He opened the door of his room on the corridor as he heard the approach of the traveler, squinting his bleared, yellow-spotted eyes.  He was surly by nature, but he bowed low to the man whose power was so great in California, and whose generosity had sent him many a bullock.  He cooked him supper from his frugal store, piled the logs in the open fireplace,—­November was come,—­and, after a bottle of wine, produced from Estenega’s saddle-bag, expanded into a hermit’s imitation of conviviality.  Late in the night they still sat on either side of the table in the dusty, desolate room.  The Forgotten had been entertained with vivid and shifting pictures of the great capital in which he had passed his boyhood.  He smiled occasionally; now and again he gave a quick impatient sigh.  Suddenly Estenega leaned forward and fixed him with his powerful gaze.

“Is there gold in these mountains?” he asked, abruptly.

The priest was thrown off his guard for a moment; a look of meaning flashed into his eyes, then one of cunning displaced it.

“It may be, Senor Don Diego; gold is often in the earth.  But had I the unholy knowledge, I would lock it in my breast.  Gold is the canker in the heart of the world.  It is not for the Church to scatter the evil broadcast.”

Estenega shut his teeth.  Fanaticism was a more powerful combatant than avarice.

“True, my father.  But think of the good that gold has wrought.  Could these Missions have been built without gold?—­these thousands of Indians Christianized?”

“What you say is not untrue; but for one good, ten thousand evils are wrought with the metal which the devil mixed in hell and poured through the veins of the earth.”

Estenega spent a half-hour representing in concrete and forcible images the debt which civilization owed to the fact and circulation of gold.  The priest replied that California was a proof that commerce could exist by barter; the money in the country was not worth speaking of.

“And no progress to speak of in a hundred years,” retorted Estenega.  Then he expatiated upon the unique future of California did she have gold to develop her wonderful resources.  The priest said that to cut California from her Arcadian simplicity would be to start her on her journey to the devil along with the corrupt nations of the Old World.  Estenega demonstrated that if there was vice in the older civilizations there was also a higher state of mental development, and that Religion held her own.  He might as well have addressed the walls of the Mission.  He tempted with the bait of one of the more central Missions.  The priest had only the dust of ambition in the cellar of his brain.

He lost his patience at last.  “I must have gold,” he said, shortly; “and you shall show me where to find it.  You once betrayed to my father that you knew of its existence in these hills; and you shall give me the key.”

The priest looked into the eyes of steel and contemptuously determined face before him, and shut his lips.  He was alone with a desperate man; he had not even a servant; he could be murdered, and his murderer go unsuspected; but the heart of the fanatic was in him.  He made no reply.