again was soon fast asleep.

When he awoke it was early morning. It was still cold, and he kept the
clothes on. Indeed, it occurred to him that this was just the thing to
do; it was much easier than carrying the bundle in one hand while Big
Flower occupied the other. He would still have the slippers to carry,
for he saw that they would soon be worn out if he wore them. With a few
edible roots and berries he made a sort of breakfast, not without
pensive recollection of the warm atole now being dished out at the
Mission. When he was ready to go on he thought of the morning prayers at
the Mission, and believing Big Flower to be something connected with the
Church, the natural thing to do was to say his prayers before it, which
he did, and then started on his way. After a few miles he knew he was
near the shut-in valley (which we call El Cajon) and he remembered that
there were Indians there who might know him. It is doubtful, really,
whether any of his acquaintances would have stopped to recognize him had
they caught sight of the figure he made, for it is safe to say that no
such spectacle had ever been seen thereabouts as our friend Pio made,
attired in the Father's underclothes, adorned with a nightcap, and
carrying in one hand a vast yellow umbrella and in the other a pair of
slippers. The handkerchiefs, much too fine to be wasted, he had tied
together by the corners and made into a sash, such as be had seen the
Mexican caballeros wear; and in his piebald of red, white, and blue, he
made altogether a decidedly striking appearance.

As he was considering turning aside and making another detour, he had an
object lesson of the effect he produced upon his countrymen. An Indian
appeared at a little distance. He was gathering wood, and as he
straightened from stooping his eyes fell upon Pio. With a yell he
dropped his load and fled at topmost speed, emitting such sounds as we