This in front of a large building, just discernible in the distance, its outlines with difficulty traceable under the fast gathering gloom of the twilight.
But the savages who survey it from the bluff have seen that building before, and know all about it; know it to be one of the abandoned misiones of San Saba; as, also, why those vehicles are now coming to a stop before its walls.
While watching these, but few words are exchanged between them, and only in an under tone. Much or loud talk would not be in keeping with their Indian character. Still enough passes in their muttered speeches—observable also in the expression of their features—for any one hearing the first, or seeing the last, to predict danger to the colony of Colonel Armstrong. If looks count for aught, or words can be relied on the chances seem as if the old San Saba mission-house, long in ruins, may remain so yet longer.
Chapter Forty Five.
A suspicious surveillance.
The ancient monastery, erst the abode of Spanish monks, now become the dwelling-place of the ci-devant Mississippi planter, calls for a word of description.
It stands on the right side of the river, several hundred yards from the bank, on a platform slightly elevated above the general level of the surrounding terrain.
The site has been chosen with an eye to the pleasant and picturesque—that keen look-out towards temporal enjoyment, which at all times, and in all countries, has characterised these spiritual teachers of the heathen.