toward the south,señor,” the fray resumed. “And we are crowded here in San Juan Capistrano.”
“You are ordering me away, perhaps?”
“I am leaving it to your good judgment to go.”
“I am not a man to be trifled with, fray. This discourtesy is like to cost you dear!”
“I pay my debts,señor. If it costs me, I pay.”
“You refuse to respect the Governor’s pass?”
“I refuse to recognise your right to have it,” the fray replied. He turned about and started inside thestorehouse. The caballero took a quick step forward and clutched the other by the shoulder and whirled him around.
“Cloth or no cloth, no man treats me like this!” he exclaimed. “A horse—immediately!”
The fray uttered an exclamation; the neophytes crowded closer. Releasing his man, the caballero drew his sword and turned upon them.
“Back, dogs!” he cried. “I do not like your stench! And you, fray, fetch me a horse, before I run you through!”
“You——!” The fray seemed to grow taller in his sudden anger. “You dare to threaten me,señor? A man of your stripe——”
“I have had enough of this mystery!”
“Out of my sight! Take your way to the south, or the north if it pleases you, but quit San Juan Capistrano this minute! Else I will not be responsible——”
“For what! For what may happen to me?” The caballero laughed aloud, half in anger, half in jest. His sword described an arc. But the neophytes did not fall back from before him; the fray made a sign and they closed in.
His back against the wall of the storehouse, the caballero swept his blade through the air again, and held his pistol in his left hand. The Indians hesitated a moment, the caballero advanced.
“Back!” the caballero cried.
Again they closed in, rushed. A screech of pain came from the first he touched with the blade. His pistol spoke and a man fell wounded. In that instant,as they hesitated, he was among them, his blade darting here and there. Purposely he avoided clashing with the fray, always keeping neophytes between them, for to wound a fray, he knew, would be to make bloodthirsty wretches of the red men. Foot by foot he fought his way to where the horse was standing with lowered head.
He drove back those nearest, then sprang to the saddle and dashed away. The guitar had been fastened to the saddle, and now it snapped its cord and fell to the ground. Laughing loudly, the caballero turned his horse, galloped back among the neophytes, scattering them right and left, swung down from his saddle and caught up the instrument, waved it above his head in derision, and was away again.
A pistol spoke behind him, a bullet whistled past his head, but he rode unscathed. A mile away he stopped the horse to wipe the bloody blade on his cloak and return it to its scabbard.
“A courteous reception indeed!” he muttered, and gave his horse the spurs.
A journey of twenty-five miles stretched before him to the next mission in the chain, San Luis Rey de Francia. He did not urge his mount to its utmost, for he did not want to exhaust the beast, and he knew better time would be made travelling a level gait.
Here the highway ran along the sea, and for a time the caballero allowed his horse to walk knee-deep in the tumbling water. Anger still flushed his face; his eyes still were blazing. With a fresh horse procured at San Juan Capistrano he would have been able to reach SanLuis Rey de Francia long before nightfall; whereas, because of his reception at the last mission, he would reach it after dark, if at all, for the hills were near, and common report had it that even daylight riding there was perilous enough for a gentleman unattended.
He drove his horse up the slope and to the highway proper again and looked ahead. A dust cloud was in the distance, and in time he made out a herd of cattle being driven along the road. He saw, as he neared them, that there were two Indian herders, and stopped to recharge his pistol. They might prove to be harmless neophytes; they might be thieving gentiles running off mission cattle, and ready to give battle to a traveller.
He stood his horse at one side of the highway as they passed, alert for trouble. They were talking, he could see, and pointing at him, but he could not hear their words. Long after they had gone by, the two Indians turned frequently to look in his direction.
The caballero rode on, with some speed now, since it was growing late in the afternoon. Overhanging crags, jumbles of rock, clumps of scrawny trees cast shadows across the highway and furnished cover for bandits, but he met with no adventure. Through the twilight he galloped, stopping before each hidden curve to listen, straining his eyes to discern the presence of a foe.
Night came, and in the distance he saw lights at San Luis Rey de Francia.
“Let us hope there are men of brains to be found here,” the caballero muttered. “I must have food,drink, rest. It does not matter so much about a horse now, since my own will be refreshed by morning.”
Now there were huts beside the highway, but all in them seemed sleeping. Dogs howled as he approached. Ahead of him, a door was thrown open, and a streak of light pierced the darkness. He rode toward it.
An Indian stood there holding a crude torch above his head, an aged Indian with scraggy hair and wrinkled face.
“I want food, rest,” the caballero said. “Where sleeps a fray that will awaken easily?”
The Indian stared at him in astonishment.
“You seek a fray?” he asked.
“Else I would not ask the whereabouts of one.”
“It is a bold thing to do,señor. It would be better, would it not, to accept the hospitality of my poor hut, and be sure you are with friends? Scant welcome will you get from a fray. Enter,señor, and honour my poor dwelling. I have food and wine, and a couch. I will see that your horse has attention, and all night I’ll watch, and before the dawn comes I’ll awaken you and send you on your way.”
“This thing passes my understanding, yet I am weary enough to accept the quickest relief,” the caballero said. “If you attempt treachery——”
“Then may I die,señor.”
“That probably would come to pass in such event.”
He dismounted and began taking off the saddle. The Indian ran to help him and got a halter for use instead of the bridle. The horse was picketed besidethe road and thrown hay and grain. Then the Indian led the way into the hut.
It was of adobe, small, round. A table was built into one wall, a bunk into another. While the caballero sat on the bunk to rest, his host put out cold meat and wine and dried wheat-paste. The guest ate, and not sparingly, and then removed his boots and threw himself down on the couch.
“I will sit outside and watch the door,señor,” the Indian said. “You may sleep without fear.”
“But with a pistol ready at my hand,” the caballero growled.
After the Indian had gone, he arose and extinguished the torch, and listened for a moment at the door, until he was sure his host was squatting there. It was troubled sleep he had, for the surroundings were peculiar, and he did not fully trust his host.
A step beside the couch caused him to awaken and spring to his feet, pistol held ready.
“Within an hour,señor, it will be dawn,” he heard the voice of the old Indian say. “I have more wine and food ready, and water fresh from the spring. It is better that you are gone before others awake, then none will know of your passing.”
The caballero ate again, and followed his host outside, carrying saddle and bridle. When the horse was ready, he mounted, then tossed the native a coin.
“No,señor—not from you, if you please,” the Indian said. “It has been a pleasure——”
“White man and red—both give me hospitality and refuse payment,” remarked the caballero. “At timesI think myself the most fortunate of men, at other times the most unlucky. One fray aids me and another refuses to sell me a horse. It is a peculiar world!”
“Theseñorwill not forget me—that is all I ask,” the Indian muttered.
“Be assured I will not!Adios!”
“’Dios!”
The caballero trotted his steed for a mile, then broke into a gallop. Forty miles more, and he would be at San Diego de Alcalá, his journey’s end. He laughed aloud as the dawn came and showed him the sea sparkling in the distance. His spirits had revived wonderfully.
“Poor self-styled Juan who once owned a mule!” he murmured. “He loses a couple of pieces of gold, I take it, since it is not to be believed that he has reached the goal before me. I wonder what would have happened if I had gone to the inn on the plaza at Reina de Los Angeles?”
He was in the hills again now, yet the highway was seldom masked, and he felt secure in the knowledge that a foe could not approach without being seen. The miles flew beneath his horse’s hoofs. A cool breeze came in from the sea and neutralised the heat of the sun. In the distance he could see a broad valley, and he knew that the end of his journey was near.
Another ten miles, and then, stopping his horse on the crest of a hill, he saw San Diego de Alcalá before him. Near the shore of the bay was the presidio, topping a knoll. Six miles up the valley wasthe mission proper, and near it an orchard surrounded by a wall, and fields of green.
“’Tis a bit of paradise in the wilderness!” the caballero said aloud. “And there is an angel in it, I have heard.”
He chuckled and urged the horse on. Purposely he avoided the presidio for the time being and made his way toward the mission. Only a few neophytes were to be seen, and even they disappeared as he approached.
The mission buildings formed three sides of a square; the fourth side was an adobe wall nearly ten feet high. Through a space between two of the buildings the caballero rode his horse. Not a human being was to be seen in the plaza.
“This is mighty peculiar,” the caballero muttered.
He dismounted and let the horse stand in the shade of the wall. Every door was closed, even those of the padres’ quarters, the hospital, the guest house.
“Awake, good people!” he cried. “Is it the fashion here to take a siesta in the cool of the day?”
The door of the padres’ quarters did not open; no big-eyed Indian child ran out to stare at him, finger in mouth, half curious and half afraid; no man or woman appeared from a hut.
He slapped the dust from his clothes and started across the plaza toward the padres’ quarters, determined to pound on the big door until it was opened and the lethargy of the place explained.
Around the end of the wall there came a neophyte stooping beneath a bag of grain.
“Good day,señor!” said the caballero. “I am glad to find someone alive.”
The Indian stared at him, hesitated a moment, then walked on without speaking.
The door of the storehouse opened, and another man walked into the plaza, one who carried a quarter of beef on his shoulder. He followed a narrow path that ran toward one of the huts, so that he had to pass within a dozen feet of the caballero.
“Perhaps here is a man with brains,” the new-comer thought. Aloud, he said: “Señor, it is a brilliant day!”
The man who carried the beef did not slacken his pace, but he glanced at the caballero from beneath shaggy brows, and passed without making a reply. Behind him in the narrow path stood one astonished and angry.
“It is a settlement of imbeciles and deaf mutes, this San Diego de Alcalá!” he growled.
Now there was a burst of laughter from the end of the wall, and into view came an Indian girl of perhaps fourteen, her black hair streaming down her back, her feet and legs bare, her arms filled with wild blossoms. Behind her was a youth a few years her senior. When they saw the caballero they stopped quickly, and the youth said something to the girl, then they ceased their laughter and hurried along the path.
“Señor! Señorita!” said the caballero, removing his sombrero and bowing to the ground.
The youth growled something beneath his breath and hurried on without responding to the greeting; the girl tilted her nose and she would not meet the caballero’seyes. And so they passed him and continued across the plaza toward the padres’ quarters, not once looking back.
“Mute fools!” the caballero growled, his face flushed because of his embarrassment.