owl and the yap of the coyote.

It was a long and lonely watch. Roldan felt as if he were suspended in
air, cut off from Earth and all its details. Although his military
instinct had been aroused and he burned for fight, his spirit grew
graver in that isolation, and he resolved to do all he could to save the
Mission from attack. It was there for peace and good deeds, and its
preservation was of far more importance than a small pair of spurs for
Master Roldan.

Nevertheless, Roldan was to win his spurs.

Toward morning he saw an Indian, attended by a priest, let himself out
of a gate and steal toward the corral. A few moments later he
reappeared, leading a mustang up the valley in the shadow of the trees.
The priest re-entered the gate, and Roldan knew that the messenger had
gone forth for help.

At sunrise a brother came running up the stair. "Better go down," he
said, smiling. "I am going to ring for mass, and it will deafen you. You
saw nothing, of course?"

"Nothing."

"We did not expect it, and slept. It takes time to organise."

"Have they any weapons?"

"Their bows and arrows. We have always thought it best to leave them
those in case of assault by savage tribes."