"And good enough too! Across the line, do these bandits of ours make much trouble these days?"
"No one has complained to me of them. You say they take most from the Americano, but in our country there are no Americano ranches yet; we do not expect to find them there for many years."
"Well, Capitan does go down there sometimes," insisted Don Enrico; "I've heard of it. His family meant him for the Church, but the young devil ran away and joined the army with his elder brother. The Americans shot Roberto; this one was only a boy then, light-weight to ride, and he carried despatches, and never went back to the Church. Oh, he is Californian, all right,—is cousin to half the country. He is—what relation should he be to us, Refugia?"
"He is second cousin to me," said Ana.
"So if you hear of him being in trouble for his soul, say a prayer for him, padre, on account of his loyal cousin," said Juanita, and laughed teasingly; but Ana lifted troubled, dark eyes to the padre's face.
"Do so, father," she said, simply; "for the sake of his soul, remember me!"
"These women!" laughed her uncle; "they are always troubling us about our souls, padre. Don't let them spoil your supper with a list of prayers!"
"And what would become of some of your souls if we women did not say the prayers?" retorted his wife. "God knows, Capitan needs them."
"We all need them," said the priest, quietly.
"Still, I always have understood that he is the whitest of the bunch," observed Bryton.