"Don Geronimo? It is a strange thing," he said.
"He has met a strange adventure, such as only Don Geronimo could pass through and live. Help me break some boughs to make a springy bed for him in the bottom of your cart. We will cover them with your sacks, there will be others to replace them at the mission."
"And who are you?" Dominguez asked, his best foot set to spring back into the cart at the first false start.
"It is another thing," Juan returned, coldly.
"Are you of the mission?"
"I am not of the mission."
"Well, you are a thing to make a man forget his dinner!" Dominguez declared. "Have you come through the fire on the mountain?"
"We have. At San Fernando Don Geronimo will tell you what there is for your ears to hear. Assist me; let us be quick."
While Don Geronimo's strength was little more than a shred when they lifted him to the cart and stretched him on the springy couch of boughs, he held himself braced on his elbow a moment, and took Juan's hand.
"Don Juan, you have suffered much for an unworthy man," he said. "I pray for a happier day to requite you."
"It is nothing," said Juan. "Dominguez, will you lend me a jacket? I cannot promise to return
