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34
TEE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE
THEY CAME FROM FAR AND NEAR AT SOUND OF SAN MINIATO
Pepe was as docile as a lamb; but smarting under blows he was as blood-thirsty as a wolf.
Pepe loved Padre Ernesto beyond all else in the world, yet not quite so fervently as he hated Don Hernando.
Don Hernando, in turn, cherished a hatred for Padre Ernesto because of his "meddling," as he termed it, that was second only to that which he held for his peons, who fairly worshiped the venerable monk.
Of late, the planter had been venting his venom with steadily increasing virulence on the backs of his slaves — particularly Pepe, because of the padre's special regard for him.
And Pepe had been secretly and accidentally provided to resist the next attack. The Indian had found a long and wicked-looking dagger which had re-created in his breast a long-forgotten lust for blood. His fertile imaginings took a new turn, which always pictured the brutal master with a dagger between his shoulder-blades. He kept aloof from the padre for days, and only took his hand away from the place where the knife was concealed when the "voice of San Miniato," as he had come to call the bell, broke thru his dark musings.
The grandee was plainly itching for a clash with the Mission Fathers, and the old priest saw, with great anxiety, that a crisis was fast approaching. It came, too, like a flash.
The Donna Inez, Hernando's wife, and his daughter, Lola, thruout the
gathering storm, continued to come loyally to the Mission, graciously accepting the cure and the counsel of Padre Ernesto.
One bright afternoon, as they were pacing up and down with him, their hearts warm with the kindliness the gentle priest always dispensed, their peace of mind was dispelled by the sudden appearance of Don Hernando, a scowl on his face and a slave-whip in his hand. There was a time-worn rule that forbade either slave-hunts or floggings on the Mission grounds.
The planter addressed the cowering women, ignoring the priest.
"The clod, Pepe, he is here; dont lie! He is always shirking my work to sneak here; this time he shall pay for it. Come — where is he ? ' '
The priest, as tho to avert hostilities, quietly withdrew; the women slunk within the shadow of the chapel porch. Don Hernando strode about with rising ire, testing the lash on his boot-leg.
At that critical moment Pepe appeared.
"Master, I come/' he said simply, his bare shoulders quivering slightly as his eye fell on the whip in the planter's convulsing hand.
"Down, dog, and take it!" snarled Don Hernando, forcing the now supplicating peon to his knees and letting the lash descend with a sickening cleek that brought a suppressed cry to the wretched slave's lips.
"Master, not one more, I warn