"Yes, but we never surmised that they had Indian blood," said Mr. Page.
"Well, they have, sir, good and strong. Their mother is a full-blooded Indian, living on the Mesa Grande—married again to a good fellow—Indian—up there. She's a cousin to Mauricio and Francisco. Lots of their relations living round here. That's why the Señora never comes to Warner's. I don't blame her—it's a bitter pill."
"It must have gone hard with her," said Mr. Page.
"It did. Yet she took that girl when she was a baby, and has raised her ever since. They do say she never knew she was part Indian until four or five years ago. The old lady took the boy then—he was at the mission school. Now she sends him up to Santa Clara. They're fine children—the image of their father, both of them. Miss Ramona, she's a perfect lady if there ever was one."
The next day Mr. Page said to Mauricio:
"Chadwick told me the story of the Almirante children last night. I know now why it is that Francisco looks like the boy."
"Yes?" replied Mauricio. "Chadwick talks too much, I think. Still, everybody knows it. But it would not have been for either Francisco or myself to have been the first to tell of that which has caused the Señora so much unhappiness."
Which Mr. Page considered, and justly, another admirable trait in the Indian whom he had already learned to admire and respect.