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Though unarmed, he was dressed in the black soutane of the Order; and his high spirit hurried him at once in the direction of the voice, which seemed to call for assistance. And did not the Jesuit garb lend him a moral force superior to all physical strength?

Turning the corner of a gloomy by-street, he found himself fronting a group of four men and a girl, whilst the dense shade prevented more minute observation. Approaching them suddenly, he cried out, showing the cross of his rosary—

"Stop, ye sinners! in the name of God, stop!"

More effectual than the sword was the Novice's resolute exclamation. Three of the men at once took to flight; the fourth fell upon his knees before the young priest, and the woman who, uttering loud shrieks, had been dragged along the ground, hastened to follow his example. Both poured forth at the same time expressions of gratitude and kissed the Jesuit habit.

"What hath happened?" inquired Manuel de Moraes in consoling accents, hastening to raise them.

"Padre," exclaimed the man in a calmer tone, "I am a poor Carijó, and this maiden is my daughter. Here was our abode," pointing to a pauper shanty. "Three whites burst in the door, tore my Cora from her bed, and dragged her into the street. I awoke with a start, and embraced my girl with a father's arms, which are stronger than the best of weapons. We were struggling when your Reverence came up and saved us."

"And whose blood is this?" asked Manuel, seeing red stains upon the Indian's head, face, and cotton shirt.

"It is a small matter, O my preserver!" exclaimed the Indian, pressing his lips to the hand of his deliverer. "Only a few traces of the cudgel. It is