"Fingers play tricks when the mind is elsewhere! Well-a-day! Why has one a mind but to direct the fingers and the feet? If Pedro Carrasca's mind ever rests on thee, when it should be on cattle-driving, behold! his pony will throw him over its head into the dry oats." A general laugh followed from the Indian women and girls. It was the Mission's busy season. The harvest had been abundant. Though late in coming the rains had been plentiful, and at proper intervals, so that the yield in wheat, barley, oats, and corn was scarcely below a good average. Padre Osuna had sent a vessel laden with cereals to Lower California, where bread grains were scanty and good-priced. A schooner chartered at Yerba Buena had many thousand bushels of seed-wheat on board, ready to sail to the settlements in Oregon, when a reliable supercargo was found who knew enough English to deal with the Americanos in the North. The great matanza of the year had just been held. A half dozen trading ships were in San Francisco Bay, buying the Mission hides and tallow. Sovereignties might change, flags come and go, but trade went on forever. The Mission's needs for the year were supplied from the "Boston" ships, in return for the commodities of the Mission. In New England a demand had sprung up for the varicolored blankets made from California wool by the Indians. Nowhere were blankets more skillfully or more durably made than at Mission San José. Accordingly, a large order had come from an Eastern supply house; and the Mission Indian women and girls worked longer hours than usual at the wooden frames. These had been set up out of doors near the lodgment of the unmarried women. Pepita's eyes sparkled as the others laughed. "Pedro Carrasca is no concern of mine." "Well, maybe not," returned Marta, her black eyes twinkling in her lean face. "When the padre inspects the blanket under your hand, if he sees poor work he will scarcely sanction your betrothal to Pedro, one of the best lads in the valley, as well as a vaquero of vaqueros; and Pepita," patronizingly, "you can do good work when you try." "There are other vaqueros besides Pedro Carrasca." "Right you are, Pepita. Felix Ubaldo is a better rider than Pedro. Pedro's shoulders are not always straight in the saddle," said Florida Pardo. "No such thing," defended Pepita. "When the broncho bucks, Felix goes up and down like the jumping-jacks the little boys get for Christmas." "Come, come, children, work, work. Talk less," from the matrona. Pepita stamped her foot. "Work, work all the time. Why was I not born a señorita, with people to serve me, instead of having to work every day like an ox drawing a carreta full of stones?" "Saints in heaven!" from Marta. "A crow isn't born a songster, because crows have a use as well as singing birds. Pepita, thou art a blackamoor; still, thou may become a peona of the Señorita Mendoza. Modesta, her serving maid, marries soon Tomaso, peon captain."