that they did not even hear this by-play between the former bandit and the priest.
"And my girdle, a good hempen rope it was, of two yards' length—what did you do with that?" Padre Mateo pressed.
"Some scoundrel masquerading, as many low fellows did in my unfortunate past," Alvitre protested. "If you ever encountered a man in Dominguez' house who said he was Sebastian Alvitre, that man was an outrageous liar!"
"I have no doubt of it," Padre Mateo assured him, heartily sincere.
"Comisionado Felix has led this delegation from the pueblo to investigate our mill, Brother Mateo," Padre Ignacio explained.
"You consider building one?" Padre Mateo inquired, turning to the comisionado.
The comisionado was a man who seemed enlarged to a disgusting puffiness by the virus of some festering complaint, evident in the pustules and pits which marred jhis face. His eyelids were redrimmed, his beardless lips purple from the congestion of much wine. He spread his hands, drew his mouth in grimace expressive of complete disclaimer, at Padre Mateo's question.
"Far from it," he replied. "As it is we have scarcely enough water to drink, and keep our cattle and goats alive, to say nothing at all of our trees and little gardens of beans, which perish where they stand."
