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Leaving San Diego and traveling northward along "El Camino Real," the highway which leads from mission to mission, we reach San Luis Rey, "King of the Missions," as it is sometimes called. Its church is the largest of all those erected by the padres, being one hundred and sixty feet long, fifty-eight feet wide, and sixty feet high.
"We are following El Camino Real from the Mission to the Presidio," I reminded him. We turned toward the shopping district, but the lure of the place made our feet lag. We watched the people purchasing flowers at the corner, and the little newsboys drinking from Lotta's fountain. "A tablet," he exclaimed delightedly, examining the bronze plate fastened to the fountain.
Many had died by fire and tomahawk, but always others had come to take their place; and so the work had gone on through time, even as the bell-signals had gone on sounding from Mission to Mission along El Camino Reale, the highway of the Padres. "One Father lives here; a dear old gentleman," said Nick. "I met him once, but he mayn't remember me.
Vicenza, however, thinks that she turned into the camino abajo after she got past the houses, and overtook the carreta. She was gone long enough to have done so." This communication seemed to make a deep impression upon the listener. Shadows flitted over his dark brow, and gleams of some new intelligence or design appeared in his eyes.
My companion had darted across the crowded street to a little oasis of grass where a mission bell hung suspended on an iron standard. "It marks 'El Camino Real," he reported as he rejoined me. "The King's Highway," I translated.
As we advanced up the Camino de Chasna, a road only by name, the quintas were succeeded by brown-thatched huts, single or in clumps. The magnificent old tree, which was full grown in the days of the conquest, and which in the seventeenth century was a favourite halting-point, suffered severely from the waterspout of November 7, 1826; but still measured 130 feet long by 29 in girth.
When these men rode in, one of them, Gonzales, an intelligent and reliable halfbreed, said he had met prospectors at the oasis. They had just come in on the Camino del Diablo, reported a terrible trip of heat and drought, and not a trace of the Yaqui's party. "That settles it," declared Belding. "Yaqui never went to Sonoyta.
I guess you say it because you mean it." "Of course I do," said Stone heartily. "Well, here comes my niece with the mail. See! Over there is El Camino Real, running north. My ranch is up there, in the hills. My foreman's name is Williams. If you should ask him for work, I believe he might give you something to do. I heard him say he needed a man, not long ago."
The Mission bell, so many miles to Dolores, so many miles to Rafael. Ring, Mission bell, ring and show us where the El Camino Real will lead us all by and by. We who pass all day, show us the way, Mission bell. "here is a task for all that a man has of fortitude and delicacy." Miracles "Why, who makes much of a miracle? As for me, I know of nothing else but miracles.
A short ride upon the train, through the hot and dusty valley, brought us to the miserable station of San Antonio, from which, we had been assured, a coach ran daily to Teotitlan del Camino; arrived at the station, no stage was in sight, and we were told that it sometimes came and sometimes not.
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