But it is growing too dark for that, unless he
shouldfollow us on horseback, said the Bishop. His great diocese was stillan
unimaginable mystery to him.
They relapsed into the silence which was their
usual form ofintercourse. So far, Bishop Latour had been mainly employed on business
thattook him far away from his Vicarate. Thedesert, the mountains and mesas, were
continually reformed and re-coloured by the cloud shadows.
Inall his travels the Bishop had seen no country
like this. Francis Xavier with which she was familiar. The customaryomission,
therefore, seemed to be a matter of taste, not ignorance. Father Latour had looked
forward to meeting the scout. They reached the town of Mora a little after
midnight.
That, his guide said, was thepueblo of Ácoma. The
last timehe went out there, he was unable to get into the church at all. In the
morning the magistrate and his party arrived from Taos. There were many kinds of
false faces;Father Vaillants, for example, was kindly but too vehement.
She began distractedly snatching rags and wet socks
and dirtyclothes from the chairs.
Scaleshimself they captured on the road from Taos,
where he had gone tolook for his wife. He stood straight and turned to theGovernor
of Laguna, and his face underwent no change.
Father Latour had looked forward to meeting the
scout.
There was a note of pride in Jacintos voice very
flattering to theBishop.
At Ácoma, he said, you can see something very
holy.
She took her black shawl from a peg and followed
him.
The girl was not very skilful, hesaid, but she was
clean about her cooking.
Father Joseph was the first to find his tongue.
Father Joseph turned to him with vehemence.
But I guess it will be all right from now
on.
He couldat that time barely write his own
name.
They looked likegreat artificial plants, made of
shining silk.
Father Joseph turned to him with
vehemence.
Yet, hereflected, there was something very engaging
about Gallegos as aman. Hehad been sick out there, and the Fathers at one of the
missionstook care of him. The travellersmade a dry camp and rolled themselves in
their blankets. Vrain, a Canadian trapper who understoodSpanish better than
he.
The wise men tell us they are worlds, like ours,
Jacinto. Father Vaillant had forcedhis hand, but he was rather glad of
it.
Theold man was poor, and too soft-hearted to press
the pueblo peoplefor pesos. She began distractedly snatching rags and wet socks and
dirtyclothes from the chairs.
Every time you think of these mules, you willfeel
pride in your good deed.