Despite the warm food and his returning strength Ned felt the desperate
need of shelter. It was growing colder, too. Even as he stood there the
fine rain turned to fine snow. It melted as it fell, but when it struck
him about the neck and face it had an uncommonly penetrating power and
the chill seemed to go into the bone. He must have shelter. He looked at
the dark walls of the cathedral and then at the light in the slender
lantern far up above the dome. What more truly a shelter than a church!
It had been a sanctuary in the dark ages, and he might use it now as
such.

He left the trees and stood for a little while by a stone, one of the
124 which formerly enclosed an atrium. Still seeing nothing and hearing
nothing but the whistle of the wind which drove the cold drops of snow
under his collar he advanced boldly again, sprang over the iron railing,
and came to the walls of the old church, where he stood a moment.

Ned knew that in great Catholic cathedrals, like the one of Mexico,
there were always side doors or little wickets used by priests or other
high officials of the church, and he was hoping to find one that he
could open. He passed half way around the building, feeling cautiously
along the cold stone. Once he saw a watchman with sombrero, heavy cloak
and lantern. He pressed into a niche, and the watchman went on his
automatic way, little thinking that anyone was near.

The boy continued his circuit and presently he found a wooden door,
which he could not force. A little further and he came to a second which
opened to his pressure. It was so small an entrance that he stooped as
he passed in. He shut it carefully behind him, and stood in what was
almost total darkness, until his eyes grew used to the gloom.