"Dost thou remember," said the girl, "it was here,"
pointing to an embayed pool in the dark current, "that I baptized thee,
when Father Pedro first brought thee here, when we both played at being
monks? They were dear old days, for Father Pedro would trust no one with
thee but me, and always kept us near him."
"Aye and he said I would be profaned by the touch of any other, and so
himself always washed and dressed me, and made my bed near his."
"And took thee away again, and I saw thee not till thou camest with
Antonio, over a year ago, to the cattle branding. And now, my Pancho, I
may never see thee again." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed
aloud.
The little acolyte tried to comfort her, but with such abstraction of
manner and inadequacy of warmth that she hastily removed his caressing
hand.
"But why? What has happened?" he asked eagerly.
The girl's manner had changed. Her eyes flashed, and she put her brown
fist on her waist and began to rock from side to side.
"But I'll not go," she said viciously.
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