Ysidro had gone to Father Gaspara for help, and Father Gaspara had had an angry interview with Doctor Morong; but it had done no good. The Doctor said the land did not belong to Ysidro at all, but to the United States Government; and that he had paid the money for it to the agents in Los Angeles, and there would very soon come papers from Washington, to show that it was his. Father Gaspara had gone with Ysidro to a lawyer in San Diego, and had shown to his lawyer Ysidro's paper,—the old one from the Mexican Governor of California, establishing the pueblo of San Pasquale, and saying how many leagues of land the Indians were to have; but the lawyer had only laughed at Father Gaspara for believing that such a paper as that was good for anything. He said that was all very well when the country belonged to Mexico, but it was no good now; that the Americans owned it now; and everything was done by the American law now, not by the Mexican law any more.
“Then we do not own any land in San Pasquale at all,” said Ysidro. “Is that what it means?”
And the lawyer had said, he did not know how it would be with the cultivated land, and the village where the houses were,—he could not tell about that; but he thought it all belonged to the men at Washington.
Father Gaspara was in such rage, Ysidro said, that he tore open his gown on his breast, and he smote himself, and he said he wished he were a soldier, and no priest, that he might fight this accursed United States Government; and the lawyer laughed at him, and told him to look after souls,—that was his business,—and let the Indian beggars alone! “Yes, that was what he said,—'the Indian beggars!' and so they would be all beggars, presently.”
Alessandro told this by gasps, as it were; at long intervals. His voice was choked; his whole
