neared the mission, and the houses clustered around it, the inmates
started from their various occupations and gazed in astonishment at
Juana as she sped by, wild-eyed, her hair streaming in the wind.

Father Zalvidea had passed the morning in reading the letters Diego had
brought to him the night before, and meditating gloomily on the prospect
confronting the missions. He did not fear any particular trouble at San
Gabriel, but the news he had had from some of the northern
establishments was not reassuring; and the missions were so closely
united in one common bond, that what was an injury to one was an injury
to all. After reading and re-reading the letters, he put them away, and
betook himself to his garden for a little pasear before his midday meal.
He had paced the length of the garden only two or three times, when he
was aroused from his revery by the abrupt appearance of a woman whom,
from the agony distorting her face, and her long fluttering hair, he did
not at once recognize. As soon as she saw him Juana cried out, "Father,
Father!" and staggering forward a step, fell, unconscious, at his feet.
Calling loudly for help, the priest bent over, and caught the baby from
her arms. At sight of the arrow he exclaimed: "Now may God help us!" for
he understood, on the instant, its import.

By this time he was surrounded by a number of women and servants, and,
not heeding their ejaculations, he bade them carry Juana into the house.
The baby was past help - the arrow had pierced its neck, and the child
was even then in the stupor that would give way only to death, the
poison working rapidly in the small body. But the Father could not
linger. Leaving Juana and the child in care of the household, he quickly
alarmed the Mexican contingent of the mission, and put them on guard. A
small number of armed men were sent to reconnoitre the mountains near
Diego's home. The hunt was kept up for two days; but nothing was found