Ned entered the garden which contained many trees, and sat down in the thickest group of them.  Then he began to eat.  He was as ravenous as any wolf, but he had been cultivating the power of will, and he ate like a gentleman, knowing that to do otherwise would not be good for him.  But, tempered by discretion, it was a glorious pursuit.  It was almost worth the long period of fasting and suffering, for common Mexican food, bought on the street from an old Aztec woman, to taste so well.  Strength flowed back into every vein and muscle.  He would not now give way to fears and tremblings which were of the body rather than the mind.  He stopped when half of the food was gone, put the remainder in his pocket, and stood up.  Fine drops of water struck him in the face.  It had begun to rain.  And a raw wind was moaning in the valley.

Despite the warm food and his returning strength Ned felt the desperate need of shelter.  It was growing colder, too.  Even as he stood there the fine rain turned to fine snow.  It melted as it fell, but when it struck him about the neck and face it had an uncommonly penetrating power and the chill seemed to go into the bone.  He must have shelter.  He looked at the dark walls of the cathedral and then at the light in the slender lantern far up above the dome.  What more truly a shelter than a church!  It had been a sanctuary in the dark ages, and he might use it now as such.

He left the trees and stood for a little while by a stone, one of the 124 which formerly enclosed an atrium.  Still seeing nothing and hearing nothing but the whistle of the wind which drove the cold drops of snow under his collar he advanced boldly again, sprang over the iron railing, and came to the walls of the old church, where he stood a moment.

Ned knew that in great Catholic cathedrals, like the one of Mexico, there were always side doors or little wickets used by priests or other high officials of the church, and he was hoping to find one that he could open.  He passed half way around the building, feeling cautiously along the cold stone.  Once he saw a watchman with sombrero, heavy cloak and lantern.  He pressed into a niche, and the watchman went on his automatic way, little thinking that anyone was near.

The boy continued his circuit and presently he found a wooden door, which he could not force.  A little further and he came to a second which opened to his pressure.  It was so small an entrance that he stooped as he passed in.  He shut it carefully behind him, and stood in what was almost total darkness, until his eyes grew used to the gloom.

Then he saw that he was in a vast interior, Doric in architecture, severe and simple.  It was in the form of a Latin cross, with fluted columns dividing the aisles from the nave.  Above him rose a noble dome.

He could make out nothing more for the present.  It was very still, very imposing, and at another time he would have been awed, but now he had found sanctuary.  The cold and the snow were shut out and a grateful warmth took their place.  He walked down one of the aisles, careful that his footsteps should make no sound.  He saw that there were rows of chapels, seven on either side of the church.  It occurred to him that he would be safer in one of these rooms and he chose that which seemed to be used the least.