also by the Elcuanams, who, emboldened by the Father's fearless
demeanor, had ventured back to the zone of danger. "Pio!" cried the
Father, "get up and show yourself, if it is you. Sancta Mar'a! what is
all this? Why, those are my clothes you are wearing, you graceless
rascal! Take them off instantly, and tell me what you mean by this
outrage. Bring him to me in the ramada, Jose, and be sure you bring the
umbrella. Praise to the Saints! I have found it, and it seems to be
undamaged, after all."

On the way to the ramada the Father could not help looking round once or
twice at the prisoner, who followed with hangdog look, escorted by the
scandalized Indians from the Mission and a mob of astounded Elcuanams.
His indignation began to melt as he thought of the miraculous recovery
of the umbrella, and, since he was a genial and lenient soul, each
glance he took at the wretched Pio tickled his risibles more and more,
until his shoulders shook with merriment. Arrived at the court of
justice he managed to get up an aspect of terrific severity as the
malefactor was led in by Jose. The umbrella and the other incriminating
evidence were deposited beside him. The Elcuanams and the other Indians,
crowding about the entrance, crooked their necks with anxiety to see
what would happen. Pio had not yet disrobed, and stood dolefully
awaiting the worst, from nightcap to stockings a clown like and
altogether incomprehensible figure. Again the Father's funny vein got
the better of him. He knew that he was compromising himself forever, but
for the life of him he could not help it--his lip trembled, he tried to
control it but failed, he chuckled, giggled, cackled, and burst into a
roar of laughter.

It was no use to think of punishment after that. When Father Urbano at
last got the shreds of his dignity together, the whole history was