"I know, Arturo. I have been counting the days and tomorrow you will see me do some fancy riding in la carrera del gallo, and I will do just as well in this cock chase as the vaqueros do." Esteban swam closer to the edge of the pool. "Arturo, I did not know you made Saint Francis naked?"

Arturo hung his head for a second in bashfulness. "I patterned him after your own body." He looked up. "But do not worry for he will not stay unclothed for very long. Angelique is sewing the brown habit for him to wear and the tiny sandals. Then when he is dressed, he will be the most beautiful saint ever to stand in our church. Do you not think..." When he saw that Esteban had submerged beneath the water again, he spoke his thoughts aloud. "Let him swim all day if he wants to, but I have work to do." He heard the voices of the choir practicing for tomorrow's services. The sound drifted out to him from the opened doorway of the church. The Indian's nimble fingers quickly cut in and chipped away the wood until it resembled a fringe of hair on the saint's head. When he had nearly finished, he felt something tickle his foot and he quickly pulled it out of the water.

Esteban's head broke the surface then and he laughed out in his husky voice. "You", said Arturo, "stop trying to be a fish", and he pushed his foot hard against the top of Esteban's head trying to force him under water. But the Indian would not be ducked. He grasped Arturo's ankle in his strong hands and pulled hard. No, Esteban! My statue! I will have my clothes on!" Luckily the brushed the statue and his knife onto the ground before he was dragged protestingly into the

water.

Down under the water they went, Arturo clutched tightly in Esteban's embrace. Four small boys ran to the pool's side, attracted by the noise and the splashing. Unmindful of the curious stares the two came above the surface. Esteban splashed the water with one hand and clutched Arturo about the neck with his other arm. "Do not fight me so, my little one."

"I am not your little one and I am dressed. You have only a skin on.

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"Hush-hush." Esteban brought his face closer to Arturo's. "They will dry soon when we get out. I will even mix the colorings for your statue and with my help we will have Saint Francis all done and ready to stand in the church tomorrow. Do not worry so." And what he started to do next was interrupted by the screaming laughter of the children watching.

The church of San Luis Rey de Francia seemed a holy, inspiring and most wonderful place that morning. The heavenly sounding voices of the Indians in the choir balcony, rose and fell in beautiful strains of the hymns the Padres had taught them. Flowers seemed to fill the church in every corner and along the adobe walls.

The delicate scents of the flowers and the flickering of the many candles made Arturo almost dizzy. 'Could anything in life be ever as beauty-filled as this again?'

His eyes searched eagerly past the altar railing for his statue. When he spied it, his heart was filled with happines. It was standing between the figures of two other saints-Saint Luis King of France and Saint Ferdinand King of Spain. Surrounding them were stems of flowers, each stem covered with many delicate pink blossoms.

"Esteban, there, see my statue?" he whispered to the Indian sitting next to him. "Shh-shh," said Esteban. "They are starting the service."