"Señora Bolio," he said, with great unction, "my admiration! My admiration, my homage, my reverence! My veneration, my stupefaction, my awe! My——" "Oh, drat thy gibberings!" interrupted the señora, with irritation. "Be done with thy bobbing, and come hither. Thou ’rt the very man I wished to see." "Heaven forfend!" murmured Pedro. "Hast yet more wind?" She eyed him sternly, then her features gradually relaxed. "Not for thee, my chicken pie. But hearken, Pedro. I have news. This girl—dost know it?—is a Christian." Pedro stared. "No!" he exclaimed. "And ’t is the Ñusta Rava?" "’T is she, and she a Christian, Pedro, as I live! And she calleth for Father Tendilla." "For Father Tendilla! Then stew me, she shall have him! I’ll fetch him." "Fetch him, Pedro. Go at once." And taking him by the shoulder, the señora turned him toward the entrance of the court. "Make haste, and, _Adiós_." Pedro went a few paces, and halted; reflected a moment, and returned. As the señora looked back he nodded toward Rogelio’s dcor, and approaching it, rapped vigorously. There was silence, and he pounded again. "Be off!" came a piping voice, not entirely steady. Pedro pushed open the door, and heard a scurrying within. "Be off, woman! I’m armed. Enter at thy peril!" trebled the voice. Pedro thrust in his head. The _veedor_ was intrenched behind his table, bathed in perspiration. "Oh, thy pardon, _Veedor_! I thought thou didst bid me enter," said Pedro, and closed the door with a grin. "Hold, good Pedro! Wait! Tarry a moment, I pray thee, my dear friend," called the _veedor_, but Pedro was gone. As he left the court the door opened, and Rogelio protruded his head, calling again; espied the señora across the court, and retired abruptly. *CHAPTER XXIV* _*Pedro Seeks Tidings of Cristoval*_ Pedro cantered into town and dismounted in front of the great, heavily walled, low-roofed edifice that had been the Temple of the Sun,—the Temple of the Sun for centuries, but now surmounted by a cross, the interior shorn of its symbols of pagan worship and its splendor, and consecrated to the Holy Faith. Beside the gray old building was the ancient palace of the priestly attendants, now sheltering the good Father Tendilla and his assistants in the pious work of saving heathen souls. The gentle-mannered old priest was shocked at Pedro’s revelation of the _veedor’s_ iniquity, and made instant preparations. "Good Father," said the cook, as he held the stirrup for Tendilla to mount, "if you can learn aught of Cristoval——" "I will, my son. Come to-night," and the priest rode away.