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 me harder the next time, as if God had told him what I had done, and made a fool of me."

"I'm not going to kill him, I tell you Cristóbal; I'm not going to lift my hand against Don Geronimo again."

Cristóbal was silent a long time. After a while he laid his hand on Juan's shoulder again, firmly, the pressure of understanding in his touch.

"You will let him live because of Doña Magdalena," he said. "A man could almost love his enemy when he has a wife like Doña Magdalena. She is a gentle lady."

"I have heard her speak kindly of you, Cristóbal."

"But nobody but you, Juan, and Padre Ignacio, ever stood between me and a blow. Will you go to San Fernando tonight?"

"Not tonight, Cristóbal; the soldiers might be expecting me to come back tonight. In the morning we will go farther back among the mountains, and tomorrow night I will return."

Whether Sergeant Olivera had failed to pick up their trail after they left the dusty highway, or whether he had abandoned the pursuit in the early conviction of its utter fatuity, Juan had no choice of conclusion. No soldier had come in sight from the high look-out they kept the next day. At evening Juan was ready for his return to the mission.

Cristóbal was to remain at that place in the mountains for three days, unless forced to flee onward from the soldiers, waiting Juan's return. At the