“I do hope Docas won’t fall,” said Alachu to Heema. Docas knew that Alachu was a little frightened, so he thought, “I’ll show her what a big boy like me can do.” He slipped out on the pole and swung himself around on it until he was hanging by his knees. Then he pulled himself up again on top of the pole.
Alachu called out, “Do be careful, Docas!”
“I’m all right. Don’t be scared,” he called back. Then he stood up carefully and started to walk along the top of the ridgepole; but the pole was round and slippery, and he slipped. He would have fallen to the ground, but he caught hold of the ridgepole with one hand. He drew himself up again. Then he crawled back to the nearest post, slid down, and climbed off the wall to the ground.
Meanwhile, some of the Indians had been making curved tiles for the roof. The tiles were made of the same adobe mud as the bricks, but were baked in fires instead of being dried by the sun.
Alachu looked up at the ridgepole, then she looked at the tiles.
“They’ll not reach from the ridgepole to the wall. They will fall through,” said she.
“Not when we get ready to put them on,” said Docas.
Massea had brought down from the mountains a great many smaller trees. The Indians pulled the bark from these, and laid them in rows from the ridgepole to the outer wall. Across these Massea and Docas wove a network of twigs just as they did when they made the storehouse. They tied all these trees tightly to the ridgepole so that nothing could slip.
“There,” said Docas to Alachu, “do you think the tiles will fall through now when we lay them on top of that?”
So, after much work, the big church was built. The floor was covered with large, square bricks, the pictures were hung, the candles were put up. The images of the saints were placed around the walls. Near the front was a beautiful banner on which was a picture of the Mother of Jesus.