the pueblo, Felipe leading the horse taken from Don Abrahan's corral. To Henderson it seemed as if the dark were charged with the suspense of mystery. There was the scent of lemon blossoms from Don Abrahan's orchard, and of jasmine from some humble door.
"It will be a late moon," said Felipe.
"So much the better for us."
"Yes, people will be awake until midnight these times, talking over this great news of war. I have a friend who will know all that has happened today. His home is behind the church; we can leave our horses a little way off to keep any suspicion of complicity from his door."
The pueblo of Los Angeles, called by the Franciscans who founded the place La Ciudad de Nuestra Señora La Reina de Los Angeles, or The City of Our Lady Queen of the Angels, was a village of a few score houses at that time, most of them the mean dwellings of the poor. These were clustered around the church, which stood on one side of the plaza, the governor's mansion, so called, and the military barracks facing it. This plaza was the gulf between consequence and obscurity, most of the influential and wealthy people living on the governor's side.
All about the little city were the pastures and fields, orange orchards and vineyards of the great estates of the hidalgos who had received their grants from the king. Many of these estates had passed from the grantees' hands into the possession
