"These hills are just beyond the Mission grant, Padre Osuna," he said.
"Nor are they on any rancho. Therefore what is in them is as much ours
as any man's. This is the first time that we have been here, but it will
not be the last; and when I am the governor of all the Californias, I
shall send many Indians to dig the very heart out of these hills. So
pick out all that you can now, Padre Osuna, for ten years hence--"

As he spoke fear gave place to exultation in finding himself pitted
against a man whom he intuitively respected more than any he had ever
met, and whom he knew most men feared and none understood. Moreover, he
heard two sets of teeth clattering behind him, and that alone would have
sent the blood of a born leader of men back to its skin.

But his speech did not proceed to the finish. The priest swooped down
and caught the three necks between his hands, easily spanning them,
pressing the heads hard together. Then he lifted the boys high in the
air and held them there, a kicking, humiliated trio. The blanched olive
of his face was reflected in the pallid brows at the extremity of his
rigid arms. His voice, which had been lost in passion, found itself.

"And when your Indians come, Senor Don Roldan," he said, "they will find
three skeletons six feet beneath the floor of this cave. You will never
leave this cave, not one of you. When you are dead for want of food and
drink, I shall return and bury you. And no one will seek you here."
Suddenly he dashed them to the ground. "A thousand curses go with you,"
he shrieked, "to make a murderer of me. I was near enough to hell
before--"

"And our fingers will scratch the ground beneath your feet," interrupted