A sigh came from the priest. Then all was still. He seemed to sink lower into his couch. Even Juan Antonio thought that now life was gone. Instincts of forgotten generations stirred the old man's heart. He began to intone the death praises of the friar, as, for untold years, had his forbears done for the great ones of their tribe. "The mighty heart is still. The strong hand bends not the bow. The ready feet run not. The king elk walks boldly in the open. The timid deer fears not the arrow, because the chief man of his people hunts no more." The refrain of the death-wail overflowed the houses of the Mission, ran along olive orchard and vineyard, reached the sentinels watching on the hills. The church bell, in sorrowing tone, sounded its toll of death. One and thirty did it strike, the total of the years the friar had lived. At the last stroke the padre's eyelids flickered gently. The pallor of his cheeks decreased. Breathing, almost imperceptible, began. Finally, he opened his eyes, and saw the weeping, gesticulating men and women. "Silence!" he said feebly. "What see I here?" Again, in stronger accent, "What see I here?" Yet again, "What see I here!" In this third utterance the churchman spoke as might a king in presence of his subjects. The wailing ceased. He raised himself on elbow and pointed to the door. "This cell is within the precinct of sacred cloister. Go, women, one and all! Get ye gone from this holy place!" The women fell away from the bed and seemed to melt through the door, the men following them. Soon Juan Antonio stood alone with the padre. "What have you done?" demanded the friar, sternly. Perspiration again was on his forehead, while the returning fever gave color to the face and strength to the body. "O, Padre Lusciano, I feared you were dying. All my thoughts were for nothing but to save you, and I called for help, come whence it might." "Juan Antonio, around this cell, though poor and humble, has Holy Church drawn her solemn circle of isolation. Let no woman enter herein, even to save my life. If I die, then so I must. Did I pronounce the curse on the luckless daughter of Eve and her male abettors in this sacrilege, no one, save the vicar of Christ in Rome, could banish it. See, Juan Antonio, what vast evil thy thoughtless hand might wreak." "O, padre," wept the Indian, "I thought thy life was struggling to free itself of body, and my heart became water within me, for I love thee." "Very well. Very well. But, Juan Antonio, in the future think with thy head, not with love or fear." Señor Mendoza appeared in the open door. "Reverend Padre Osuna, will you pardon my coming unannounced? Each day since you returned have my servants made inquiry, but found you too ill to receive a visitor." "Enter, Señor Mendoza. Please seat yourself."