New Orleans,                   504

Thus the total number of students--studying with professors of the
Society of Jesus under one university system in all parts of the known
world--is 52,692.

There has been no going back. Fifty years ago, when the groundwork of
rebuilding the 700 institutions that had been destroyed by the
suppression had to be commenced all over again, there were but 15,000,
to-day there are 52,692.

St. Ignatius was born in 1491. The first College of Coimbra was
founded in 1542. From 1542 to 1773 is a period of 231 years. The
suppression lasted from 1773 to 1814 (41 years). The new work
continued from 1814 to 1899, a period of 85 years.

Among the colleges founded in the chief cities of the world are Loyola
College, at Loyola in Spain; St. Omer's College, in Belgium, the link
between Europe and America; Stonyhurst College, in England; Clongoes
Wood, Ireland; Mangalore, in India, the only first-grade college in
the district; Melbourne, Australia; St. Ignatius College, California,
the pioneer of Pacific coast missions and of the Rocky Mountains; at
Kansas City the only boarding college in the far West; St. Ignatius,
at Cleveland, Ohio, one of the latest Western colleges; Spring Hill
College, at Mobile, Alabama; Georgetown College, at Washington, D.C.;
Holy Cross College, at Worcester, Massachusetts; St. John's College,
at Fordham, New York; St. Francis Xavier's College, in New York City.

In the proportion mentioned above, in the same period (that is, a
period of 231 years), there will be in the Jesuit colleges 263,690
pupils.

St. Ignatius died July 31, 1556. He was sixty-five years of age. At
the age of thirty he hung up his sword at Montserrat, and, with ready
mind and heart and pen, in thirty-five years he achieved the gigantic
work of the founding and developing the Order. The educational work
was projected and advanced in a brief period of fifteen years, from
1542 to 1556.

He was a man of prudence and deliberation, and of unswerving decision.

Vigilant and patient, whenever he appeared account had to be taken of
the man; and so with his Order, whenever it appears it is to be
recognized either by foes to oppose it or friends to love it and
forward its work. It has its churches--its missions--its colleges. In
its churches it is faithful to the teaching of Christ and His Church,
loyal ever to the Vicar of Christ; in its missions, unbounded in zeal
and personal self-sacrifice; in its colleges, it aims ever at the
solid and thorough training of complete Christian education. Ignatius
of Loyola made his Order to go on without him, and it goes on just as
he made it.

           PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK


cattle and horses which intermingled with them in blind and unceasing
movement across the Plaza and up the hilly street, and seemingly as
incapable of self-government, were alternately dispersed and stampeded
or allowed to gather again as occasion required. Some of these
heterogeneous bands were afterwards found--the revolution
accomplished--gazing stupidly on the sea, or ruminating in bovine
wantonness on the glacis before the Presidio.

Eleanor Keene, who with her countrywomen had been hurried to the refuge
of the Mission, was more disturbed and excited at the prospect of
meeting Hurlstone again than by any terror of the insurrection. But
Hurlstone was not there, and Father Esteban received her with a coldness
she could not attribute entirely to her countrymen's supposed sympathy
with the insurgents. When Richard Keene, who would not leave his sister
until he had seen her safe under the Mission walls, ventured at her
suggestion to ask after the American recluse, Father Esteban replied
dryly that, being a Christian gentleman, Hurlstone was the only one who
had the boldness to seek out the American filibuster Perkins, on his
own ship, and remonstrate with him for his unholy crusade. For the old
priest had already become aware of Hurlstone's blunder, and he hated
Eleanor as the primary cause of the trouble. But for her, Diego would be
still with him in this emergency.

"Never mind, Nell," said Dick, noticing the disappointed eyes of his
sister as they parted, "you'll all be safe here until we return. Between
you and me, Banks, Brimmer, and I think that Brace and Winslow have gone
too far in this matter, and we're going to stop it, unless the whole
thing is over now, as they say."

"Don't believe that," said Crosby. "It's like their infernal
earthquakes; there's always a second shock, and a tidal wave to follow.
I pity Brace, Winslow, and Perkins if they get caught in it."

There seemed to be some reason for his skepticism, for later the calm of
the Mission Garden was broken upon by the monotonous tread of banded men
on the shell-strewn walks, and the door of the refectory opened to
the figure of Senor Perkins. A green silk sash across his breast, a
gold-laced belt, supporting a light dress-sword and a pair of pistols,
buckled around the jaunty waist of his ordinary black frock-coat, were
his scant martial suggestions. But his hat, albeit exchanged for a soft
felt one, still reposed on the back of his benevolent head, and seemed
to accent more than ever the contrast between his peaceful shoulders
and the military smartness of his lower figure. He bowed with easy
politeness to the assembled fugitives; but before he could address them,
Father Esteban had risen to his feet,--

"I thought that this house, at least, was free from the desecrating
footsteps of lawlessness and impiety," said the priest sternly. "How
dare YOU enter here?"

"Nothing but the desire to lend my assistance to the claims of beauty,
innocence, helplessness, and--if you will allow me to add," with a low
bow to the priest--"sanctity, caused this intrusion. For I regret to say
that, through the ill-advised counsels of some of my fellow-patriots,
the Indian tribes attached to this Mission are in revolt, and threaten
even this sacred building."

"It is false!" said Father Esteban indignantly. "Even under the accursed
manipulation of your emissaries, the miserable heathen would not dare to
raise a parricidal hand against the Church that fostered him!"

Senor Perkins smiled gently, but sadly.

"Your belief, reverend sir, does you infinite credit. But, to save
time, let me give way to a gentleman who, I believe, possesses your
confidence. He will confirm my statement."

He drew aside, and allowed Hurlstone, who had been standing unperceived
behind, to step forward. The Padre uttered an exclamation of pleasure.
Miss Keene colored quickly. Hurlstone cast a long and lingering glance
at her, which seemed to the embarrassed girl full of a new, strange
meaning, and then advanced quickly with outstretched hands towards
Father Esteban.

"He speaks truly," he said, hurriedly, "and in the interests of humanity
alone. The Indians have been tampered with treacherously, against his
knowledge and consent. He only seeks now to prevent the consequences of
this folly by placing you and these ladies out of reach of harm aboard
of the Excelsior."

"A very proper and excellent idea," broke in Mrs. Brimmer, with genteel
precision. "You see these people evidently recognize the fact of Mr.
Brimmer's previous ownership of the Excelsior, and the respect that is
due to him. I, for one, shall accept the offer, and insist upon Miss
Chubb accompanying me."

"I shall be charmed to extend the hospitality of the Excelsior to you on
any pretext," said the Senor gallantly, "and, indeed, should insist upon
personally accompanying you and my dear friends Mrs. Markham and Miss
Keene; but, alas! I am required elsewhere. I leave," he continued,
turning towards Hurlstone, who was already absorbed in a whispered
consultation with Padre Esteban--"I leave a sufficient escort with you
to protect your party to the boats which have brought us here. You will
take them to the Excelsior, and join me with the ship off Todos Santos
in the morning. Adieu, my friends! Good-night, and farewell!"

The priest made a vehement movement of protestation, but he was checked
by Hurlstone, as, with a low bow, Senor Perkins passed out into the
darkness. The next moment his voice was heard raised in command, and
the measured tramp of his men gradually receded and was lost in the
distance.

"Does he think," said the priest indignantly, "that I, Padre Esteban,
would desert my sacred trust, and leave His Holy Temple a prey to
sacrilegious trespass? Never, while I live, Diego! Call him back and
tell him so!"

"Rather listen to me, Father Esteban," said the young man earnestly.
"I have a plan by which this may be avoided. From my knowledge of these
Indians, I am convinced that they have been basely tricked and cajoled
by some one. I believe that they are still amenable to reason and
argument, and I am so certain that I am ready to go down among them and
make the attempt. The old Chief and part of his band are still encamped
on the shore; we could hear them as we passed in the boats. I will go
and meet them. If I succeed in bringing them to reason I will return; if
I find them intractable, I will at least divert their attention from the
Mission long enough for you to embark these ladies with their escort,
which you will do at the end of two hours if I do not return."

"In two hours?" broke in Mrs. Brimmer, in sharp protest. "I positively
object. I certainly understood that Senor Perkins' invitation, which,
under the circumstances, I shall consider equal to a command from Mr.
Brimmer, was to be accepted at once and without delay; and I certainly
shall not leave Miss Chubb exposed to imminent danger for two hours to
meet the caprice of an entire stranger to Mr. Brimmer."

"I am willing to stay with Father Esteban, if he will let me," said
Eleanor Keene quietly, "for I have faith in Mr. Hurlstone's influence
and courage, and believe he will be successful."

The young man thanked her with another demonstrative look that brought
the warm blood to her cheek.

"Well," said Mrs. Markham promptly; "I suppose if Nell stays I must
see the thing through and stay with her--even if I haven't orders from
Jimmy."

"There is no necessity that either Mr. or Mrs. Brimmer should be
disobeyed in their wishes," said Hurlstone grimly. "Luckily there are
two boats; Mrs. Brimmer and Miss Chubb can take one of them with half
the escort, and proceed at once to the Excelsior. I will ride with them
as far as the boat. And now," he continued, turning to the old priest,
with sparkling eyes, "I have only to ask your blessing, and the good
wishes of these ladies, to go forth on my mission of peace. If I am
successful," he added, with a light laugh, "confess that a layman and
a heretic may do some service for the Church." As the old man laid his
half detaining, half benedictory hands upon his shoulders, the young man
seized the opportunity to whisper in his ear, "Remember your promise to
tell her ALL I have told you," and, with an other glance at Miss Keene,
he marshalled Mrs. Brimmer and Miss Chubb before him, and hurried them
to the boat.

Miss Keene looked after him with a vague felicity in the change that
seemed to have come on him, a change that she could as little account
for as her own happiness. Was it the excitement of danger that had
overcome his reserve, and set free his compressed will and energy? She
longed for her brother to see him thus--alert, strong, and chivalrous.
In her girlish faith, she had no fear for his safety; he would conquer,
he would succeed; he would come back to them victorious! Looking up from
her happy abstraction, at the side of Mrs. Markham, who had calmly gone
to sleep in an arm-chair, she saw Father Esteban's eyes fixed upon her.
With a warning gesture of the hand towards Mrs. Markham, he rose, and,
going to the door of the sacristy, beckoned to her. The young girl
noiselessly crossed the room and followed him into the sanctuary.

Half an hour later, and while Mrs. Markham was still asleep, Father
Esteban appeared at the door of the sacristy ostentatiously taking
snuff, and using a large red handkerchief to wipe his more than usually
humid eyes. Eleanor Keene, with her chin resting on her hand, remained
sitting as he had left her, with her abstracted eyes fixed vacantly on
the lamp before the statue of the Virgin and the half-lit gloom of the
nave.

Padre Esteban had told her ALL! She now knew Hurlstone's history even
as he had hesitatingly imparted it to the old priest in this very
church--perhaps upon the very seat where she sat. She knew the peace
that he had sought for and found within these walls, broken only by his
passion for her! She knew his struggles against the hopelessness of this
new-born love, even the desperate remedy that had been adopted against
herself, and the later voluntary exile of her lover. She knew
the providential culmination of his trouble in the news brought
unconsciously by Perkins, which, but a few hours ago, he had verified
by the letters, records, and even the certificate of death that had thus
strangely been placed in his hands! She knew all this so clearly now,
that, with the instinct of a sympathetic nature, she even fancied she
had heard it before. She knew that all the obstacles to an exchange
of their affection had been removed; that her lover only waited his
opportunity to hear from her own lips the answer that was even now
struggling at her heart. And yet she hesitated and drew back, half
frightened in the presence of her great happiness. How she longed,
and yet dreaded, to meet him! What if anything should have happened to
him?--what if he should be the victim of some treachery?--what if he did
not come?--what if?--"Good heavens! what was that?"

She was near the door of the sacristy, gazing into the dim and shadowy
church. Either she was going mad, or else the grotesque Indian hangings
of the walls were certainly moving towards her. She rose in speechless
terror, as what she had taken for an uncouthly swathed and draped
barbaric pillar suddenly glided to the window. Crouching against the
wall, she crept breathlessly towards the entrance to the garden. Casting
a hurried glance above her, she saw the open belfry that was illuminated
by the misty radiance of the moon, darkly shadowed by hideously
gibbering faces that peered at her through the broken tracery. With a
cry of horror she threw open the garden-door; but the next moment was
swallowed up in the tumultuous tide of wild and half naked Indians who
surged against the walls of the church, and felt herself lifted from her
feet, with inarticulate cries, and borne along the garden. Even in her
mortal terror, she could recognize that the cries were not those of
rage, but of vacant satisfaction; that although she was lifted on lithe
shoulders, the grasp of her limbs was gentle, and the few dark faces she
could see around her were glistening in childlike curiosity. Presently
she felt herself placed upon the back of a mule, that seemed to be
swayed hither and thither in the shifting mass, and the next moment
the misty, tossing cortege moved forward with a new and more definite
purpose. She called aloud for Father Esteban and Mrs. Markham; her voice
appeared to flow back upon her from the luminous wall of fog that
closed around her. Then the inarticulate, irregular outcries took upon
themselves a measured rhythm, the movement of the mass formed itself
upon the monotonous chant, the intervals grew shorter, the mule broke
into a trot, and then the whole vast multitude fell into a weird,
rhythmical, jogging quick step at her side.

Whatever was the intent of this invasion of the Mission and her own
strange abduction, she was relieved by noticing that they were going in
the same direction as that taken by Hurlstone an hour before. Either he
was cognizant of their movements, and, being powerless to prevent their
attack on the church, had stipulated they were to bring her to him in
safety, or else he was calculating to intercept them on the way. The fog
prevented her from forming any estimation of the numbers that surrounded
her, or if the Padre and Mrs. Markham were possibly preceding her as
captives in the vanguard. She felt the breath of the sea, and knew they
were traveling along the shore; the monotonous chant and jogging motion
gradually dulled her active terror to an apathetic resignation, in which
occasionally her senses seemed to swoon and swim in the dreamy radiance
through which they passed; at times it seemed a dream or nightmare with
which she was hopelessly struggling; at times she was taking part in an
unhallowed pageant, or some heathen sacrificial procession of which she
was the destined victim.

She had no consciousness of how long the hideous journey lasted. Her
benumbed senses were suddenly awakened by a shock; the chant had ceased,
the moving mass in which she was imbedded rolled forward once more as
if by its own elasticity, and then receded again with a jar that almost
unseated her. Then the inarticulate murmur was overborne by a voice. It
was HIS! She turned blindly towards it; but before she could utter the
cry that rose to her lips, she was again lifted from the saddle, carried
forward, and gently placed upon what seemed to be a moss-grown bank.
Opening her half swimming eyes she recognized the Indian cross. The
crowd seemed to recede before her. Her eyes closed again as a strong arm
passed around her waist.

"Speak to me, Miss Keene--Eleanor--my darling!" said Hurlstone's voice.
"O my God! they have killed her!"

With an effort she moved her head and tried to smile. Their eyes, and
then their lips met; she fainted.

When she struggled to her senses again, she was lying in the
stern-sheets of the Excelsior's boat, supported on Mrs. Markham's
shoulder. For an instant the floating veil of fog around her, and the
rhythmical movement of the boat, seemed a part of her mysterious ride,
and she raised her head with a faint cry for Hurlstone.

"It's all right, my dear," said Mrs. Markham, soothingly; "he's ashore
with the Padre, and everything else is all right too. But it's rather
ridiculous to think that those idiotic Indians believed the only way
they could show Mr. Hurlstone that they meant us no harm was to drag
us all up to THEIR Mission, as they call that half heathen cross of
theirs--for safety against--who do you think, dear?--the dreadful
AMERICANS! And imagine all the while the Padre and I were just behind
you, bringing up the rear of the procession--only they wouldn't let us
join you because they wanted to show you special honor as"--she sank her
voice to a whisper in Eleanor's ear--"as the future Mrs. Hurlstone! It
appears they must have noticed something about you two, the last time
you were there, my dear. And--to think--YOU never told me anything about
it!"

When they reached the Excelsior, they found that Mrs. Brimmer, having
already settled herself in the best cabin, was inclined to extend the
hospitalities of the ship with the air of a hostess. But the arrival of
Hurlstone at midnight with some delegated authority from Senor Perkins,
and the unexpected getting under way of the ship, disturbed her
complacency.

"We are going through the channel into the bay of Todos Santos," was the
brief reply vouchsafed her by Hurlstone.

"But why can't we remain here and wait for Mr. Brimmer?" she asked
indignantly.

"Because," responded Hurlstone grimly, "the Excelsior is expected off
the Presidio to-morrow morning to aid the insurgents."

"You don't mean to say that Miss Chubb and myself are to be put in the
attitude of arraying ourselves against the constituted authorities--and,
perhaps, Mr. Brimmer himself?" asked Mrs. Brimmer, in genuine alarm.

"It looks so," said Hurlstone, a little maliciously; "but, no doubt,
your husband and the Senor will arrange it amicably."

To Mrs. Markham and Miss Keene he explained more satisfactorily that
the unexpected disaffection of the Indians had obliged Perkins to so far
change his plans as to disembark his entire force from the Excelsior,
and leave her with only the complement of men necessary to navigate her
through the channel of Todos Santos, where she would peacefully await
his orders, or receive his men in case of defeat.

Nevertheless, as the night was nearly spent, Mrs. Markham and Eleanor
preferred to await the coming day on deck, and watch the progress of the
Excelsior through the mysterious channel. In a few moments the barque
began to feel the combined influence of the tide and the slight morning
breeze, and, after rounding an invisible point, she presently rose and
fell on the larger ocean swell. The pilot, whom Hurlstone recognized
as the former third mate of the Excelsior, appeared to understand the
passage perfectly; and even Hurlstone and the ladies, who had through
eight months' experience become accustomed to the luminous obscurity
of Todos Santos, could detect the faint looming of the headland at the
entrance. The same soothing silence, even the same lulling of the unseen
surf, which broke in gentle undulations over the bar, and seemed to lift
the barque in rocking buoyancy over the slight obstruction, came back to
them as on the day of their fateful advent. The low orders of the pilot,
the cry of the leadsman in the chains, were but a part of the restful
past.

Under the combined influence of the hour and the climate, the
conversation fell into monosyllables, and Mrs. Markham dozed. The lovers
sat silently together, but the memory of a kiss was between them. It
spanned the gulf of the past with an airy bridge, over which their
secret thoughts and fancies passed and repassed with a delicious
security; henceforth they could not flee from that memory, even if they
wished; they read it in each other's lightest glance; they felt it
in the passing touch of each other's hands; it lingered, with vague
tenderness, on the most trivial interchange of thought. Yet they spoke a
little of the future. Eleanor believed that her brother would not object
to their union; he had spoken of entering into business at Todos Santos,
and perhaps when peace and security were restored they might live
together. Hurlstone did not tell her that a brief examination of his
wife's papers had shown him that the property he had set aside for
her maintenance, and from which she had regularly drawn an income, had
increased in value, and left him a rich man. He only pressed her hand,
and whispered that her wishes should be his. They had become tenderly
silent again, as the Excelsior, now fairly in the bay, appeared to be
slowly drifting, with listless sails and idle helm, in languid search of
an anchorage. Suddenly they were startled by a cry from the lookout.

"Sail ho!"

There was an incredulous start on the deck. The mate sprang into the
fore-rigging with an oath of protestation. But at the same moment the
tall masts and spars of a vessel suddenly rose like a phantom out of the
fog at their side. The half disciplined foreign crew uttered a cry
of rage and trepidation, and huddled like sheep in the waist, with
distracted gestures; even the two men at the wheel forsook their post to
run in dazed terror to the taffrail. Before the mate could restore order
to this chaos, the Excelsior had drifted, with a scarcely perceptible
concussion, against the counter of the strange vessel. In an instant a
dozen figures appeared on its bulwarks, and dropped unimpeded upon the
Excelsior's deck. As the foremost one approached the mate, the latter
shrank back in consternation.

"Captain Bunker!"

"Yes," said the figure, advancing with a mocking laugh; "Captain Bunker
it is. Captain Bunker, formerly of this American barque Excelsior, and
now of the Mexican ship La Trinidad. Captain Bunker ez larnt every
foot of that passage in an open boat last August, and didn't forget it
yesterday in a big ship! Captain Bunker ez has just landed a company
of dragoons to relieve the Presidio. What d'ye say to that, Mr.
M'Carthy--eh?"

"I say," answered M'Carthy, raising his voice with a desperate effort to
recover his calmness, "I say that Perkins landed with double that number
of men yesterday around that point, and that he'll be aboard here in
half an hour to make you answer for this insult to his ship and his
Government."

"His Government!" echoed Bunker, with a hoarser laugh; "hear him!--HIS
Government! His Government died at four o'clock this morning, when
his own ringleaders gave him up to the authorities. Ha! Why, this yer
revolution is played out, old man; and Generalissimo Leonidas Perkins is
locked up in the Presidio."

CHAPTER IX.

LIBERATED.

The revolution was, indeed, ended. The unexpected arrival of a relieving
garrison in the bay of Todos Santos had completed what the dissensions
in the insurgents' councils had begun; the discontents, led by Brace and
Winslow, had united with the Government against Perkins and his aliens;
but a compromise had been effected by the treacherous giving up of the
Liberator himself in return for an amnesty granted to his followers.
The part that Bunker had played in bringing about this moral catastrophe
was, however, purely adventitious. When he had recovered his health, and
subsequent events had corroborated the truth of his story, the Mexican
Government, who had compromised with Quinquinambo, was obliged to
recognize his claims by offering him command of the missionary ship, and
permission to rediscover the channel, the secret of which had been lost
for half a century to the Government. He had arrived at the crucial
moment when Perkins' command were scattered along the seashore, and the
dragoons had invested Todos Santos without opposition.

Such was the story substantially told to Hurlstone and confirmed on his
debarkation with the ladies at Todos Santos, the Excelsior being now in
the hands of the authorities. Hurlstone did not hesitate to express to
Padre Esteban his disgust at the treachery which had made a scapegoat of
Senor Perkins. But to his surprise the cautious priest only shrugged his
shoulders as he took a complacent pinch of snuff.

"Have a care, Diego! You are of necessity grateful to this man for
the news he has brought--nay, more, for possibly being the instrument
elected by Providence to precipitate the denouement of that miserable
woman's life--but let it not close your eyes to his infamous political
career. I admit that he was opposed to the revolt of the heathen against
us, but it was his emissaries and his doctrines that poisoned with
heresy the fountains from which they drank. Enough! Be grateful! but do
not expect ME to intercede for Baal and Ashtaroth!"

"Intercede!" echoed Hurlstone, alarmed at the sudden sacerdotal hardness
that had overspread the old priest's face. "Surely the Council will
not be severe with the man who was betrayed into their power by others
equally guilty?"

Padre Esteban avoided Hurlstone's eyes as he answered with affected
coolness,--"Quien sabe? There will be expulsados, no doubt. The
Excelsior, which is confiscated, will be sent to Mexico with them."

"I must see Senor Perkins," said Hurlstone suddenly.

The priest hesitated.

"When?" he asked cautiously.

"At once."

"Good." He wrote a hurried line on a piece of paper, folded it, sealed
it, and gave it to Hurlstone. "You will hand that to the Comandante. He
will give you access to the prisoner."

In less than half an hour Hurlstone presented himself before the
Commander. The events of the last twenty-four hours had evidently
affected Don Miguel, for although he received Hurlstone courteously,
there was a singular reflection of the priest's harshness in his face as
he glanced over the missive. He took out his watch.

"I give you ten minutes with the prisoner, Don Diego. More, I cannot."

A little awed by the manner of the Commander, Hurlstone bowed and
followed him across the courtyard. It was filled with soldiers, and
near the gateway a double file of dragoons, with loaded carbines, were
standing at ease. Two sentries were ranged on each side of an open door
which gave upon the courtyard. The Commander paused before it, and with
a gesture invited him to enter. It was a large square apartment, lighted
only by the open door and a grated enclosure above it. Seated in his
shirtsleeves, before a rude table, Senor Perkins was quietly writing.
The shadow of Hurlstone's figure falling across his paper caused him to
look up.

Whatever anxiety Hurlstone had begun to feel, it was quickly dissipated
by the hearty, affable, and even happy greeting of the prisoner.

"Ah! what! my young friend Hurlstone! Again an unexpected pleasure," he
said, extending his white hands. "And again you find me wooing the Muse,
in, I fear, hesitating numbers." He pointed to the sheet of paper before
him, which showed some attempts at versification. "But I confess to a
singular fascination in the exercise of poetic composition, in instants
of leisure like this--a fascination which, as a man of imagination
yourself, you can appreciate."

"And I am sorry to find you here, Senor Perkins," began Hurlstone
frankly; "but I believe it will not be for long."

"My opinion," said the Senor, with a glance of gentle contemplation at
the distant Comandante, "as far as I may express it, coincides with your
own."

"I have come," continued Hurlstone earnestly, "to offer you my services.
I am ready," he raised his voice, with a view of being overheard, "to
bear testimony that you had no complicity in the baser part of the late
conspiracy,--the revolt of the savages, and that you did your best to
counteract the evil, although in doing so you have sacrificed yourself.
I shall claim the right to speak from my own knowledge of the Indians
and from their admission to me that they were led away by the vague
representations of Martinez, Brace, and Winslow."

"Pardon--pardon me," said Senor Perkins deprecatingly, "you are
mistaken. My general instructions, no doubt, justified these young
gentlemen in taking, I shall not say extreme, but injudicious measures."
He glanced meaningly in the direction of the Commander, as if to
warn Hurlstone from continuing, and said gently, "But let us talk
of something else. I thank you for your gracious intentions, but
you remember that we agreed only yesterday that you knew nothing of
politics, and did not concern yourself with them. I do not know but you
are wise. Politics and the science of self-government, although dealing
with general principles, are apt to be defined by the individual
limitations of the enthusiast. What is good for HIMSELF he too
often deems is applicable to the general public, instead of wisely
understanding that what is good for THEM must be good for himself. But,"
said the Senor lightly, "we are again transgressing. We were to choose
another topic. Let it be yourself, Mr. Hurlstone. You are looking
well, sir; indeed, I may say I never saw you looking so well! Let me
congratulate you. Health is the right of youth. May you keep both!"

He shook Hurlstone's hand again with singular fervor.

There was a slight bustle and commotion at the door of the guard-room,
and the Commander's attention was called in that direction. Hurlstone
profited by the opportunity to say in a hurried whisper:

"Tell me what I can do for you;" and he hesitated to voice his renewed
uneasiness--"tell me if--if--if your case is--urgent!"

Senor Perkins lifted his shoulders and smiled with grateful benevolence.

"You have already promised me to deliver those papers and manuscripts
of my deceased friend, and to endeavor to find her relations. I do not
think it is urgent, however."

"I do not mean that," said Hurlstone eagerly. "I"--but Perkins stopped
him with a sign that the Commander was returning.

Don Miguel approached them with disturbed and anxious looks.

"I have yielded to the persuasions of two ladies, Dona Leonor and the
Senora Markham, to ask you to see them for a moment," he said to Senor
Perkins. "Shall it be so? I have told them the hour is nearly spent."

"You have told them--NOTHING MORE?" asked the Senor, in a whisper
unheard by Hurlstone.

"No."

"Let them come, then."

The Commander made a gesture to the sentries at the guard-room, who drew
back to allow Mrs. Markham and Eleanor to pass. A little child, one of
Eleanor's old Presidio pupils, who, recognizing her, had followed her
into the guard-room, now emerged with her, and momentarily disconcerted
at the presence of the Commander, ran, with the unerring instinct of
childhood, to the Senor for protection. The filibuster smiled, and
lifting the child with a paternal gesture to his shoulder by one hand,
he extended the other to the ladies.

"The Commander," said Mrs. Markham briskly, "says it's against the
rules; that visiting time is up; and you've already got a friend with
you, and all that sort of thing; but I told him that I was bound to see
you, if only to say that if there's any meanness going on, Susannah and
James Markham ain't in it! No! But we're going to see you put right and
square in the matter; and if we can't do it here, we'll do it, if we
have to follow you to Mexico!--that's all!"

"And I," said Eleanor, grasping the Senor's hand, and half blushing as
she glanced at Hurlstone, "see that I have already a friend here who
will help me to put in action all the sympathy I feel."

Senor Perkins drew himself up, and cast a faint look of pride towards
the Commander.

"To HEAR such assurances from beautiful and eloquent lips like those
before me," he said, with his old oratorical wave of the hand, but a
passing shadow across his mild eyes, "is more than sufficient. In my
experience of life I have been favored, at various emergencies, by the
sympathy and outspoken counsel of your noble sex; the last time by Mrs.
Euphemia M'Corkle, of Peoria, Illinois, a lady of whom you have heard me
speak--alas! now lately deceased. A few lines at present lying on yonder
table--a tribute to her genius--will be forwarded to you, dear Mrs.
Markham. But let us change the theme. You are looking well--and you,
too, Miss Keene. From the roses that bloom on your cheeks--nourished
by the humid air of Todos Santos--I am gratified in thinking you have
forgiven me your enforced detention here."

At a gesture from the Commander he ceased, stepped back, bowed gravely,
and the ladies recognized that their brief audience had terminated. As
they passed through the gateway, looking back they saw Perkins still
standing with the child on his shoulder and smiling affably upon them.
Then the two massive doors of the gateway swung to with a crash, the
bolts were shot, and the courtyard was impenetrable.

A few moments later, the three friends had passed the outermost angle of
the fortifications, and were descending towards the beach. By the time
they had reached the sands they had fallen into a vague silence.

A noise like the cracking and fall of some slight scaffolding behind
them arrested their attention. Hurlstone turned quickly. A light smoke,
drifting from the courtyard, was mingling with the fog. A faint cry of
"Dios y Libertad!" rose with it.

With a hurried excuse to his companions, Hurlstone ran rapidly back, and
reached the gate as it slowly rolled upon its hinges to a file of men
that issued from the courtyard. The first object that met his eyes
was the hat of Senor Perkins lying on the ground near the wall, with a
terrible suggestion in its helpless and pathetic vacuity. A few paces
further lay its late owner, with twenty Mexican bullets in his breast,
his benevolent forehead bared meekly to the sky, as if even then mutely
appealing to the higher judgment. He was dead! The soul of the Liberator
of Quinquinambo, and of various other peoples more or less distressed
and more or less ungrateful, was itself liberated!

With the death of Senor Perkins ended the Crusade of the Excelsior.
Under charge of Captain Bunker the vessel was sent to Mazatlan by the
authorities, bearing the banished and proscribed Americans, Banks,
Brace, Winslow, and Crosby; and, by permission of the Council, also
their friends, Markham and Brimmer, and the ladies, Mrs. Brimmer, Chubb,
and Markham. Hurlstone and Miss Keene alone were invited to remain, but,
on later representations, the Council graciously included Richard Keene
in the invitation, with the concession of the right to work the mines
and control the ranches he and Hurlstone had purchased from their
proscribed countrymen. The complacency of the Council of Todos Santos
may be accounted for when it is understood that on the day the firm
of Hurlstone & Keene was really begun under the title of Mr. and Mrs.
Hurlstone, Richard had prevailed upon the Alcalde to allow him to add
the piquant Dona Isabel also to the firm under the title of Mrs. Keene.
Although the port of Todos Santos was henceforth open to all commerce,
the firm of Hurlstone & Keene long retained the monopoly of trade, and
was a recognized power of intelligent civilization and honest progress
on the Pacific coast. And none contributed more to that result than the
clever and beautiful hostess of Excelsior Lodge, the charming country
home of James Hurlstone, Esq., senior partner of the firm. Under the
truly catholic shelter of its veranda Padre Esteban and the heretic
stranger mingled harmoniously, and the dissensions of local and central
Government were forgotten.

"I said that you were a dama de grandeza, you remember," said the
youthful Mrs. Keene to Mrs. Hurlstone, "and, you see, you are!"

End of Project Gutenberg's The Crusade of the Excelsior, by Bret Harte