XVI
It was eleven o'clock when the car rolled down the main street of ElToro. From the sidewalk, sundry citizens, of diverse shades of color andconditions of servitude, observing Minuet Farrel, halted abruptly andstared as if seeing a ghost. Don Mike wanted to shout to them glad wordsof greeting, of affectionate badinage, after the fashion of thateasy-going and democratic community, but he feared to make the girl athis side conspicuous; so he contented himself by uncovering gravely tothe women and waving debonairly to the men. This constituting ocularevidence that he was not a ghost or a man who bore a striking physicalresemblance to one they mourned as dead, the men so saluted returned hisgreeting.
The few who had recognized him as he entered the town, quickly, by theircries of greeting, roused the loungers and idle conversationalists alongthe sidewalks further down the street. There was a rush to shop doors, acraning of necks, excited inquiries in Spanish and English; more shoutsof greeting. A gaunt, hawk-faced elderly man, with Castilian features,rode up on a bay horse, showed a sheriff's badge to William, thechauffeur, and informed him he was arrested for speeding. Then hepressed his horse close enough to extend a hand to Farrel.
"Miguel, my boy," he said in English, out of deference to the girl in thecar, "this is a very great--a very unexpected joy. We have grieved foryou, my friend."
His faint clipped accent, the tears in his eyes, told Kay that this manwas one of Don Miguel's own people. Farrel clasped the proffered handand replied to him in Spanish; then, remembering his manners, hepresented the horseman as Don Nicolas Sandoval, sheriff of the county.Don Nicolas bent low over his horse's neck, his wide gray hat clasped tohis gallant heart.
"You will forgive the emotion of a foolish old man, Miss Parker," hesaid, "but we of San Marcos County love this boy."
Other friends now came running; in a few minutes perhaps a hundred men,boys, and women had surrounded the car, struggling to get closer, vyingwith each other to greet the hero of the San Gregorio. They babbledcompliments and jocularities at him; they cheered him lustily; withhomely bucolic wit they jeered his army record because they were so proudof it, and finally they began a concerted cry of; "Speech! Speech!Speech!"
Don Mike stood up in the tonneau and removed his hat. Instantly silencesettled over the crowd, and Kay thought that she had never seen a moreperfect tribute of respect paid anyone. He spoke to them briefly, with adepth of sentiment only possible in a descendant of two of the mostsentimental races on earth; but he was not maudlin. When he hadconcluded his remarks, he repeated them in Spanish for the benefit ofthose who had never learned English very well or at all.
And now, although Kay did not understand a word of what he said, sherealized that in his mother tongue he was infinitely more tender, moretouching, more dramatic than he could possibly be in English, for hisaudience wagged approving' heads now and paid him the tribute of many afurtive tear.
Don Nicolas Sandoval rode his horse through the crowd presently andopened a path for the car.
"I'm afraid this has been a trifle embarrassing for you, Miss Parker,"Farrel remarked, as they proceeded down the street. "I shall notrecognize any more of them. I've greeted them all in general, and someday next week I'll come to town and greet them in detail. They were allglad I came back, though, weren't they?" he added, with a boy'seagerness. "Lord, but I was glad to see them!"
"I can hardly believe you are the same man I saw manhandling your enemyan hour ago," she declared.
"Oh," he replied, with a careless shrug, "fighting and loving are theonly two worth-while things in life. Park in front of the court-house,William, please."
He excused himself to Kay and ran lightly up the steps. Fifteen minuteslater, he returned.
"I have a writ of execution," he declared. "Now to find the sheriff andhave him serve it."
They located Don Nicolas Sandoval at the post-office, one leg cocked overthe pommel of his saddle, and the El Toro _Sentinel_ spread on his knee.
"Father's old business with the Basque, Don Nicolas," Farrel informedhim. "He has money deposited in his own name in the First National Bankof El Toro."
"I have grown old hunting that fellow's assets, Miguel, my boy," quothDon Nicolas. "If I can levy on a healthy bank-account, I shall feel thatmy life has not been lived in vain."
He folded his newspaper, uncoiled his leg from the pommel, and started upthe street at the dignified fast walk he had taught his mount. Farrelreturned to the car and, with Kay, arrived before the portals of the banka few minutes in advance of the sheriff, just in time to see AndreLoustalot leap from his automobile, dash up the broad stone steps, andfairly hurl himself into the bank.
"I don't know whether I ought to permit him to withdraw his money andhave Don Nicolas attach it on his person or not. Perhaps that would bedangerous," Miguel remarked. He stepped calmly out of the car, assistedKay to alight, and, with equal deliberation, entered the bank with thegirl.
"Now for some fun," he whispered. "Behold the meanest man inAmerica--myself!"
Loustalot was at the customers' desk writing a check to cash for hisentire balance in bank. Farrel permitted him to complete the drawing ofthe check, watched the Basque almost trot toward the paying-teller'swindow, and as swiftly trotted after him.
"All--everything!" Loustalot panted, and reached over the shoulders oftwo customers in line ahead of him. But Don Miguel Farrel's arm wasstretched forth also; his long brown fingers closed over the check andsnatched it from the Basque's hand as he murmured soothingly:
"You will have to await your turn, Loustalot. For your bad manners, Ishall destroy this check." And he tore the signature off and crumpledthe little slip of paper into a ball, which he flipped into Loustalot'sbrutal face.
The Basque stood staring at him, inarticulate with fury; Don Mike facedhis enemy with a bantering, prescient little smile. Then, with a greatsigh that was in reality a sob, Loustalot abandoned his primal impulse tohurl himself upon Farrel and attempt to throttle; instead, he ran back tothe customers' desk and started scribbling another check. Thereupon, theimpish Farrel removed the ink, and when Loustalot moved to anotherink-well, Farrel's hand closed over that. Helpless and desperate,Loustalot suddenly began to weep; uttering peculiar mewing cries, heclutched at Farrel with the fury of a gorilla. Don Mike merely dodgedround the desk, and continued to dodge until out of the tail of his eye,he saw the sheriff enter the bank and stop at the cashier's desk.Loustalot, blinded with tears of rage, failed to see Don Nicolas; he hadvision only for Don Mike, whom he was still pursuing round the customers'desk.
The instant Don Nicolas served his writ of attachment, the cashier lefthis desk, walked round in back of the various tellers' cages, and handedthe writ to the paying teller; whereupon Farrel, pretending to befrightened, ran out of the bank. Instantly, Loustalot wrote his checkand rushed again to the paying-tellers window.
"Too late, Mr. Loustalot. Your account has been attached," thatfunctionary informed him.
Meanwhile, Don Nicolas had joined his friend on the sidewalk.
"Here is his automobile, Don Nicolas," Farrel said. "I think we hadbetter take it away from him."
Don Nicolas climbed calmly into the driver's seat, filled out a blanknotice of attachment under that certain duly authorized writ which hisold friend's son had handed him, and waited until Loustalot camedejectedly down the bank steps to the side of the car; whereupon DonNicolas served him with the fatal document, stepped on the starter, anddeparted for the county garage, where the car would be stored until soldat auction.
"Who let you out of my calaboose, Loustalot?" Don Mike queried amiably.
"That high-toned Jap friend of Parker's," the Basque replied, withmalicious enjoyment.
"I'm glad it wasn't Mr. Parker. Well, you stayed there long enough toserve my purpose. By the way, your sheep are trespassing again."
"They aren't my sheep."
"Well, if you'll read that document, you'll see that all the sheep on theRancho Palomar at this
date are attached, whether they belong to you ornot. Now, a word of warning to you, Loustalot: Do not come on the RanchoPalomar for any purpose whatsoever. Understand ?"
Loustalot's glance met his unflinchingly for fully ten seconds, and, inthat glance, Kay thought she detected something tigerish.
"Home, William," she ordered the driver, and they departed from El Toro,leaving Andre Loustalot standing on the sidewalk staring balefully afterthem.
They were half-way home before Don Mike came out of the reverie intowhich that glance of Loustalot's had, apparently, plunged him.
"Some day very soon," he said, "I shall have to kill that man or bekilled. And I'm sorry my guest, Mr. Okada, felt it incumbent uponhimself to interfere. If, between them, they have hurt Pablo, I shallcertainly reduce the extremely erroneous Japanese census records inCalifornia by one."