father sits under the vines, a happy man.

Day by day the new friends stroll by the lake. Seated where below
them the valley shines in all its bravery of spring, surrounded with
the sighing pines, Padre Francisco tells of the resentment of the
Californians toward all Americans. They are all "Gringos," "thieving
Yankees."

"Be careful, my son, even here. Our wild vaqueros have waylaid
and tortured to death some foreigners. The Diggers, Utes, and Hill
Indians butcher any wanderer. Keep closely under my protection.
Don Miguel adores Donna Juanita, sweet Christian lady! She will
lend me aid; you are thus safe. If your people leave the Hawk's Peak
without a battle, our cavalry will not take the field; we expect
couriers momentarily. Should fighting begin, Don Miguel will lead
his troops. He will then take you as guide or interpreter; God
alone must guard you." The man of peace crosses himself in sadness.
"Meanwhile, I will soften the heart of Don Miguel."

Maxime learns of the padre's youth. Educated for the Church after
a boyhood spent in Paris, he sailed for Vera Cruz. He has been for
years among the Pacific Indians. He familiarized himself with the
Spanish language and this western life in Mexico. Stout-hearted
Padre Francisco worked from mission to mission till he found his
self-chosen field in California.

The "pathfinder" sees the decadence of priestly influence. Twenty-one
flourishing missions have been secularized by Governor Hijar since
1834. Now the superior coast tribes are scattered, and the civilizing
work since 1769 is all lost to human progress. In glowing words