"They think I have stolen it!" he exclaimed. "I have never been in the house of that woman. No one can say that they have ever seen me there."
"So I told them. But there is someone there who saw you yesterday near the ramada[E] next door," said Mauricio.
"What of that, uncle? Do I not go every other day with water to the people who live there? And is not the water kept under the ramada?"
"Very true. But there is much loud talking down there. She threatens to have you arrested."
"But you are the constable. You will not put me in the cuartel?"
"I must, if there is sworn out a warrant," replied Mauricio, sadly.
"Come, come," said Mr. Page, "it will not amount to that, I hope. Let us go down at once to the house where the money was stolen and see what they have to say—on what grounds, if any, they accuse you."
"That is the best thing to do," assented Mauricio. "It will show that you are not afraid."
The children stood amazed, grieved, and silent. Their busy minds imagined all sorts of dire possibilities for their friend Francisco.
Without a word Francisco followed the two older men, his head erect, his eyes fearless and unashamed. People looked at them in passing, nearly all in sympathy, for Francisco was a favorite with all the visitors save the very few friends of the missionary woman. The crowd had not diminished when they reached the house, and all eyes were turned toward them.