He is met at the priest's door by Padre Francisco. Don Miguel
Peralta, the last of the land barons of the San Joaquin, is now
a prisoner in the sacristy of the church. Time has its revenges.
The turns of fortune's wheel. Padre Francisco assembles the entire
population of the home ranch by the clanging of the church bell.
In a few words he explains the reasons of the occupancy. He orders
the hired men to remain in the enclosure under the guard of the
sentinels. He dresses skilfully the wound of Maxime. He patches up
the face of the wounded scout, whose proudest future boast will be
that Joaquin Murieta gave him those honorable scars.
Maxime, worn and faint, falls into a fevered sleep. His subordinate
holds the ranch, with all the force ready for any attack. The
afternoon wears on. In sleep Valois forgets both the flying bandit
and his fate. The old Don, his eyes filled with scalding tears,
rages in his bonds. Pale, frightened Donna Juanita clasps her hands
in the agony of prayer before the crucifix in the chapel. Beside
her stands Dolores, now a budding beauty, in radiant womanhood.
The dark-eyed young girl is mute. Her pathetic glances are as shy
as a wounded deer's dying gaze. "The dreaded Americanos.
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