The outlines of the mountain beyond were already lost in the fog.

Father Pedro turned into the refectory.
"Antonio." A strong flavor of leather, onions, and stable preceded the entrance of a short, stout _vaquero_ from the little _patio_.
"Saddle Pinto and thine own mule to accompany Francisco, who will take letters from me to the Father Superior at San Jose to-morrow at daybreak." "At daybreak, reverend father ?" "At daybreak.

Hark ye, go by the mountain trails and avoid the highway.
Stop at no _posada_ nor _fonda_, but if the child is weary, rest then awhile at Don Juan Briones' or at the rancho of the Blessed Fisherman.
Have no converse with stragglers, least of all those gentile Americanos.

So" ...
The first strokes of the Angelus came from the nearer tower.

With a gesture Father Pedro waved Antonio aside, and opened the door of the sacristy.
"_Ad Majorem Dei Gloria_." II.
The hacienda of Don Juan Briones, nestling in a wooded cleft of the foot-hills, was hidden, as Father Pedro had wisely reflected, from the straying feet of travelers along the dusty highway to San Jose.