"Naturally, she was anxious to see the wonderful object. She saw
it, and she saw the holy Fathers, and they converted her against
the superstitious heathenish wishes of her husband. And more than
that, they came here--"
"And converted the land also; is it not so? It was a lovely site
for a mission," interpolated Garnier, politely.
"They built a mission and brought as many of Koorotora's people as
they could into the sacred fold. They brought them in in a queer
fashion sometimes, it is said; dragoons from the Presidio, Captain
Carroll, lassoing them and bringing them in at the tails of their
horses. All except Koorotora. He defied them; he cursed them and
his wife in his wicked heathenish fashion, and said that they too
should lose the mission through the treachery of some woman, and
that the coyote should yet prowl through the ruined walls of the
church. The holy Fathers pitied the wicked man--and built
themselves a lovely garden. Look at that pear-tree! There is all
that is left of it!"
She turned with a mock heroic gesture, and pointed her fan to the
pear-tree. Garnier lifted his hands in equally simulated wonder.
A sudden recollection of the coyote of the morning recurred to
Carroll uneasily. "And the Indians," he said, with an effort to
shake off the feeling; "they, too, have vanished."
"All that remained of them is in yonder mound. It is the grave of
the chief and his people. He never lived to see the fulfillment of
his prophecy.
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