"Miguel," he whispered, "I'm in the throes of temptation. I told you
of the thousand dollars which the Senora Parker, in a moment of that
great-heartedness which distinguishes her (what a triumph, could I but
baptize her in our faith!) forced Senor Parker to present to me. I
contemplate using it toward the needed repairs to the roof of our
Mission. These repairs will cost at least three thousand dollars, and
the devil has whispered to me--"
"Say no more about it, but bet the money," said Miguel. "Be a sport,
Father Dominic, for the opportunity will never occur again. Before the
sun shall set this day, your one thousand will have grown to ten. Even
if Panchito should lose, I will guarantee you the return of your money."
Father Dominic trembled. "Ah, my son, I feel like a little old devil,"
he quavered, but--he protested no more. When Don Mike settled him in a
seat in the grand-stand, Father Dominic whispered wistfully, "God will
not hold this worldliness against me, Miguel. I feel I am here on His
business, for is not Panchito running for a new roof for our beloved
Mission? I will pray for victory."
"Now you are demonstrating your sound common sense," Don Mike assured
him. His right hand closed over the roll of bills Father Dominic
surreptitiously slipped him. Scarcely had he transferred the
Restoration Fund to his trousers' pocket when Brother Anthony nudged
him and slipped a tiny roll into Don Miguel's left hand, accompanying
the secret transfer with a wink that was almost a sermon.
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