Part 17 (1/2)

”He has gone to look at the mouth of the tunnel,” whispered Roldan.

”What fools we were not to cover it up again. Then he would have walked its length to find us, and the horses might have come before he returned. Well, he cannot get us until he pulls the roof down.”

”He could do it,” whispered Adan, grimly. ”Those hands! Dios de mi alma!”

”He will think we have gone somewhere with Don Jim.”

The priest returned in less than half an hour. His face, if anything, was still more terrible to look upon. There was a touch of foam on his lips. His great hands were clinched. He strode over to the bunk and lifted the heaped-up bearskin. Suddenly he pressed his face into the fur.

”Perfume--Dona Martina's,” he exclaimed. ”They have been here.”

He raised his face to the ceiling, and the boys held their mouths open that their teeth might not clack together. They closed their eyes: instinct bade them give heed to visual magnetism. Roldan immediately wanted to cough, Adan to scratch his nose. The next few moments were the most agonised of their lives. They felt the priest lift his hands and pa.s.s them slowly along the ceiling, they felt those eyes searching every crevice. Then they felt him grip the edge of the aperture and lift himself until his eyes were above the garret floor. But it was pitch dark. He could not even see the ladder, much less the boys under the bear skins.

The priest dropped to the floor and seated himself upon a box, dropping his face into his hands. There he sat, motionless, for hours. The boys buried their heads in the skins and went to sleep.

They were awakened by the sound of voices. A candle flared below. Hill had entered. He and the priest were alone.

”They were here, sir, that's true enough. I've just taken them to the Sennor Carriller's and pointed them fur home. They seemed in a hurry to vamos these parts.”

The priest groaned and struck his fist on the table. ”Then they are leagues away by this.”

”They be, for a fact. Their horses was fresh and they was powerful keen. They was just sweaten' to git home.”

”And Rafael Carillo? Did he go with them?”

”He didn't. He allowed to, but his father warnt agreeable. In fact he was--savin' your grace--cussed disagreeable. He corralled us as we was corrallen the horses; and although he was mighty mad at such French leave, he said, speakin' of the other two kids, that they could take the two horses and git, and the sooner the better, and if they never come lookin' for adventures in these parts agin the better he'd be pleased.”

The priest did not appear to doubt him. He was looking through the doorway. Roldan could not see his face, but he saw the stare of wonder on Hill's.

”Very well,” said the priest, after a moment, and his voice was hardly audible. ”I shall return now. Can you come down to the Mission to-morrow--no, the day after. I have a secret to confide to you, and it will not be to your disadvantage to know it. I had no intention of telling any one, but I need help, and now more than ever. There is no time to be lost. Can you come early?”

”I'll be there between dawn and ten o'clock.”

”That will do. Good night.” And the priest went out.

No one spoke until the sound came up to them of a horse fording the creek. Then Hill said cautiously,--

”Hi, there, young uns.”

”In the name of Mary let us come down, Don Jim,” hissed Roldan, through the crack.

”Well, I guess you kin. He's climbin' the hill, and I don't see as there's anything to bring him back. I hope the fleas ain't et ye alive.”

The boys lowered the ladder as rapidly as their stiff fingers would permit, and a moment later stood on the floor of the room, shaking themselves vigorously.

”Where's Rafael?” demanded Roldan.

”Tucked in his little warm bed with a warmer hide, I guess. The old man caught us in the very act of horse stealin'. Holy smoke, but he did cuss. I ain't got no pride in Yankee cussin' left.”

”What did Rafael tell him?” interrupted Roldan, eagerly.