"Simití has two churches, you know, Padre," remarked Rosendo during the evening meal. "There is another old one near the eastern edge of town. If you wish, we can visit it while there is yet light." Josè expressed his pleasure; and a few minutes later the two men, with Carmen dancing along happily beside them, were climbing the shaly eminence upon the summit of which stood the second church. On the way they passed the town cemetery. "The Spanish cemetery never grows," commented Josè, stopping at the crumbling gateway and peering in. The place of sepulture was the epitome of utter desolation. A tumbled brick wall surrounded it, and there were a few broken brick vaults, in some of which whitening bones were visible. In a far corner was a heap of human bones and bits of decayed coffins. "Their rent fell due, Padre," said Rosendo with a little laugh, indicating the bones. "The Church rents this ground to the people--it is consecrated, you know. And if the payments are not made, why, the bones come up and are thrown over there." "Humph!" grunted Josè. "Worse than heathenish!" "But you see, Padre, the Church is only concerned with souls. And it is better to pay the money to get souls out of purgatory than to rent a bit of ground for the body, is it not?" Josè wisely vouchsafed no answer. "Come, Padre," continued Rosendo. "I would not want to have to spend the night here. For, you know, if a man spends a night in a cemetery an evil spirit settles upon him--is it not so?" Josè still kept silence before the old man's inbred superstition. A few minutes later they stood before the old church. It was in the Spanish mission style, but smaller than the one in the central _plaza_.