Jesusa, who had been sitting on a stool at her father’s feet, slipped to Cana’s side and gently took her hand. “Don’t cry, Cana,” said she. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You knew I would be willing for you to have them.” “Señor Alcalde,” said one of the Council, a tall, dark man with a loud, harsh voice, “justice and public safety demand the punishment of criminals, and I move that this self-convicted thief be fined twenty-five pesos and in default of payment of said fine that she be stripped and publicly flogged, then confined during Christmas week in the Mission jail.” Cano, who, hanging his head in shame, had crouched behind the door, here sprang forward, fell on his knees and grasping Jesusa’s hand, prayed: “Oh! Jesusa, don’t let them strip and flog my sister. I have strong arms and keen eyes. I will work and earn the money to pay for the things Cana, poor little weak lamb, took. For the love of God, for the Holy Virgin’s sake, don’t let them whip her.” Jesusa, kindly pressing his hand, said: “Have no fear,” then throwing her arms round her father’s neck, cried: “_Padre mio, caro padre mio_, you have never refused a request. Don’t let them harm Cana.” “Be quiet, my love”; then turning to the Junta he said firmly (and Don Pedro knew well how and when to assume the air of authority): “I will pay this child’s fine and give her the protection of my home. I also adjourn the _Junta_.” He then summoned the Mexican with whom the children lived and obtained from him the following story: “As has been my custom for some time, I went last year to the Comanche Camp on the Pecos for trading purposes, and while there noticed two white children whose miserable condition excited my pity and caused me to ask the chief who they were and where they came from. Evading my questions at first, he finally told me that he had stolen them while on a horse-raiding expedition to the Brazos; that going through the woods late one evening near a house occupied by apparently well-to-do people, he saw the children gathering pecans, and creeping up to them, seized them, strapped them to the back of his horse and fled, expecting to ransom them for a considerable sum. He sent an agent to make terms with the parents, but the agent, returning, reported that the affair had created such a stir he thought it unadvisable to broach the subject. I proposed a trade, and he agreed to take for them a mule, a bridle and a red blanket. I brought them home, intending to try for the ransom, but I did not know how to go about it.” “Speaking of ransom, for how much could you, _amigo mio_, be induced to relinquish all claims to these children?” asked the Alcalde. “_Señor_, you know me to be a poor man with a family to support, and needing money badly. Otherwise, I would present them to your honor. Would you be willing to offer twenty _pesos?_” “Here are fifty _pesos_. Read and sign this agreement, which, as you will see, transfers to me your right and claim to them.”