“What a perfect night!” said Madeline.  “This is a night to understand the dream, the mystery, the wonder of the Southwest.  Florence, for long you have promised to tell us the story of the lost mine of the padres.  It will give us all pleasure, make us understand something of the thrall in which this land held the Spaniards who discovered it so many years ago.  It will be especially interesting now, because this mountain hides somewhere under its crags the treasures of the lost mine of the padres.”

* * *

“In the sixteenth century,” Florence began, in her soft, slow voice so suited to the nature of the legend, “a poor young padre of New Spain was shepherding his goats upon a hill when the Virgin appeared before him.  He prostrated himself at her feet, and when he looked up she was gone.  But upon the maguey plant near where she had stood there were golden ashes of a strange and wonderful substance.  He took the incident as a good omen and went again to the hilltop.  Under the maguey had sprung up slender stalks of white, bearing delicate gold flowers, and as these flowers waved in the wind a fine golden dust, as fine as powdered ashes, blew away toward the north.  Padre Juan was mystified, but believed that great fortune attended upon him and his poor people.  So he went again and again to the hilltop in hope that the Virgin would appear to him.

“One morning, as the sun rose gloriously, he looked across the windy hill toward the waving grass arid golden flowers under the maguey, and he saw the Virgin beckoning to him.  Again he fell upon his knees; but she lifted him and gave him of the golden flowers, and bade him leave his home and people to follow where these blowing golden ashes led.  There he would find gold—­pure gold—­wonderful fortune to bring back to his poor people to build a church for them, and a city.

“Padre Juan took the flowers and left his home, promising to return, and he traveled northward over the hot and dusty desert, through the mountain passes, to a new country where fierce and warlike Indians menaced his life.  He was gentle and good, and of a persuasive speech.  Moreover, he was young and handsome of person.  The Indians were Apaches, and among them he became a missionary, while always he was searching for the flowers of gold.  He heard of gold lying in pebbles upon the mountain slopes, but he never found any.  A few of the Apaches he converted; the most of them, however, were prone to be hostile to him and his religion.  But Padre Juan prayed and worked on.

“There came a time when the old Apache chief, imagining the padre had designs upon his influence with the tribe, sought to put him to death by fire.  The chief’s daughter, a beautiful, dark-eyed maiden, secretly loved Juan and believed in his mission, and she interceded for his life and saved him.  Juan fell in love with her.  One day she came to him wearing golden flowers in her dark hair, and