Between
you and me, Banks, Brimmer, and I think that Brace and Winslow have gone
too far in this matter, and we're going to stop it, unless the whole
thing is over now, as they say."
"Don't believe that," said Crosby. "It's like their infernal
earthquakes; there's always a second shock, and a tidal wave to follow.
I pity Brace, Winslow, and Perkins if they get caught in it."
There seemed to be some reason for his skepticism, for later the calm of
the Mission Garden was broken upon by the monotonous tread of banded men
on the shell-strewn walks, and the door of the refectory opened to
the figure of Senor Perkins. A green silk sash across his breast, a
gold-laced belt, supporting a light dress-sword and a pair of pistols,
buckled around the jaunty waist of his ordinary black frock-coat, were
his scant martial suggestions. But his hat, albeit exchanged for a soft
felt one, still reposed on the back of his benevolent head, and seemed
to accent more than ever the contrast between his peaceful shoulders
and the military smartness of his lower figure. He bowed with easy
politeness to the assembled fugitives; but before he could address them,
Father Esteban had risen to his feet,--
"I thought that this house, at least, was free from the desecrating
footsteps of lawlessness and impiety," said the priest sternly.
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