"O, Doña mia, do not go away. If it please thee I'll praise the heavenly angels."
The window was suddenly closed.
"Caramba! again. It's difficult for a soldier to trim his tongue that he may speak words of love to the tender ears of the capricious señorita."
"Good evening, Captain Morando."
The soldier turned abruptly. At his side stood Señor Mendoza, administrator of the Mission of San José, gravely looking at him.
"Good evening, your Excellency. I hope your health is all of the best," somewhat discomposedly.
"Many thanks, Captain. Your hope is generously fulfilled in me, for my health is indeed good."
The Administrator's expression became quizzical. "May I ask you, brave soldier, why you stand on guard here in the moonlight, bearing that singular-appearing firearm?" pointing to the guitar. "Can it be that renegade Indians threaten?"
"When a soldier stands at guard, Señor Administrator, may there not be motives many, other than renegade Indians?"
The other laughed and changed the subject. "Did I but dream the comandante of the pueblo of San José was to be here to-night, he would have been invited to sit with our council meeting but now concluded. Spring advances, and the rains fall not. Never has Alta California seen such drought. Our live stock sadly need grazing and water. Hence I called the council. I would that you had been present. The military mind is fertile in expedient."