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 government, which pays adventurous men a bonus and gives every one of them a gun and a leather shield to stop the Indian's arrows, inciting them to come to California and make settlements. It is a sad mistake."

"Of course, I don't know anything about the situation," Juan Molinero said, speaking slowly, as if his astonishing discovery had left him few words.

Padre Mateo clambered up the steep embankment, his brown gown lifted to disencumber his feet, discovering bare legs and sandals beneath. He stood beside the tall wayfarer, and stretched his hand out over the valley.

"It is a fair scene," he said, his pride in it well justified; "I doubt if the earth can show a fairer. But there are men who would overturn it all, Juan, snatch these lands that we have improved from rough wild places from us, turn all our poor Indians away to shift for themselves, and bring a deluge of sorrow where there is now contentment and prosperity."

"You don't tell me?" Juan exclaimed, quickly interested in this revelation. "What is it? Politics?"

"You are quick, Juan Molinero," Padre Mateo approved, but with grave face, slow-nodding head; "you are a man who can see through a wall. Yes, it is a matter of politics. They are beginning to talk secularization of the mission properties in California, of turning them over to the state, so the work of our hands may become the profit of design-