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Updated: June 20, 2025
From something suddenly suggested by the man's air, the mad idea now darted into Captain Delano's mind, that Don Benito's plea of indisposition, in withdrawing below, was but a pretense: that he was engaged there maturing his plot, of which the sailor, by some means gaining an inkling, had a mind to warn the stranger against; incited, it may be, by gratitude for a kind word on first boarding the ship.
This was the painting of Francisco Garvez of hidalgo lineage, who had stood beside Ortega, the Pathfinder, when that honored scout of Portola had found the bay of San Francisco and the Golden Gate. "Carissima, how he would have loved you, that old man!" Benito's tone was dreamy. Alice Windham turned. "You are like him, Benito," she said fondly. "There is the same flash in your eye.
Such were the American's thoughts. They were tranquilizing. There was a difference between the idea of Don Benito's darkly pre-ordaining Captain Delano's fate, and Captain Delano's lightly arranging Don Benito's. Nevertheless, it was not without something of relief that the good seaman presently perceived his whale-boat in the distance.
So regularly did they end their outings with a dinner at the Seal Rock House that Alice always knew where to find her husband in case some clamorous client sought Benito's aid. And tonight as an attendant called his name he answered with no other thought than that he would be asked to make a will or soothe some jealous and importunate wife who wanted a divorce without delay.
McTurpin's strength far overmatched that of the other. Instantly he was on his feet. Benito's second rush was countered by a blow upon the jaw. The boy fell heavily. McTurpin smoothed his ruffled plumage and picked up the scattered coins. "Take the young idiot home," he said across his shoulder, as he strode out. "Pour a little whisky down his throat. He isn't hurt."
Benito promptly closed his office for the afternoon and ran home with it; he read the missive, while Alice, Robert and Po Lun listened, eager-eyed and silent: "We have marched over historic ground, the trail of d'Anza, which Benito's forefathers broke in 1774. They say it is the hardest march that volunteer troops ever made and I can well believe it.
Shortly after the death of Benito's parents, his elder brother had made one of a band of artisans, laborers and soldiers, in company with two Franciscan priests, to the province of Nueva California.
The hot Spanish temper which he had never entirely mastered, flamed like a scorching blast across Benito's mind.
He was asked several questions concerning the voyage questions purposely referring to several particulars in Don Benito's narrative, not previously corroborated by those impulsive cries greeting the visitor on first coming on board. The questions were briefly answered, confirming all that remained to be confirmed of the story.
To his surprise a mouse of monstrous size appeared before him. It was the King of the Mice. "Why are you so sad?" asked the Mouse. "I am searching for an earring which the Princess lost as we passed through the forest, but am unable to find it." "I will find it for you," said the King-Mouse. Benito's face brightened at hearing this.
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