his lies fell dead before the grave eyes of the man beneath the tree. At
last he was tossed aside like a squeezed sponge and the Franciscan
beckoned forward, who, being of sturdier make, twisted his thumbs in his
rope girdle and prepared to present a blank countenance to those queries
of armaments and treasure which an enemy to Spain would naturally make.
But the Englishman asked strange questions; so general that they seemed
to encompass the mainland from Tres Puntas to Nombre de Dios, and so
particular that it was even as if he were interested in the friar
himself, his order, and his wanderings from town to town, the sights
that he had seen and the people whom he had known. The questions seemed
harmless as mother's milk, but the friar was shrewd; moreover, in his
youth had been driven to New Spain by flaming zeal for the conversion of
countless souls. That fire had burned low, but by its dying light he
knew that this man, who was young and yet so still, whose lowered voice
was but as sheathed steel, whose eyes it was not comfortable to meet,
had set his hand to a plough that should drive a straight furrow, was
sending his will like an arrow to no uncertain mark. But what was the
mark the Franciscan could not discover, therefore he gave the truth or a
lie where seemed him best, increasingly the truth, as it increasingly
appeared that lies would not serve. He also, seeing that with gathering
years he had begun to set value upon flesh and bone, wished to please
his captor. He glanced stealthily at the scarred and ancient craft in
the windless harborage, idly flapping her mended sails, before he said
aught of the great English ships that in pomp and the fulness of pride
had entered these waters now months agone. The Englishman had heard of
this adventure--so much was evident--but details would seem to have
escaped him. He knew, however, that there had been first victory and
then defeat, and he too looked at his ship and at the guns she carried.

[Illustration: "THE FRIAR PRESENTED A BLANK COUNTENANCE TO SIR