The monk drew from beneath his robe a little box of amber, with hinges and rims of gold, and with much reverence and solemnity of manner showed it to the soldier. “A holy relic?” inquired the latter, with bowed head and voice decorously lowered, as in the presence of majesty. “A tooth of the blessed St. Joseph, whose festival we celebrate to-day,” said Fray Fernando reverently. A pause followed this solemn and impressive announcement. Then the monk opened the little box, and displayed the relic to the admiring gaze of Don Ramon. “It is of most undoubted authenticity, and of very powerful virtue,” he said. “And the motive which could induce me to part with it must needs be a strong one. I have kept it for many years—indeed, since my early childhood. It was given me by—” But here he broke off hastily, leaving his sentence incomplete. His eyes turned from the little amber box to the eager face of the Indian boy, who was watching them with an evident suspicion that their conversation concerned himself. “Such a thing as that would do a man no harm in a fight or a shipwreck?” said Don Ramon. And the assertion, as he put it, was indisputable. “It will do you good and not harm wherever you are; in the field or in the house, in the land or on the sea,” returned Fray Fernando. “Always supposing”—common sense and candour obliged him to add—“that you are not engaged in any business of which the holy saint would disapprove.” “I intend to pay more regard to these considerations in future,” said Don Ramon. “Well then, holy father, since such is your pleasure, take the boy, and I take the relic. Perhaps you would have no objection to throw me a mass or two into the bargain? Ours is a wild life—though we do good service to holy Church in fighting the infidels. And as we take care of her interests, it may not be too much to hope that she will look to ours.” Fray Fernando satisfied him on the subject of the masses; and as Pepe, who acted the part of acolyte, had by this time begun to ring the bell, he led the little Indian boy to his own cell, where he took the precaution of shutting him up, having first supplied him with food. After mass, Don Ramon and his companions partook of a liberal breakfast, and then resumed their journey. Just before his departure, however, the soldier of fortune drew the monk aside. “Here,” he said with the air of one conferring no inconsiderable favour—“here is a golden ornament which belonged to the mother of that child. I may as well give it you; perhaps it may serve hereafter to identify him. At all events, you will favour me by accepting it as an acknowledgment of your valuable spiritual ministrations. I took it, with my own hands, from her mantle, when I found her lying dead the morning after we made her and the boy our prisoners.”