They uttered no sound. The guard at the upper end of the square was not aware of their advent until Roldan reached them. He was out of breath, but he caught the arm of the man nearest him and pointed. In a second the word had passed, and the handful of defendants stared helplessly at the advancing hordes. But only for a moment. Padre Flores shouted to fall into line, then ordered them not to fire in the same breath. Anastacio, somewhat ahead of his followers, was approaching with a white rag in his hand.
When within a yard of the missionaries he paused and saluted respectfully.
"A word, my fathers," he commanded, and in excellent Spanish.
"Go on," said Padre Flores, sternly.
"We have not come to kill," said Anastacio, slowly and with great distinctness: the noise beyond the north gate had ceased. "You know that we never kill the priests, nor do we care for blood. We have come for the stores of the Mission—all your great winter supply, except a small quantity which we will leave you that you may not suffer until you can get more. We are tired of this life. We belong to the mountains. We cannot see that we are any better for your teachings, and we certainly are not as strong. Now let us do our work in peace, and all will be well. But if you fire, we let our arrows go, and we are twenty to one."
All turned anxiously to Padre Flores. They were not warlike, and if no bodily harm was intended they could see no reason for resistance.
"You have us at disadvantage," said Padre Flores, coldly. "I cannot sacrifice those in my charge, if you do not mean to kill. I agree to your terms on one condition: that we retain our firearms. I pass my word that no one shall shoot. I cannot take your word—nor that of any Indian. As you say, our teachings are thrown away."
"I take yours," said Anastacio, undisturbed. "All I ask is that you remain here under charge of twenty of my followers until I call them away."
He marched off, after planting his guard; and for the next two hours he and his men looted the Mission and packed the trove on horses which had been brought up, or on the backs of the bigger Indians. At the end of that time he shouted to his prisoners to come down and enter the Mission.
Roldan and Adan had been exchanging bitter condolences over the humiliating change in the warlike programme, but the raw air of the morning had chilled their enthusiasm, and Roldan, moreover, began to feel reaction from the shock to his nerves. It was not every day that a boy sailed down through forty feet of space and lit on his feet, and his nerves were out of tune.