“This is mighty peculiar,” the caballero muttered. He dismounted and let the horse stand in the shade of the wall. Every door was closed, even those of the padres’ quarters, the hospital, the guest house. “Awake, good people!” he cried. “Is it the fashion here to take a siesta in the cool of the day?” The door of the padres’ quarters did not open; no big-eyed Indian child ran out to stare at him, finger in mouth, half curious and half afraid; no man or woman appeared from a hut. He slapped the dust from his clothes and started across the plaza toward the padres’ quarters, determined to pound on the big door until it was opened and the lethargy of the place explained. Around the end of the wall there came a neophyte stooping beneath a bag of grain. “Good day, _señor_!” said the caballero. “I am glad to find someone alive.” The Indian stared at him, hesitated a moment, then walked on without speaking. The door of the storehouse opened, and another man walked into the plaza, one who carried a quarter of beef on his shoulder. He followed a narrow path that ran toward one of the huts, so that he had to pass within a dozen feet of the caballero. “Perhaps here is a man with brains,” the new-comer thought. Aloud, he said: “_Señor_, it is a brilliant day!” The man who carried the beef did not slacken his pace, but he glanced at the caballero from beneath shaggy brows, and passed without making a reply. Behind him in the narrow path stood one astonished and angry. “It is a settlement of imbeciles and deaf mutes, this San Diego de Alcalá!” he growled. Now there was a burst of laughter from the end of the wall, and into view came an Indian girl of perhaps fourteen, her black hair streaming down her back, her feet and legs bare, her arms filled with wild blossoms. Behind her was a youth a few years her senior. When they saw the caballero they stopped quickly, and the youth said something to the girl, then they ceased their laughter and hurried along the path. “_Señor! Señorita!_” said the caballero, removing his sombrero and bowing to the ground. The youth growled something beneath his breath and hurried on without responding to the greeting; the girl tilted her nose and she would not meet the caballero’s eyes. And so they passed him and continued across the plaza toward the padres’ quarters, not once looking back. “Mute fools!” the caballero growled, his face flushed because of his embarrassment. CHAPTER IV A COYOTE HOWLS Adjoining the quarters of the padres was a long adobe building used as a storehouse, and sounds indicated that a man was at work inside. It was towards the storehouse that the caballero now hurried, something of anger in his manner, his face still flushed, his dark eyes snapping and his chin thrust out in aggressive fashion. Seeing a face peering at him from one of the windows, he gave it scant attention, but lifted the latch, and the door of the storehouse flew open at his touch.