Noon came; he reached the crest of a hill to see the mission of San Fernando glistening white in the distance. Urging the mule to greater speed, he passed a rancho frequently, but did not stop for refreshment. The mule was trotting with hanging head, negotiating the rough highway with difficulty. As he neared the mission the beast staggered and fell, and a neophyte came running. “The mule is yours if you can save him,” the caballero said. “Remove saddle and bridle and bring them after me. Where is the padre?” “In the storehouse, _señor_.” The caballero hurried away. The padre had witnessed his arrival and was walking slowly toward him. They met beside the wall. “I have immediate need of a good horse, padre,” the caballero said. “I have gold to pay for the beast.” “I can get you one in a short time, _señor_. You are hurrying toward the south?” “On an urgent matter, padre.” “These are turbulent times, I am told. If the sainted Serra were still among the living, to guide us----” “I have not said I am on business of state.” “I beg your pardon, _señor_. I was not attempting to interfere in your personal affairs.” “I have been riding all night,” the caballero went on. “I came from Santa Barbara on a mule and almost killed the beast. Get me a horse, and blessings be upon your head! And food and wine, and a bit of water, would not be amiss.” The padre turned and led the way into the nearest building. He placed food and wine upon a table there, and sent for a horse. A neophyte entered and removed the caballero’s boots and bathed his feet; another placed a stone basin of water on the table, so that the traveller could bathe face and hands. The horse came, was declared fit, and the heavy bridle and saddle put on the animal. The caballero, refreshed, mounted and gathered up the reins. “A bottle of wine and a package of cold mutton, caballero,” the padre said, offering them. “No matter how urgent a man’s business, he must eat and drink to maintain his strength.” “I thank you, padre. I would give you a piece of gold, if I did not know you would refuse it. You have given me much--give me now your blessing and let me go on my way. It is a score of miles to Reina de Los Angeles, I understand, and I would reach that pueblo by nightfall.” The padre gave his blessing, and stepped nearer the horse’s head, seeming to look at the bridle. “On the north side of the plaza at Reina de Los Angeles,” he said, “there is a certain inn where some travellers would be none too safe. As you know, these are turbulent times. On the south side, however, just around the corner from the chapel, is a pretentious house of adobe inhabited by a pious man known as Gonzales. In that house a traveller of the right sort may sleep with reason to believe that his throat will not be slit before he awakens.” “I understand, and thank you.” “You may say that Fray Felipe vouches for you as a gentleman of honesty.”