BY ARNELL

LARSEN

DF

The Luiseño Indian youth dived into the water of the swimming pool at Mission San Luis Rey de Francia. Beneath the water his hair waved gently like black seaweed. When he came up for air, breaking the water, the sunlight glistened on his wet, copper-colored skin. His hair was plastered down about his face. "Is the water cold, Esteban?" A voice called out.

Esteban turned his head and stared at another Indian youth of his own age who sat beside the pool and dangled his bare feet in the water. Upon his lap rested a two and a half foot statue of wood that he was busily carving upon a statue of one of the saints.

"Have you not finished carving out poor Saint Francis yet?"

"No I have not and I feel sad about it for tomorrow is the Mission's twentyninth anni-ver-sary and the big fiesta. Father Peyri taught me how to say that big word and it means birthday.

one

12