Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/101

 guez thought, watching the by-play with round eyes. He never before had seen any expression of the small sympathies of life common to other men between these severe brown-cassocked friars who went marching up and down the long white roads with rawhide sandals on their undaunted feet.

"Who sounds on the door?" Dominguez asked, starting at the rude note that broke the placidity of his hour.

"Shall I inquire, father?" the young man asked, pushing back to rise.

"Again!" said Dominguez, resentful of this rude hand that beat so loudly on his stout oak door. "No; I will go; permit me."

The dining-hall lay at one side of the broad entrance-way, into which it opened through a wide-spanned arch. Dominguez stood for a moment under this arch, grasping the velvet curtain, bending a little, straining in doubtful pose, as if he questioned the honesty of a man who came at such an hour. In a moment his hand was heard on the chain of the door.

The traveler inquired the direction and the distance to the Pueblo de Los Angeles; Dominguez replying politely as he was asked.

"Can I buy refreshment here?" the traveler inquired.

"No," said Dominguez, his caution struck down by the challenge to his hospitality. "Enter; this is not a tavern."

The stranger was brief with his thanks; he stood