Privately I think we are wasting our energies. We will leave California several beautiful monuments for posterity to wonder at, but as for the Indians we will end where we began. They are always escaping and running back to the mountains. Their every instinct is for barbarism; they have not one for civilization, nor can any be planted whose roots will not trail over the surface. The good Lord intended them to be savages, nothing more; and it is mistaken sentimentalism--However, it is not for me to criticise, and I beg, Don Roldan, that you will not repeat what I have said."
"Of course I shall not; but tell me, do you think there is danger?"
"We have one rather bright young Indian--there are about a dozen exceptions in all California, and they are treacherous. His name is Anastacio, and he has great influence with the other Indians. A good many of them are angry at present because they have been punished for stealing grapes and stores, and just now they are rather excited because it has been proposed to banish Anastacio to a Mission where there are more soldiers,--he is regarded as the inciter of the outrages."
"Have you soldiers here?"
"Eleven. The guard house is in the left hand corner of the square. But what could they do in an uprising? We must get rid of Anastacio. I will go now and speak to Padre Flores."
Roldan went out into the square and strolled over to the soldiers' quarters. The door was closed, but light streamed from an uncovered window, and he had a good view of the guard room. A half dozen soldiers were lying about on benches, half-dressed, smoking the eternal cigarrito. Two were at a table writing. None looked alert, but as Roldan passed out of the plaza to the open beyond, he encountered a sentinel who was ready to gossip with the young don and told him that three more were on duty on the several sides of the square.
Roldan strolled on to the rancheria, a collection of six or eight hundred huts of mud and straw among a thicket of willows by the creek.
Here all was dark and quiet. He glanced through several of the uncurtained windows and saw whole families peacefully asleep. Suddenly he paused and held his breath, at the same time retreating into the heavy shade of a willow. A number of doors had opened almost simultaneously; there was the sharp crunch of dry brush, and dark figures glided, with the snake-like motion peculiar to the Indian, toward the upper end of the rancheria.
Roldan waited a moment, then followed softly. He had set himself the duty of saving the Mission which had shown him hospitality, and was not to be deterred. Moreover, the spirit of adventure was by no means quenched.
In a few moments he paused opposite a large hut, from which issued a subdued murmur. The window had been covered, but a thin ray of light pierced through a crack in the door, and to this Roldan applied his eye.
The room was crowded with Indians standing respectfully about a man in the middle of the room, whom Roldan knew instinctively to be Anastacio.
He was big and clean-limbed and sinewy, with small cunning eyes, a resolute mouth and chin, and an air of perfect fearlessness. Roldan warmed to him, and looked with admiration and envy at the muscles on his splendid limbs.
He was speaking rapidly in the native patois, and Roldan could gather little of his meaning beyond what his gestures conveyed. He shook his fist in the direction of the Mission, snapped his fingers in scorn, pointed toward the mountains, then made the motion of speeding an arrow from the bow, at the same time contracting his face hideously.
Roldan stayed as long as he dared, then returned hastily to the Mission.
A friar was locking up for the night, and began to chide the young guest for being out so late, but Roldan interrupted him impatiently.
"Can I see Padre Flores to-night?" he asked. "I must see him. It is important."
"He has retired to his cell, but I will take your message; and he never denies himself to those that need him."
He went to the end of the corridor and tapped at a door. In a few moments he returned.
"Padre Flores will see you," he said.
The priest was standing by the little altar in the corner of his cell when Roldan entered.
"What is it, my son?" he asked. "Have you learned anything new? Padre Estenega has told me of your suspicions."
Roldan rapidly related what he had seen. The priest's face became grave and anxious.
"There is trouble brewing, I fear," he said. Then he smiled suddenly.
"You ran away to avoid fighting. It would be odd if you found yourself in the midst of it."
"I did not run away to avoid fighting," said Roldan, flushing hotly.
"Pardon, father; I meant that you have misunderstood. I do not choose to be shut up in a barrack against my will, but I am ready to fight; and, although I am not yet sixteen, you shall see that I can help you protect your Mission. And Adan too."
"I am sure of it. I did but tease you. And your part shall begin to- night. You are rested, no?"
"I feel as if I wanted no more sleep for a week."
"Very well. Tell brother Antonio--whom you met on the corridor just now --to let you in the church by the side door and give you the key, with which you will lock yourself in. Then go up into the belfry and watch.
It is the full of the moon and clear. If you merely see a dozen or more figures gliding about the rancheria, that will mean that they are plotting, and intend no action to-night. If you see several hundred, run down and bring me word. But if you see a mass of men rise at once and descend upon the west gate, ring the bells. I shall go and warn the soldiers, and every priest and brother will sleep on his pistol to- night. But I don't think they are organised as yet. Before dawn I shall send a messenger to the nearest town for reinforcements. Go, my son. You are a brave and clever lad."
