A door on the opposite corridor opened and a youth came forth. He jerked his head diffidently at the guests and took the longest way round instead of crossing the court; but when he reached the boys, who were risen and awaiting him, he wore a dignified air of welcome, as befitted a young gentleman of his race.
"Welcome to Casa Carillo, senores," he said gravely. "The house is yours. Burn it if you will. I, myself, Rafael Carillo, am your slave."
To which Roldan replied: "We are at your feet, for you and yours have rescued us from death and given us food and clothing when we most needed it. Our lives are yours to do with as you wish."
"Then would we keep you here always, Don Roldan and Don Adan. All guests are welcome at Casa Carillo, but doubly those that need it."
Then, formalities over, as boys are pretty much alike the world round, Rafael was soon pouring forth eager questions, and our heroes were reliving the events of the past weeks. Arm in arm they strolled out into the wide beautiful valley, green with sprouting winter, the distant mountains of terrible memory quivering under a dark blue mist.
"Hist!" said Rafael, suddenly. "Do you know what day this is?"
"Day?" The adventurers had lost all count of time.
"It is the day before Christmas, my friends."
"No! Madre de dios!" Roldan and Adan stood still. For a moment they felt homesick. They saw the reproachful faces of their parents and brothers and sisters, to say nothing of visions of unclaimed presents. But Rafael gave them no time for regrets. He was the only child at home, and delighted with his new companions.
"To-morrow many people will come," he said. "I have ten married sisters and brothers. They all come from their ranchos, and many more. It will be very gay, my friends."
"Good," said Roldan, dismissing regret. "We will enjoy."
"And after Christmas is gone I know of something else," said Rafael, mysteriously. He glanced about. They stood in the midst of a great vineyard, each engaged upon a large purple bunch. "Come," said Rafael, with an air of mystery. "Not here. Some one may hide beneath the vines."
It was extremely unlikely, but the adventurers liked the suggestion and followed their host breathlessly into the open field. "One day in the summer," whispered Rafael, his eyes rolling about, "I went with four vaqueros with a present of venison to Father Osuna. He was not at the Mission, and a brother told us that he walked among the hills. I thought I would go to meet him and receive his blessing. For a time I saw no one, and I thought, 'Caramba! but the padre has long legs this hot weather!' Just then he stood before me. He had walked out of the side of the hill through a hole no wider than himself. He sweated like a bull after coliar, and his cassock was gathered in his two hands, leaving his bare shanks no more sacred than an Indian's. He did not look like a priest at all, and I forgot to kneel to him, but stared with my mouth open. And what do you think he did, my friends? He turned white like the hand of a dona in her teens and--and--dropped his cassock. And--"
"Well? well?"
"What do you think rolled to the ground, my friends? Chunks of yellow stuff that glittered, and a shower of sparkling yellow sand--beautiful as sunshine on the floor. I gave a cry and ran to pick it up. I had never seen anything so beautiful, I never had wanted anything so much. I felt that I would die for it in that moment, my friends. But that priest, what do you think he did? He gave a yell of rage, as if he could tear me in pieces, and flung himself all over that sunshine of earth.
'My gold!' he cried. 'Mine! mine! You shall not take it from me.' 'If it is yours it is not mine, my father,' I said, feeling ashamed,--though I still wanted it; 'I will help you to pick it up.' He got up then, his face very red again, and I could see that he was trying to put on his dignity as fast as he had put down his cassock--he looked better with both in place. 'My son,' he said,'the day is warm and I am very tired, and, I fear, a little ill. These rocks are nothing. They please my eye, and I pick them up sometimes as I walk among the hills. Leave them there. I do not want them. We will return to the Mission.' 'If you do not want them, then may I have them?' I asked--the blood flew all over my body, my friends. He scowled as if I had asked him for the candles on the altar. 'No,' he said, 'you cannot.' Then he put his big hand on my shoulder--he could twist your neck in a minute with those hands--
'Listen to me, my son,' he said, very soft, and looking so kind now, you can't think. 'There is poison in those stones, pretty as they are, deadly poison. It has murdered millions of souls and hundreds of bodies.
Therefore I will not let you touch it--only a priest can touch it without ruining his soul. Therefore I forbid you---forbid you--' he shouted this over me, 'to tell any one of what you have seen to-day.
Neither your father nor your mother--no one. Do you understand?' I said 'Yes,' but I did not promise, and he was excited and did not notice.
Then he dragged me away, and I looked about for other rocks that glittered. But there were none--not anywhere. And then I knew that they had come out of the hill; but I said nothing, and when we got back to the Mission and had had dinner and he was himself again and would have spoken alone with me, I ran and got on my horse, and all the brothers stood on the corridor to see me go. He came up to me and blessed me, and whispered: 'Tell no one, my son. If you do'--and he gave me a look that made my hair crackle at the roots. And to this day I have told no one.
Did I tell my parents the priest would know in six hours. No boy has stayed here that I like. But now--"
"We will go to the hill and see for ourselves," said Roldan, promptly, and Adan gasped with horror and delight.
"Ay, I knew you would. I am brave, but I dared not go myself--that padre is too big. I wake up in the night and see his hands pawing in the air.
But three of us--we need fear no one."
