"Well, I swanny!" from the disgusted serving-man. "Held by a pack o' niggers! I never could stand much of that sort o' thing myself from sech critters." Directly they were away from danger, with the life of Monterey flowing smoothly around them. CHAPTER IX SEÑORA VALENTINO SEEKS TO INTEREST PADRE OSUNA The courtyard of Señor Mendoza's hacienda house was glorious in light. Patterns of Oriental network were reflected from lanterns clustered along the eaves, strung on improvised archways, or undulating from the lofty flagpole. Genial spring rejoiced everywhere, no less in rare exotic floating in miniature lakes than in the countless blooming flower species that were at home in this Eden-land. The soft air breathed content as it moved in low voice around giant palm and high-branching walnut. As the evening waxed the zephyr became a whisper, then sank to sleep on the fairy scene with a sigh as faint as the rustle of a leaf. The courtyard gate lay open wide. Many of the fairest and of the bravest in California were to pass within after the day had ceased, to fare forth against the rebirth of another sun. Mendoza's welcome to the late-coming rains took the form of pleasure-making for the gentry of the countryside. Neither thought, nor labor, nor expense had been spared that this might be a festal night long remembered in Alta California. The lord of the manor sat in his private library. "A visitor, Señor Mendoza," announced a peon. "It is who?" "The Padre Lusciano Osuna." "Show him here. No--wait. I'll attend him from the front myself." A moment later the señor was at the padre's side. "Welcome, reverend sir. This house is happy that your feet press its threshold." Mendoza bowed in Castilian grace, then extended his hand to the priest, who accepted it in courteous grasp. "And you are well, Padre?" "Good health blesses me, Señor Mendoza. How makes it with you?" "Well. Very well, indeed. Come with me, Señor Padre." "I thank you." "Padre Osuna," as they sat together shortly after, "it pleases me that opportunity comes to thank you for sending your major-domo, Juan Antonio, that night the storm broke, to trace my daughter and her dueña. I have sought you each day since, only to find you were still in Santa Cruz. A father's heart thanks you, sir." "A pastor's solicitude for one of his flock deserves not thanks, Señor Mendoza." "May I ask, reverend sir, why you brought so strong a fighting force to meet us that night? Juan Antonio told me it was your order, but held his counsel further."