A man came out to the church door. Youth was on face and figure, but care and illness lined his features and bowed the shoulders that showed broad even under his friar's robe. In movements as graceful as a feather's dip he pointed to the Indians, then to their homes scattered over valley and hill. In another gesture he motioned to the neophytes to be on their way. They looked stolidly at one another, then back to the padre who remained standing with his arm outstretched. Savagery flamed anew in their faces. With the growl of an angry beast about to rend its prey they rushed up the steps. The friar, motionless, still stood before them, still pointing to their houses. The mob charged on. They were but a pace distant when, as one man, they paused, held in check by the unswerving calm of the churchman. Back from him, step by step, they went till the ground was reached. Again they paused and looked up at the friar, indecision written on their faces. The padre did not move. With a single impulse they turned homeward and silently filed along the road, in obedience to Padre Osuna's unspoken command. Soon the friar and Juan Antonio were alone. They walked down to a courtyard gate not unlike Señor Mendoza's, and disappeared within. Mendoza and his friends had witnessed the drama to its close. A rumbling sounded in the distance which soon resolved itself into the measured tramp of horses, so many that their coming shook the ground. The riders, in uniform, with lance in hand and carbine slung over shoulder, pushed their mounts foaming at mouth and flank to the courtyard gate. "The cavalry from San José!" cried Mendoza. "What brings them in such haste?" An officer sprang from his horse. The Administrator opened his window. "Captain Morando!" The Captain saluted. "Why this force, Señor Captain?" "Message was hurried to me that your Indians, frenzied by pagan rites, were about to make an attack. I gathered my men, together with such volunteers as the pueblo afforded, and hot-foot came to the rescue. I see, instead, the Indians going quietly to their homes. What does it mean?" "Come within, Señor Captain." In a moment Morando stood with the others. The señor told him of the coming of the padre and his dispersal of the Indians. Señorita Carmelita entered the room, bowing to her father, then to the others. "O, papacito, my Indian maids who ran away last week, in their madness, are back all sane and cool. They ask your forgiveness and a new lease of service." "You alone have to do with them, my child." The Captain was standing at attention. Red lightly tinged the girl's cheek as she saw him. She again bowed, and went out, with "I thank you, papacito." The Indian maidens were heard on the outside loudly wailing their thanks to the señorita, as was the way of children of the wild when penitent. "Señors, we need----" "Rain," interrupted the quiet Higuera.