Roldan sprang to his feet with a warning cry. The other boys, greed
routed by the danger sense, were on their feet as quickly. As the three
lads, none very tall for his age, faced the gigantic bulk of the priest,
they looked cornered and helpless.
The priest, unconsciously beyond doubt, lifted his huge hands, opening
and shutting them slowly. The movement had an ugly significance, and the
hands, in the miserable glimmer of light, looked like great bats, and
seemed to pervade the cavern. Involuntarily the boys squirmed. Then
Roldan, mindful always of his proud position as captain of his small
band, stepped in front of that band and spoke with a vocal control that
did him much credit, considering that his heart seemed to be kicking in
the middle of his stomach.
"These hills are just beyond the Mission grant, Padre Osuna," he said.
"Nor are they on any rancho. Therefore what is in them is as much ours
as any man's. This is the first time that we have been here, but it will
not be the last; and when I am the governor of all the Californias, I
shall send many Indians to dig the very heart out of these hills. So
pick out all that you can now, Padre Osuna, for ten years hence--"
As he spoke fear gave place to exultation in finding himself pitted
against a man whom he intuitively respected more than any he had ever
met, and whom he knew most men feared and none understood.
Pages:
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167