But in Sarria's mind, the lout was an object of affection, sincere, unquestioning.

Thrice a week the priest, with a basket of provisions--cold ham, a bottle of wine, olives, loaves of bread, even a chicken or two--toiled over the interminable stretch of country between the Mission and his cabin.

Of late, during the rascal's sickness, these visits had been almost daily.

Hardly once did the priest leave the bedside that he did not slip a half-dollar into the palm of his wife or oldest daughter.

And this was but one case out of many.
His kindliness toward animals was the same.