suffer--in the body and in the spirit. One life is for us, another for
you. Should the white man have many children and children's children
until all the mountains and valleys of California are his, then will all
the Indians die, even though they are treated well for they are slaves--
no more. Are they happy? For what were they made? To be slaves and die
from the earth before they are threescore and ten, to be no more
remembered than the beasts of the field?"

"I hope you'll win to-morrow," cried Roldan, his young mind moved to
pity, and profoundly disturbed. "You can never get California away from
the Spaniard, and I can't wish you to; but you might, if you rallied all
the Indians to you, become powerful enough to live in the way you like
best, and I hope you will. Why should men say: 'I am better than you; I
will make you like myself?' How do we know? I have ridden like the wind,
and coliared a bull with the best vaquero in the Californias, but I am
afraid my mind has had fifteen years of siesta. Now--well, I shall be
governor of the Californias one day, and then I shall send all the
Indians back to the mountains."

Anastacio put out his hand, and the two civilisations decreed by Nature
to stand apart from the beginning to the end of time clasped in brief
friendship.

"I will be your friend," said the Indian, "and the white man need not
despise the friendship of a great chief. California is a fair land.
Others will come to it besides the Spaniard. If Anastacio has thousands
of Indians to run to his call they will fight when he bids them."

"Caramba! you are right," exclaimed Roldan. "Those Americans--"