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The one which brought him this good fortune was an equestrian portrait of Philip; first uncovered on the steps of San Felipe. Everywhere the people were delighted with it, poets sung of it, and the king declared no other should ever paint his portrait. This picture has long since disappeared.
The village people had drawn heavily on their poverty-stricken stores, keeping candles burning for Alessandro and Ramona during the past ten days. The rosary had slipped from Ramona's hold; taking it cautiously in his hand, Felipe went to the Madonna's picture, and falling on his knees, began to pray as simply as if he were alone.
Only too well he knew that the girl's heart would be broken; that she could not live on alone with his mother. Felipe adored his mother; but he understood her feeling about Ramona. With his feebleness had also come to Felipe, as is often the case in long illnesses, a greater clearness of perception. Ramona had ceased to puzzle him.
"I failed to frighten him that night when I had him with my knife at his throat. He told me I would not kill him, and I am sure he believed it." "Oh, he's a nervy lad, all right," nodded Hagan. "Del Norte found that out. If he had lived " There was a step outside; a sharp knock on the door. Felipe leaped back toward the window, outside of which was the fire escape.
Had he not found him so always? There were not many such Indians as Alessandro and his father. If there had been, it would have been better for their people. "If they'd all been like Alessandro, I tell you," she said, "it would have taken more than any San Diego sheriff to have put them out of their homes here." "But what could they do to help themselves, Mrs. Hartsel?" asked Felipe.
It looked bad." "The handcuffs are yet to be made that will hold those hands, Señor Hagan," said Felipe, with a laugh. "Sure you made me wink when you slipped your hands out of them slick and easy. Then it was not so hard to bribe the police to let us both slip away in the darkness as they marched the prisoners downstairs and out through the passage.
Christopher Columbus, son of a Genoese wool-comber, sailor and trader and student of men and of maps from the age of fourteen, had come, about the year 1477, from London to Lisbon, where he married in 1478 Felipe Moñiz de Perestrello, whose father had been a captain in the service of Prince Henry and first governor of Porto Santo.
"Take the wheel, Achang," continued the captain. The sampan was sent ashore to cast off the fasts. The river at the town is over four hundred feet wide, and deep enough in almost any part for the Blanchita. As soon as the lines were hauled in, the captain rang one bell, and Felipe started the engine. The helmsman headed the boat for the middle of the stream, and the captain rang the speed-bell.
"He gave us all he had, to the last," said the old man. "He lay on a raw-hide on the ground, as we did; and one morning, before he had finished the mass, he fell forward at the altar and was dead. And when we put him in the grave, his body was only bones, and no flesh; he had gone so long without food, to give it to us." At all these Missions Felipe asked in vain for Alessandro.
When it came to the pay-roll, Senor Felipe knew to whom he paid wages; but who were fed and lodged under his roof, that was quite another thing. It could not enter into the head of a Mexican gentleman to make either count or account of that. It would be a disgraceful niggardly thought. To the Senora it seemed as if there were no longer any people about the place.
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