At the corner of the plaza he came face to face with an agitated soldier, who had looked back into the orchard, missed the caballero, and searched frantically and without result. The caballero grinned in the man’s red face, and walked slowly down the slope. “Now from where, in the name of evil, did that man come?” the soldier gasped. But he got no answer then, though he gathered a solution at a later day. The caballero was building up his fire and preparing the evening meal when the soldier joined his companion beside the creek. Two neophytes hurried down the slope and made camp for the men from the presidio, building a fire and stretching a shelter of skins, and giving them food and wine. Darkness came swiftly, and to those at the mission the two fires beside the creek looked like the eyes of a giant beast about to spring on the settlement. The caballero did not attempt a serenade this night. He sat before his fire, wondering what would occur at midnight, when the Indians were to come. The presence of the soldiers complicated matters. He knew that at least one of them was watching him, and that, if he started to move away, one would follow. The hours passed, slowly it seemed to the caballero. One by one the lights in the mission buildings disappeared. The heavy fog obscured the light of the moon and stars. A cold wind crept up the valley, and the caballero wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and sat nearer the fire. CHAPTER VIII A VICTOR RUNS AWAY An hour after sunrise an Indian rode a mule furiously up the valley from the presidio. The beast was covered with lather and dust, and the rider appeared half exhausted. His screeching awoke the sleeping caballero, who went out of the teepee and looked toward the plaza to note the cause of the uproar. Frailes and neophytes crowded around the mule’s rider and questioned eagerly. Señor Lopez came from the storehouse to hear the news, and the caballero could see that his face was illuminated with a smile as he hurried across to the guest house, where he knocked on the door. The door opened and Señora Vallejo appeared, Señorita Anita Fernandez beside her. Words were passed. Señora Vallejo turned and clasped the girl in her arms; the _señorita_ hid her face against the _duenna’s_ shoulder; Señor Lopez laughed loudly, and a passing fray raised arms in blessing. Indian women and children began running about, busy at nothing in particular. Lopez began giving wine to any who asked it. Straw was thrown on the mud near buildings where the sun had not penetrated enough to turn the wet clay to dust. One by one, men walked to the end of the wall and gazed down El Camino Real toward the bay. “One would think San Diego de Alcalá expected a visit from His Excellency the Governor!” the caballero gasped. “Nothing like this transpired when I came off the highway and graced the mission with my presence.”