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 ment than an accomplishment. He tried the stranger in the Indian tongues of the several tribes spread up and down the California coast, winning only a deepening of the look of perplexity; tried him with medieval Latin, only to see a baffled look come into the man's eyes, and an expression of intense confusion rise in his face that seemed to cloud his intelligence like a smoke.

"We'll get nowhere with him at this," Padre Ignacio said. "What languages do you know, Captain del Valle?"

"Only Portuguese besides my own, father."

"If he understood one he would catch something of the other; that will not help us any. See how the poor creature looks from face to face, gentle giant that he seems to be, as if seeking even some modulation of expression that he can interpret. Let us give him the countenance of friends, at least."

"We have fed him, he has been kindly received," Don Geronimo said.

"You have done well, Geronimo. Let us have Father Mateo at him; he is master of many modern tongues."

Padre Ignacio went to the door to summon his coadjutor from his gossip with the travelers, and the enjoyment of his pipe, also, it must be confessed, for Padre Mateo was a man who wisely plucked as many of life's comforts, which he found blossoming along his way, as he could carry. He came quickly at his superior's summons, followed by several of the guests for the night, who had glimpsed