“Go away?” she repeated slowly. “But, Padre––why?”
“The soldiers might come––wicked men might come and harm you, chiquita!”
The child seemed not to comprehend. “Is it that you think they will, Padre?” she at length spoke.
“I fear so, little one,” he made reply.
“But––why should they?”
“Because they want to steal and kill,” he returned sadly.
“They can’t, Padre––they can’t!” the girl said quickly. “You told me that people see only their thoughts, you know. They only think they want to steal––and they don’t think right––”
“But,” he interrupted bitterly, “that doesn’t keep them from coming here just the same and––and––” He checked his words, as a faint memory of his recent talks with the girl glowed momentarily in his seething brain.
“But we can keep them from coming here, Padre––can’t we?”