"William," protested his mother, sharply, pushing him away from her, "didn't I tell you that had nothing to do with it. There was no gold in that pocket-book."
The crowd laughed, and William, nothing daunted, went on:
"I think it's mighty funny when an Indian like him can throw twenty-dollar gold-pieces 'round."
Francisco looked at Mr. Page; that gentleman nodded.
"In order to clear the boy of any suspicion these ill-advised and malicious remarks may have aroused in the minds of his hearers," he said, "I will now state that I gave Francisco the gold-piece to have changed for me at the restaurant."
A white boy in Francisco's position would have faced his opponent with a triumphant smile; the Indian did not even look toward him. But he glanced gratefully at Mr. Page, and the face of Mauricio grew less grave and troubled than it had been.
"I should like to ask," said Mr. Page, once more turning to the missionary, "whether you may not have been mistaken as to where you placed your pocket-book? Have you looked everywhere about the house?"
"No, sir; I have not been mistaken," she replied. "I remember perfectly well having put it under the pillow. It is very easy to go through this house. There is not even a closet in it. Where could it be hidden?"
"Have you looked under the mattress?"