"Who is the man?" Don Diego asked.
"He is called Fray Felipe, caballero."
"What is this? Fray Felipe is an old man, and my good friend. I spent night before the last with him at the hacienda he manages."
"No doubt he has imposed upon you, caballero, as upon others," the landlord said.
Don Diego showed some slight interest now. He walked briskly from the tavern and went to the office of the magistrado in a little adobe building on the opposite side of the plaza. The horsemen were just arriving with their prisoner. They were two soldiers who had been stationed at San Gabriel, the frailes having been forced to give them bed and board in the governor's name.
It was Fray Felipe. He had been forced to walk the entire distance fastened to the saddles of his guards, and there were indications that the horsemen had galloped now and then to test the fray's powers of endurance.
Fray Felipe's gown was almost in rags, and was covered with dust and perspiration. Those who crowded around him now gave him jeers and coarse jests, but the fray held his head proudly and pretended not to see or hear them.
The soldiers dismounted and forced him into the magistrado's office, and the loiterers and natives crowded forward and through the door. Don Diego hesitated a moment, and then stepped toward the door. "One side, scum!" he cried; and the natives gave way before him.
He entered and pressed through the throng. The magistrado saw him and beckoned him to a front seat. But Don Diego did not care to sit at that time.
"What is this we have here?" he demanded. "This is Fray Felipe, a godly man and my friend."