The Valiant Runaways [14]
which you will lock yourself in. Then go up into the belfry and watch.
It is the full of the moon and clear. If you merely see a dozen or more
figures gliding about the rancheria, that will mean that they are
plotting, and intend no action to-night. If you see several hundred, run
down and bring me word. But if you see a mass of men rise at once and
descend upon the west gate, ring the bells. I shall go and warn the
soldiers, and every priest and brother will sleep on his pistol to-
night. But I don't think they are organised as yet. Before dawn I shall
send a messenger to the nearest town for reinforcements. Go, my son. You
are a brave and clever lad."
Roldan ran down the corridor and secured admission to the church. When
he had locked the door behind him, the vast dark building, beneath whose
tiles priests lay buried, shook his spirit as night and the plains had
not done, and he wished that he had brought Adan. Then he jerked his
shoulders, reflected that cowards did not carry off the prizes of the
world, and determined that his first should be the admiration and
approval of the priests and soldiers of this great Mission. He walked
rapidly down the nave, trying not to hear the hollow echo of his
footsteps, then opened several doors before he found the one behind
which was the spiral stair leading to the belfry. His supple legs
carried him swiftly up the steep ascent, and in a moment he was
straining his eyes in the direction of the rancheria.
The belfry was about ten feet square. The massive walls contained three
large apertures, through which the clear sonorous notes of the great
bells carried far. Just beneath the arch Roldan had selected as
observatory, and on the side opposite the plaza was the private garden
of the padres, surrounded by cloisters. An aged figure, cowled, his arms
folded, was pacing slowly.
Roldan, glancing over his shoulder, saw Padre Flores return from the
soldiers' quarters; but in the rancheria there was no motion but the
swaying tops of the willows, and no sound anywhere but the hoot of the
owl and the yap of the coyote.
It was a long and lonely watch. Roldan felt as if he were suspended in
air, cut off from Earth and all its details. Although his military
instinct had been aroused and he burned for fight, his spirit grew
graver in that isolation, and he resolved to do all he could to save the
Mission from attack. It was there for peace and good deeds, and its
preservation was of far more importance than a small pair of spurs for
Master Roldan.
Nevertheless, Roldan was to win his spurs.
Toward morning he saw an Indian, attended by a priest, let himself out
of a gate and steal toward the corral. A few moments later he
reappeared, leading a mustang up the valley in the shadow of the trees.
The priest re-entered the gate, and Roldan knew that the messenger had
gone forth for help.
At sunrise a brother came running up the stair. "Better go down," he
said, smiling. "I am going to ring for mass, and it will deafen you. You
saw nothing, of course?"
"Nothing."
"We did not expect it, and slept. It takes time to organise."
"Have they any weapons?"
"Their bows and arrows. We have always thought it best to leave them
those in case of assault by savage tribes."
Roldan descended the stair as the bells rang out their peremptory
summons. Although he was tired and sleepy, he determined to remain in
the church during mass, and knelt near the altar by a pillar where he
could command a view of the nave. Almost the first to enter was
Anastacio. He carried himself proudly--like a warrior, thought Roldan--
and advancing to the altar bowed low, then knelt stiffly, his eyes
closed.
The others drifted in slowly: the women kneeling on the right, the men
on the left. Finally all the priests and brothers, except Padre Flores,
who conducted the service, entered and knelt in the aisle. Padre Flores'
garments were as rich as any worn in old Spain, and the candelabra about
him were as massive. The images of the saints were clad in white