day.

"Thank you, Father--" Rex began.

"Josef," the holy man said.

"Yes, thank you, Father Josef. We are just looking at things. No wish to
be rude, you know."

Rex lifted his cap and stood bareheaded in the priestly presence.

Father Josef smiled.

"Look here, then."

He led us up the aisle to where, cuddled down on a crude seat, a little
girl lay asleep. Her golden hair fell like a cloud about her face,
flowing over the edge of the seat almost to the floor. Her cheeks were
pink and warm, and her dimpled white hands were clasped together. I had
caught Mat Nivers napping many a time, but never in my life had I seen
anything half so sweet as this sleeping girl in the beauty of her
innocence. And I knew at a glance that this was the same girl whom I had
seen before at the door of the old Church of San Miguel.

"Same as grown-ups when the sermon is dull. Thank you, Father Josef.
It's a pretty picture. We must be goin' now." Rex Krane dropped some
silver in the priest's hand and we left the church.

At the door we passed the Indian boy again, and a third time he gave no
sign of seeing us. I was the only one who was troubled, however, for Rex