“That part of it may be true. Each of the hounds has a score of brothers. ’Tis the man’s great anxiety to greet this brother of his that arouses my curiosity. Seldom does an Indian betray such family devotion. With seditious messages going and coming up and down the highway----” “But our orders are merely to be watchful of all strangers,” the corporal put in. “Strangers! How long has it been since a genuine stranger of any quality drifted along El Camino Real? Answer me that! Strangers, eh? Watch the padres and the neophytes, say I! There is little love lost between the presidio and the chapel! At the same time----” The sergeant stopped speaking, for the Indian had come into the room again, carrying a jug of wine. His head was bent forward on his breast, and he walked like a man suffering pain. There was silence as he filled the drinking cups; he stood to one side as the soldiers drank. Again he made the round of the table and filled the cups, then put the jug down and hurried out. “If the man’s brother comes, it will be well to investigate him before he reaches the chapel and has a talk with the padre,” continued the sergeant. “A curse on this land of sun and dust and flies! ’Tis a dog’s life--’tis an old man’s life, worse! There was a time when neophytes joined with gentiles and gave us fight. Those were the good days--half a score of us, perhaps, against a hundred of the red wretches!” “If rumour proves true, those good days may come again soon,” the corporal remarked. “Glad would I be to welcome them! A man’s blade grows rusty and his sword-arm heavy with fat. Who can put heart in shooting when it is only to shoot at a mark? I am half minded to keep to myself anything I may discover. Let them form their conspiracy, say I! It will give soldiers good work to do!” He put his empty cup on the table and walked across the room; the others sank back on their stools again. Sergeant Cassara stood in the open doorway looking toward the mission and watching a flock of sheep, just down from their grazing-place in the hills. The heat waves danced before his half-closed eyes. Corporal and soldiers began nodding again over their cups. Then Cassara turned and glanced toward the north. Far down the highway was a swirl of dust. Cassara shaded his eyes with his cupped hands and gazed in that direction. The soldiers heard him utter an exclamation, saw him straighten suddenly and express interest. “By the good Saint Barbara!” he exclaimed. “A stranger comes at last!” Corporal and soldiers dropped their wine cups and hurried across the room. They looked where their sergeant pointed. Down El Camino Real, kicking up great clouds of red dust, came a man. No fray or neophyte, this, nor a native runner on business connected with the missions! Here was a gay caballero clad in zarape and sombrero, who staggered as he walked and carried a burden on his back.