The friendship thus formed still continues, and is shared with that of the Gordons, who have returned to California.
Francisco, true to his promise, came in October with a large load of wood, and several sacks of walnuts which he had gathered for the children.
He told them there had been another Junta, the people still persisting that they did not wish to leave their homes. "At last," he said, "the white men grew angry, and said some Indians must come with them and help choose, since they knew best what they would like. 'Will you come Captain Cecilio?' said one.
"'No, I will not,' said Cecilio. 'First I will die.'
"'That is wrong,' said the man. 'You will be sorry in the end, for you will have to go, and you will give a bad example to your people.'
"'My people may do as they please,' said Cecilio. 'I give them no counsel. I tell them nothing. Whosoever wishes to go along with you, he may; but not I.' And Captain Cecilio walked away, oh, very, very sorrowful."
"And who went?" asked Mr. Page.
"My uncle, Mauricio, Ambrosio and Velasquez. They did not want to go; but someone must go. Soon they will choose, and it may be that once more we shall be permitted to harvest our crops at Cupa—but for the last time, Señor, for the last time."
* * * * *
And so it came to pass. Once again, and only once, were the harvests gathered; once more was heard the sound of the primitive flail in the granaries of Cupa. Then its children were bidden to make ready their goods and chattels, their horses and cattle, their women folk, their little ones and their dogs, weeping and wailing as they went reluctantly forth from their dismantled homes. Some among them there were—these the very old—who escaped to the mountains, and who were never heard of again.