As the boys worked, they grew more and more silent, more and more
absorbed. They forgot their delight in rodeo, coliar, bear-hunts, bull-
fights, riding about the ranches from morning till noon, the race, the
religious processions, the dulces of their mothers' cooks. A new and
mighty passion possessed them, the strongest they had ever known. Their
lips were pressed hard together--those soft Spanish lips that were
usually half apart--their eyes glowed with a steady fire. Their chests
rose and fell in short regular spasms.

Suddenly a thrill ran through Roldan. He had felt it before when a
rattlesnake, ready to strike, had fixed its green malignant eyes upon
him. He flashed the lantern about swiftly, twisting his neck with deep
anxiety. It would be no minor adventure to encounter a coiled rattler in
this narrow place. Then he saw something white shining out of the
darkness high above the rays, a large white disk, in which glittered two
points of light inexpressibly infuriate.

Roldan sprang to his feet with a warning cry. The other boys, greed
routed by the danger sense, were on their feet as quickly. As the three
lads, none very tall for his age, faced the gigantic bulk of the priest,
they looked cornered and helpless.

The priest, unconsciously beyond doubt, lifted his huge hands, opening
and shutting them slowly. The movement had an ugly significance, and the
hands, in the miserable glimmer of light, looked like great bats, and
seemed to pervade the cavern. Involuntarily the boys squirmed. Then
Roldan, mindful always of his proud position as captain of his small
band, stepped in front of that band and spoke with a vocal control that
did him much credit, considering that his heart seemed to be kicking in
the middle of his stomach.