the arms of a son of Satanás." Esteban threw himself upon his bunk in agony. Once more he pleaded. "Will you not come with me?"

"No!" Arturo replied in a final tone. For he was frightened at the very thought. If only Father Peyri knew of what has happened. That night Arturo twisted and turned upon his bunk, hardly able to sleep.

That morning, early, Esteban left his bunk, slung his saddle over his shoulder and picked up a hand-made bag that contained a few personal belongings and some clothes. He tried not to turn his head, but the temptation was too great. He stole one final glance at the sleeping face of Arturo. Esteban knew that he was not mad with Arturo for not leaving the Mission with him. He knew he was the strongest of the two. For out there in the wilderness, one had to be a strong man and he was a proud Indian.

With the sounds of the sleeping Indians about him, Indians that were usually up at this time but were allowed to sleep late because of yesterday's activities, he opened the squeaking door and stepped out into the coolness of morning. And there he saw Padre Gomez waiting for him.

"You will go that way," he said, pointing toward the distant mountains. "And you will never show yourself upon Mission lands again."

"There is just one question I would like to ask, Father Gomez."

"Yes, what is it?" said in a reproachful voice.

"Does Father Peyri know you are sending me away?"

"No, he does not. Being a companion friar, I, at least have some things to say in regards to the welfare of this Mission. He will be told in due time when he misses you. "Now," he slipped his hands within his sleeves, "in regard to showing you a little bit of decency, I will go into the Mission, trusting to your honor that you will depart from here in haste before you are seen. You may keep the saddle you have won for it has nothing to do with your character. May God have mercy on soul." The Padre turned and walked back into the Mission.

your

Esteban sighed and moved the saddle an inch further down his back. He had not the slightest idea as to what to do next. But he would have to walk and walk a long ways for he knew that the Mission lands extended far and wide.

"Has he gone yet?" A voice asked from behind the door and then Arturo was at his elbow.

"What is it? what are you doing out?" And then he saw the bag in the Indian's hand, similar to the one he carried.

"Give me your bag please," said Arturo, and he was handed the second bag. "Now, here is my hand. I am ready to go with you."

Esteban grinned and all of the moment's sadness seemed to fall away from his body. He grasped Arturo's hand eagerly and squeezed it. Then they walked forward. "Now will not Father Gomez roar when he finds you have gone with me." "Should we not hurry before we are seen?"

They hastened their stride.

Within an hour they were at the top of a high hill and Arturo looked back once, seeing the Mission of San Luis Rey de Francia, gleaming like a white jewel in a green setting, the morning sunlight reflecting off of the belltower. He shivered, then looked away ahead of them.

"Afraid?" Esteban asked.

"I would be lying if I said I was not."

"Do not worry, my little one. I will always take good care of you." The squeeze

of the hand was reassuring.

The exiles journeyed forth.

one

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