give him the decision, fearing their own dismissal. Yet they were not
really bad men, those judges, they were upright and conscientious,
good citizens, excellent fathers, dutiful sons--and they were
able to appreciate poor Tales' situation better than Tales himself
could. Many of them were versed in the scientific and historical
basis of property, they knew that the friars by their own statutes
could not own property, but they also knew that to come from far
across the sea with an appointment secured with great difficulty,
to undertake the duties of the position with the best intentions,
and now to lose it because an Indian fancied that justice had to
be done on earth as in heaven--that surely was an idea! They had
their families and greater needs surely than that Indian: one had
a mother to provide for, and what duty is more sacred than that of
caring for a mother? Another had sisters, all of marriageable age;
that other there had many little children who expected their daily
bread and who, like fledglings in a nest, would surely die of hunger
the day he was out of a job; even the very least of them had there,
far away, a wife who would be in distress if the monthly remittance
failed. All these moral and conscientious judges tried everything in
their power in the way of counsel, advising Cabesang Tales to pay
the rent demanded. But Tales, like all simple souls, once he had
seen what was just, went straight toward it. He demanded proofs,
documents, papers, title-deeds, but the friars had none of these,
resting their case on his concessions in the past.

Cabesang Tales' constant reply was: "If every day I give alms to a
beggar to escape annoyance, who will oblige me to continue my gifts
if he abuses my generosity?"

From this stand no one could draw him, nor were there any threats that