"My tongue runs away with me, lying
here on this cursed bed, with nothing to do,-- an active man like
me."
"No, I'll not speak of it, you may be assured," said Alessandro,
walking away slowly.
"Here! Here!" called Juan. "What about that plan you had for
making a bed for Senor Felipe on the verandah Was it of raw-hide
you meant?"
"Ah, I had forgotten," said Alessandro, returning. "Yes, that was it.
There is great virtue in a raw-hide, tight stretched; my father says
that it is the only bed the Fathers would ever sleep on, in the
Mission days. I myself like the ground even better; but my father
sleeps always on the rawhide. He says it keeps him well. Do you
think I might speak of it to the Senora?"
"Speak of it to Senor Felipe himself," said Juan. "It will be as he
says. He rules this place now, from beginning to end; and it is but
yesterday I held him on my knee. It is soon that the old are pushed
to the wall, Alessandro."
"Nay, Juan Canito," replied Alessandro, kindly. "It is not so. My
father is many years older than you are, and he rules our people
to-day as firmly as ever.
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