As he walked back across the plaza to where he had left his horse, the caballero chuckled like a man well pleased. There was no anger in his face or bearing now, no resentment, rather lively satisfaction. He passed the giant Pedro talking with another neophyte, and when they turned their backs to him and continued their conversation as if he had not been near he laughed outright.
He led his horse from the plaza and down the slope, and there he removed saddle and bridle and picketed the animal where green grass grew along a trickling brook. Walking some distance from the mission he shot a rabbit, and, carrying the game back to where he had left the horse, he cleaned it with his knife, washed it in the creek, and hung it up on a forked stick.
Then he arranged dry moss and grass for a fire, being particular to build it where it could be seen easily from the guest house of the mission and from the padres’ quarters; and he knew that every action was being watched, that men and women might keep silent, but could not curb their curiosity.
He had no flint and steel, neither did he know how to make fire by the Indian method, and he found himself now facing a predicament. But there were glass buttons on his cloak, and from one of them he made a burning glass, and crouching over the dry grass focused the sun’s beams and in time had a blaze.
He cooked the rabbit, ate it without salt, put more fuel on the fire, then spread his cloak on the ground, picked up the guitar, and began playing softly. Presently he sang, his voice ringing out across the plaza and reaching the ears of those in the mission.
Now and then an Indian child came to the end of the adobe wall and watched and listened. Men and women passed from hut to hut, but none paid the slightest attention to him. Smoke poured from chimneys, and there were odours of meals being prepared. His singing and playing over for a time, the caballero sat with his back against a rock, his sombrero tilted over his eyes, and rested.
Presently he saw the door of the guest house open, and out of it came a vision of female loveliness that caused the caballero to catch his breath. Behind her walked an elderly duenna of proud carriage.
“This will be the fair Anita, with some señora in attendance,” the caballero chuckled. “I wonder if they intend paying me a visit?”
It looked it, for the girl led the way down the slope and toward the creek, walking with head proudly lifted, the elderly señora tripping at her heels. They passed within twenty feet of the caballero, but the girl did not look his way. The other woman, however, glanced at him from the corners of her eyes, and he smiled at her curiosity.
They stopped beside the creek, and the girl filled a small jar with water, and began arranging wild flowers in it, while the señora stood beside her, looking down the valley toward the presidio.