The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1938-03-17
CHAPTER XV-COntinued

city moved to the table, picked up
this letter, and slipped it into the
sleeve of my habit. But the father
did not notice. He seemed quite
distressed, and dismissed me, say
ing he would call for me again. And
here is the letter."
Read it."
"There is the usual preamble.
Then it goes on thus: Upon reach
ing here these padres withdrew
themselves. They passed the day
in sleep and idleness and the night
in outrages, disturbing the repose of
those who, having spent the day in
work, must needs sleep at night.
They behaved, indeed, like sons of
darkness; breaking the jars where
the chocolate of the community is
kept, stealing the chocolate-pots to
beat them for drums, and appropri-
ating the balls which were kept by
the community for the recreation of
the religious, bowled them through
the dormitories at unreasonable
hours of the night, with result to
the religious of terror and confu-
sion. And they scaled the walls of
the mission establishment by night,
scarcely on deeds of virtue
Dent
"Scarcelyl" crowed Fray Mari
ano, sitting up on the edge of his
cot and rocking back and forth.
Scarcely! Al, por Dios, that is fine!
Brother, you did a noble deed to
get that letter!"
The other rose and walked over
to the table, and poured wine for
both of them.
'Now want to speak of something
else seriously to you. The other day
when the Governor and his party
were here at the mission for the
confirmation of his spoiled little Ex-
cellency, young Pedro, I overheard
many things. One of them was that,
because you and I had not turned
out to be the shining lights Junipero
Sierra had hoped us to be, the found
ing of the Mission Santa Barbara
could not take place." He gazed
sternly at the other.
ooh, tut, tut, tut. Aren't you
ashamed, Brother?"
"Stop it, hypocritical wretch! So
I have been thinking that if we
mended our ways, things might turn
out so that we could be, if not
actually the founders of that mis-
sion, at least those in charge of it.
Is that not worth thinking about?"
Fray Rubi gazed open-mouthed in
admiration.
Splendid! Oh, what a brother
have I! What a mind, what a soul!
Yes, let us do that. I shall be Fa-
Their Superior, and you shall be my
subordinate.
ooh, no! / shall be Father Supe-
rior, and you the subordinate II
am
"No, I shall be superior, you mis-
begotten dog!"
Fray Rubi dashed his wine-cup
at ellis face.
The other screamed, and reached
blindly before him, but Rubi had
retreated to corner, for in the
doorway stood the Father President,
looking in at them, shielding with
protective gesture, the Indian youth,
Pho.
For a moment the padre stared
at the two, then covering his eyes
with his hands, stumbled away,
limping painfully to his own cell.
AS though his legs could not support
him, he sank on his knees beside
his bed, and resting his head on
the rough uncovered planks, wept.
Pho stood awkwardly beside him,
watching compassionately the thin
heaving shoulders.
Padre mio," he said at last very
softly. "Padre milo, come, Pho is
here beside you. Do not grieve,
Father" He laid a timid brown
hand on the priest.
Junipero Sierra raised his ravaged
face to the Indian.
eyes, Pho, you are beside me.
Thank God for that. Thank God
for you, my own, my true little
son." He allowed Pho to lift him to
the cot.
"Pio," he groaned, 81 have been
sinner. have failed, somewhere,
somehow, or else would not be now
forsaken. I had gone to those two
with love and forgiveness in my
heart, to beg them to help me, to
be my eyes, since my spectacles
are gone. And you saw them, Pho.
Your innocent eyes saw them. All,
why have they been sent to me, for
I do not remember any sin I have
committed black enough to deserve
them as punishment.
'No, Father! Say it not! You are
no sinner"
"Dear son." The father smiled
family. Little loyal one. You are
all I have, Pho, it seems. Every
thing else is falling away from me;
my right of confirmation, my be-
loved mission to Santa Barbara, my
friendship with Don Pedro and now
these messages that have come to-
day, denying me even hope for the
future. Pio," he said suddenly,
"you can read?"
"a little, Father"
"Good. You shall read to me the
dispatches that arrived on the San
Antonio. You who have been my
legs, must now be my eyes. I have
looked at these letters once, but I
can scarcely see so read, my
son, and carefully. I may have
been mistaken when I read Them"
The boy read, slowly, painfully,
stumbling over the stilted official
phraseology of the letters from the