"That priest! that
priest!"
"It is true," said Roldan, pausing abruptly. "You will not dare to
return home at present--nor we. It is flight once more--to Los Angeles.
We will stay there--where he would not dare touch us if he came--until
he repents or makes sure that we will have told if we intend to tell.
Will you come?"
"Will I? I would go to Mexico if I could. I feel that there is not room
in the Californias for those hands and myself."
"I will take care of you," said Roldan, proudly, anxious to rout the
memory of his recent humiliation. "But come." And Rafael, too weary and
bewildered to resent the authority of his erst-while rival, trudged
obediently in the rear.
"It grows colder," said Adan, significantly.
"Yes," said Roldan. "We near the mountains."
Adan stopped. "Is it the mountains again?" he asked. "If it is, then I,
for one, prefer the priest."
"The mountains never scared you half as badly as the priest did," said
Roldan, cruelly. "And to say nothing of the fact that we need never get
lost in the mountains again, the embrace of a grizzly would be no harder
and more death-sure than one in the great arms of that fiend that wears
a cassock.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172