this barrier, which seemed to shut out the boisterous world beyond, he
fancied he noticed for the first time a slight breach in the parapet,
over which an advanced banner of the fog was fluttering. Was it an omen?
His speculations were cut short by a voice at his very side.

He turned quickly and beheld one of those "heathens" against whom he
had just warned his young acolyte; one of that straggling band of
adventurers whom the recent gold discoveries had scattered along the
coast. Luckily the fertile alluvium of these valleys, lying parallel
with the sea, offered no "indications" to attract the gold seekers.
Nevertheless to Father Pedro even the infrequent contact with the
Americanos was objectionable; they were at once inquisitive and
careless; they asked questions with the sharp perspicacity of
controversy; they received his grave replies with the frank indifference
of utter worldliness. Powerful enough to have been tyrannical
oppressors, they were singularly tolerant and gentle, contenting
themselves with a playful, good-natured irreverence, which tormented
the good father more than opposition. They were felt to be dangerous and
subversive.

The Americano, however, who stood before him did not offensively suggest
these national qualities. A man of middle height, strongly built,
bronzed and slightly gray from the vicissitudes of years and exposure,
he had an air of practical seriousness that commended itself to Father
Pedro. To his religious mind it suggested self-consciousness; expressed
in the dialect of the stranger it only meant "business."

"I'm rather glad I found you out here alone," began the latter; "it
saves time. I haven't got to take my turn with the rest, in there"--he
indicated the church with his thumb--"and you haven't got to make an