“Long ago my father got gold for sacred prayer reasons; he hid it until he was old; when he died he made gift of it to me that my mother and sister buy freedom. That is all, Excellencia, but the gold is good gold.”
She slipped her hand under her skirt and unfastened the leather strings of the burro-skin belt,––it fell heavily on the tile floor. She untied the end of it and poured a handful on the table.
“You see, señora, there is riches enough to go with your words, but never enough to pay for them.”
“Santa Maria!” cried the amazed priest. “That is red gold! In what place was it found?”
Tula laid her hand over the nuggets and faced him.
“That secret was the secret of Miguel who is dead.”
“But––some old Indian must know–––”
Tula shook her head with absolute finality.
“No old Indian in all the world knows that!” she said. “This was a secret of the youth of Miguel, and only when old and dying did he give it for his people. This I,––Tula, child of Miguel tell you.”
Padre Andreas looked from the girl to Kit and back again, knowing that the death of Miguel was a recent thing since it had occurred after the stealing of the women.