CHAPTER XXIII
As Farrel approached the Mission de la Madre Dolorosa, a man in therusty brown habit of a Franciscan friar rose from a bench just outsidethe entrance to the Mission garden.
"My son," he said, in calm, paternal accents and speaking in Spanish,"I knew you would come to see your old friends when you had laid asidethe burdens of the day. I have waited here to be first to greet you;for you I am guilty of the sin of selfishness."
"Padre Dominic!" Don Mike grasped the out-stretched hand and wrung itheartily. "Old friend! Old Saint! Not since my confirmation have Iasked for your blessing," and with the words he bent his head while theold friar, making the sign of the cross, asked the blessing of God uponthe last of the Farrels.
Don Mike drew his old friend down to the seat the latter had justvacated. "We will talk here for awhile, Father," he suggested. "Iexpect the arrival of a friend in an automobile and I would not be inthe garden when he passes. Later I will visit with the others. GoodFather Dominic, does God still bless you with excellent health?"
"He does, Miguel, but the devil afflicts me with rheumatism."
"You haven't changed a bit, father Dominic."
"Mummies do not change, my son. I have accomplished ninety-two yearsof my life; long ago I used up all possibilities for change, even forthe worse. It is good to have you home, Miguel. Pablo brought us thenews early this morning. We wondered why you did not look in upon usas you passed last night."
"I looked in at my father's grave. I was in no mood for meeting thosewho had loved him."
For perhaps half an hour they conversed; then the peace of the valleywas broken by the rattling and labored puffing of an asthmaticautomobile.
Father Dominic rose and peered around the corner. "Yonder comes onewho practises the great virtue of economy," he announced, "for he isrunning without lights. Doubtless he deems the moonlight sufficient."
Farrel stepped out into the road and held up his arm as a signal forthe motorist to halt. Old Bill Conway swung his prehistoric automobileoff the road and pulled up before the Mission, his carbon-heated motorcontinuing to fire spasmodically even after he had turned off theignition.
"Hello, Miguel," he called, cheerily. "What are you doing here, son?"
"Calling on my spiritual adviser and waiting for you, Bill."
"Howdy, Father Dominic." Conway leaped out and gave his hand to theold friar. "Miguel, how did you know I was coming?"
"This is the only road out of Agua Caliente basin--and I know you!You'd give your head for a football to anybody you love, but the manwho takes anything away from you will have to get up early in themorning."
"Go to the head of the class, boy. You're right. I figured Parkerwould be getting up rather early tomorrow morning and dusting into ElToro to clear for action, so I thought I'd come in to-night. I'm goingto rout out an attorney the minute I get to town, have him draw up acomplaint in my suit for damages against Parker for violation ofcontract, file the complaint the instant the county clerk's officeopens in the morning and then attach his account in the El Toro bank."
"You might attach his stock in that institution while you're at it,Bill. However, I wouldn't stoop so low as to attach his twoautomobiles. The Parkers are guests of mine and I wouldn'tinconvenience the ladies for anything,"
"By the Holy Poker! Have they got two automobiles?" There was a hintof apprehension in old Conway's voice.
"Si, _senor_. A touring car and a limousine."
"Oh, lord! I'm mighty glad you told me, Miguel. I only stole thespark plugs from that eight cylinder touring car. Lucky thing thehounds know me. They like to et me up at first."
Farrel sat down on the filthy running board of Bill Conway's car andlaughed softly. "Oh, Bill, you're immense! So that's why you'rerunning without lights! You concluded that even if he did get up earlyin the morning you couldn't afford to permit him to reach El Torobefore the court-house opened for business."
"A wise man counteth his chickens before they are hatched, Miguel.Where does Parker keep the limousine?"
"Bill, I cannot tell you that. These people are my guests."
"Oh, very well. Now that I know it's there I'll find it. What did youwant to see me about, boy?"
"I've been thinking of our conversation of this afternoon, Bill, and asa result I'm panicky. I haven't any right to drag you into trouble orask you to share my woes. I've thought it over and I think I shallplay safe. Parker will get the ranch in the long run, but if I givehim a quit-claim deed now I think he will give me at least a quarter ofa million dollars. It'll be worth that to him to be free to proceedwith his plans."
"Yes, I can understand that, Miguel, and probably, from a businessstandpoint, your decision does credit to your common sense. But howabout this Jap colony?"
"Bill, can two lone, poverty-stricken Californians hope to alter theimmigration laws of the entire United States? Can we hope to keep thepresent Japanese population of California confined to existing areas?"
"No, I suppose not."
"I had a wild hope this afternoon--guess I was a bit theatrical--but itwas a hope based on selfishness. I'm only twenty-eight years old,Bill, but you are nearly sixty. I'm too young to sacrifice my oldfriends, so I've waited here to tell you that you are released fromyour promise to support me. Settle with Parker and pull out in peace."
Conway pondered. "Wel-l-l-l," he concluded, finally, "perhaps you'reright, son. Nevertheless, I'm going to enter suit and attach. Foolishto hunt big game with an empty gun, Miguel. Parker spoke of anamicable settlement, but as Napoleon remarked, 'God is on the side ofthe strongest battalions,' and an amicable settlement is much moreamicably obtained, when a forced settlement is inevitable." And thecunning old rascal winked solemnly.
Farrel stood up. "Well, that's all I wanted to see you about, Bill.That, and to say 'thank you' until you are better paid."
"Well, I'm on my way, Miguel." The old contractor shook hands withFather Dominic and Farrel, cranked his car, turned it and headed backup the San Gregorio, while Father Dominic guided Don Mike into theMission refectory, where Father Andreas and the lay brothers sat aroundthe dinner table, discussing a black scale which had lately appeared ontheir olive trees.
At the entrance to the palm avenue, Bill Conway stopped his car andproceeded afoot to the Farrel hacienda, which he approached cautiouslyfrom the rear, through the oaks. A slight breeze was blowing down thevalley, so Conway manoeuvred until a short quick bark from one ofFarrel's hounds informed him that his scent had been borne to thekennel and recognized as that of a friend. Confident now that he wouldnot be discovered by the inmates of the hacienda, Bill Conway proceededboldly to the barn. Just inside the main building which, in moreprosperous times on El Palomar, had been used for storing hay, thetouring car stood. Conway fumbled along the instrument board anddiscovered the switch key still in the lock, so he turned on theheadlights and discovered the limousine thirty feet away in the rear ofthe barn. Ten minutes later, with the spark plugs from both carscarefully secreted under a pile of split stove wood in the yard, hedeparted as silently as he had come.
About nine o'clock Don Mike left the Mission and walked home. On thehills to the north he caught the glare of a camp-fire against thesilvery sky; wherefore he knew that Don Nicolas Sandoval and hisdeputies were guarding the Loustalot sheep.
At ten o'clock he entered the patio. In a wicker chaise-longue JohnParker lounged on the porch outside his room; Farrel caught the scentof his cigar on the warm, semi-tropical night, saw the red end of itgleaming like a demon's eye.
"Hello, Mr. Farrel," Parker greeted him. "Won't you sit down and smokea cigar with me before turning in?"
"Thank you. I shall be happy to." He crossed the garden to his guest,sat down beside him and gratefully accepted the fragrant cigar Parkerhanded him. A moment later Kay joined them.
"Wonderful night," Parker remarked. "Mrs. P. retired early, but Kayand I sat up chatting and enjoying the peaceful love
liness of this oldgarden. A sleepless mocking bird and a sleepy little thrush gave aconcert in the sweet-lime tree; a couple of green frogs in the fountainrendered a bass duet; Kay thought that if we remained very quiet thespirits of some lovers of the 'splendid idle forties' might appear inyour garden."
The mood of the night was still upon the girl. In the momentarysilence that followed she commenced singing softly:
I saw an old-fashioned missus, Taking old-fashioned kisses, In an old-fashioned garden, From an old-fashioned beau.
Don Mike slid off the porch and went to his own room, returningpresently with a guitar. "I've been wanting to play a little," heconfessed as he tuned the neglected instrument, "but it seemed sort ofsacrilegious--after coming home and finding my father gone and theranch about to go. However--why sip sorrow with a long spoon? What'sthat ballad about the old-fashioned garden, Miss Kay? I like it. Ifyou'll hum it a few times--"
Ten minutes later he knew the simple little song and was singing itwith her. Mrs. Parker, in dressing gown, slippers and boudoir cap,despairing of sleep until all of the members of her family had firstpreceded her to bed, came out and joined them; presently they were allsinging happily together, while Don Mike played or faked anaccompaniment.
At eleven o'clock Farrel gave a final vigorous strum to the guitar andstood up to say good-night.
"Shall we sing again to-morrow night, Don Mike?" Kay demanded, eagerly.
Farrel's glance rested solemnly upon her father's face. "Well, if weall feel happy to-morrow night I see no objection," he answered. "Ifear for your father, Miss Kay. Have you told him of my plans fordepleting his worldly wealth?"
She flushed a little and answered in the affirmative.
"How does the idea strike you, Mr. Parker?"
John Parker grinned--the superior grin of one who knows his superiorstrength, "Like a great many principles that are excellent in theory,your plan will not work in practice."
"No?"
"No."
For the second time that day Kay saw Don Mike's face light up with thatinsouciant boyish smile.
Then he skipped blithely across the garden thrumming the guitar andsinging:
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!
At seven o'clock next morning, while Miguel Farrel was shaving, JohnParker came to his door, knocked, and without further ado came into theroom.
"Farrel," he began, briskly, "I do not relish your way of doingbusiness. Where are the spark plugs of my two cars?"
"My dear man, I haven't taken them, so why do you ask me? I am notflattered at your blunt hint that I would so far forget my position ashost as to steal the spark plugs from my guest's automobiles."
"I beg your pardon. Somebody took them and naturally I jumped to theconclusion that you were the guilty party."
Don Mike shaved in silence.
"Do you know who removed those spark plugs, Mr. Farrel?"
"Yes, sir, I do."
"Who did it?"
"Bill Conway. He came by last night and concluded it would be betterto make quite certain that you remained away from El Toro until aboutnine-thirty o'clock this morning. It was entirely Bill's idea. I didnot suggest it to him, directly or indirectly. He's old enough to rollhis own hoop. He had a complaint in action drawn up against you lastnight; it will be filed at nine o'clock this morning and immediatelythereafter your bank account and your stock in the First National Bankof El Toro will be attached. Of course you will file a bond to liftthe attachment, but Bill will have your assets where he can levy onthem when he gets round to collecting on the judgment which he willsecure against you unless you proceed with the contract for that dam."
"And this is Conway's work entirely?"
"Yes, sir."
"It's clever work. I'm sorry it wasn't yours. May I have the loan ofa saddle horse--Panchito or the gray?"
"Not to ride either of them, breakfastless, twenty-one miles to El Toroin two hours. They can do it, but not under an impost of a hundred andninety pounds. You might ruin both of them--" he scraped his chin,smiling blandly-- "and I know you'd about ruin yourself, sir. Thesaddle had commenced to get very sore before you had completed eightmiles yesterday."
"Then I'm out of luck, I dare say."
"Strikes me that way, Mr. Parker."
"Very well. You force me to talk business. What will that quit-claimdeed cost me?"
"Six hundred thousand dollars. I've raised the ante since last night."
"I'll not pay it."
"What will you pay?"
"About fifty per cent. of it."
"I might consider less than my first figure and more than your last.Make me a firm offer--in writing--and I'll give you a firm answer theinstant you hand me the document. I'm a poor bargainer. Hagglingirritates me--so I never haggle. And I don't care a tinker's hootwhether you buy me off or not. After nine o'clock this morning youwill have lost the opportunity, because I give you my word of honor, Ishall decline even to receive an offer."
He reached over on his bureau and retrieved therefrom a sheet of paper."Here is the form I desire your offer to take, sir," he continued,affably, and handed the paper to Parker. "Please re-write it in ink,fill in the amount of your offer and sign it. You have until nineo'clock, remember. At nine-one you will be too late."
Despite his deep annoyance, Parker favored him with a sardonic grin."You're a good bluffer, Farrel."
Don Mike turned from the mirror and regarded his guest very solemnly."How do you know?" he queried, mildly. "You've never seen me bluff.I've seen a few inquests held in this country over some men who bluffedin an emergency. We're no longer wild and woolly out here, but when wepull, we shoot. Remember that, sir."
Parker felt himself abashed in the presence of this cool young man, fornothing is so disconcerting as a defeated enemy who refuses toacknowledge defeat. It occurred to Parker in that moment that therewas nothing extraordinary in Farrel's action; for consideration of thesweetness of life cannot be presumed to arouse a great deal of interestin one who knows he will be murdered if he does not commit suicide.
John Parker tucked the paper in his pocket and thoughtfully left theroom. "The boy distrusts me," he soliloquized, "afraid I'll go back onany promise I make him, so he demands my offer in writing. Some moreof his notions of business, Spanish style. Stilted and unnecessary.How like all of his kind he is! Ponderous in minor affairs, casual inmajor matters of business."
An hour later he came up to Don Mike, chatting with Kay and Mrs. Parkeron the porch, and thrust an envelope into Farrel's hand.
"Here is my offer--in writing."
"Thank you, sir." Don Mike thrust the envelope unopened into thebreast pocket of his coat and from the side pocket of the same garmentdrew another envelope. "Here is my answer--in writing."
Parker stared at him in frank amazement and admiration; Kay's glance,as it roved from her father to Don Mike and back again, was sad andtroubled.
"Then you've reopened negotiations, father," she demanded, accusingly.
He nodded. "Our host has a persuasive way about him, Kay," hesupplemented. "He insisted so on my making him an offer that finally Iconsented."
"And now," Farrel assured her, "negotiations are about to be closed."
"Absolutely?"
"Absolutely. Never to be reopened, Miss Kay."
Parker opened his envelope and read. His face was without emotion."That answer is entirely satisfactory to me, Mr. Farrel," he said,presently, and passed the paper to his daughter. She read:
I was tempted last night. You should have closed then. I have changedmy mind. Your offer--whatever it may be--is declined.
"I also approve," Kay murmured, and in the swift glance she exchangedwith Don Miguel he read something that caused his heart to beathappily. Mrs. Parker took the paper from her daughter's hand and readit also.
"Very well, Ajax. I think, we all think a great deal more of you fordefying the lightning," was her so
le comment.
Despite his calm, John Parker was irritated to the point of fury. Hefelt that he had been imposed upon by Don Mike; his great god,business, had been scandalously flouted.
"I am at a loss to understand, Mr. Farrel," he said, coldly, "why youhave subjected me to the incivility of requesting from me an offer inwriting and then refusing to read it when I comply with your request.Why subject me to that annoyance when you knew you intended to refuseany offer I might make you? I do not relish your flippancy at myexpense, sir."
"Do you not think, sir, that I can afford a modicum of flippancy when Ipay such a fearfully high price for it?" Don Mike countered smilingly."I'll bet a new hat my pleasantry cost me not less than four hundredthousand dollars. I think I'll make certain," and he opened Parker'senvelope and read what was contained therein. "Hum-m! Three hundredand twenty-five thousand?"
Parker extended his hand. "I would be obliged to you for the return ofthat letter," he began, but paused, confused, at Farrel's cheerful,mocking grin.
"All's fair in love and war," he quoted, gaily. "I wanted a documentto prove to some banker or pawn-broker that I have an equity in thisranch and it is worth three hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars,in the opinion of the astute financier who holds a first mortgage onit. Really, I think I'd be foolish to give away this evidence," and hetucked it carefully back in his pocket.
"I wonder," Kay spoke up demurely, "which ancestor from which side ofthe family tree put that idea in his head, father?"
Don Mike pretended not to have heard her. He turned kindly to JohnParker and laid a friendly hand upon the latter's arm.
"I think Bill Conway will drift by about ten o'clock or ten-thirty, Mr.Parker. I know he will not cause you any more inconvenience than hefinds absolutely necessary, sir. He's tricky, but he isn't mean."
Parker did not reply. He did not know whether to laugh or fly into arage, to offer Don Mike his hand or his fist. The latter must haveguessed Parker's feelings, for he favored his guests with a Latin shrugand a deprecatory little smile, begged to be excused and departed forthe barn. A quarter of an hour later Kay saw him and Pablo ride out ofthe yard and over the hills toward the west; she observed that Farrelwas riding his father's horse, wherefore she knew that he had leftPanchito behind for her.
Farrel found Don Nicolas Sandoval, the sheriff, by riding straight to acolumn of smoke he saw rising from a grove of oaks on a flat hilltop.
"What do you mean by camping out here, Don Nicolas?" Farrel demanded ashe rode up. "Since when has it become the fashion to await a formalinvitation to the hospitality of the Rancho Palomar?"
"I started to ride down to the hacienda at sunset last night," DonNicolas replied, "but a man on foot and carrying a rifle and a blanketcame over the hills to the south. I watched him through my binoculars.He came down into the wash of the San Gregorio--and I did not see himcome out. So I knew he was camped for the night in the willow thicketsof the river bed; that he was a stranger in the country, else he wouldhave gone up to your hacienda for the night; that his visit spelleddanger to you, else why did he carry a rifle?
"I went supperless, watching from the hillside to see if this strangerwould light a fire in the valley."
"He did not?" Farrel queried.
"Had he made a camp-fire, my boy, I would have accorded myself thepleasure of an informal visit, incidentally ascertaining who he was andwhat he wanted. I am very suspicious of strangers who make cold campsin the San Gregorio. At daylight this morning I rode down the wash andsearched for his camp. I found where he had slept in the grass--alsothis," and he drew from his pocket a single rifle cartridge."Thirty-two-forty caliber, Miguel," he continued, "with a soft-nosebullet. I do not know of one in this county who shoots such a heavyrifle. In the old days we used the .44 caliber, but nowadays, weprefer nothing heavier than a .30 and many use a .35 caliber for deer."
Farrel drew a 6 millimeter Mannlicher carbine from the gun scabbard onhis saddle, dropped five shells into the magazine, looked at his sightsand thrust the weapon back into its receptacle. "I think I ought tohave some more life insurance," he murmured, complacently. "By theway, Don Nicolas, about how many sheep have I attached?"
"Loustalot's foreman says nine thousand in round numbers."
"Where is the sheep camp?"
"Over yonder." Don Nicolas waved a careless hand toward the west. "Isaw their camp-fire last night."
"I'm going over to give them the rush."
"By all means, Miguel. If you run those Basques off the ranch I willbe able to return to town and leave my deputies in charge of thesesheep. Keep your eyes open, Miguel. _Adios, muchacho_!"
Farrel jogged away with Pablo at his heels. Half an hour later he hadlocated the sheep camp and ridden to it to accost the four bewhiskeredBasque shepherds who, surrounded by their dogs, sullenly watched hisapproach.
"Who is the foreman?" Don Mike demanded in English as he rode.
"I am, you ---- ---- ----," one of the Basques replied,briskly. "I don't have for ask who are you. I know."
"Mebbeso some day, you forget," Pablo cried. "I will give yousomething for make you remember, pig." The old majordomo was ridingthe black mare. A touch of the spur, a bound, and she was besideLoustalot's foreman, with Pablo cutting the fellow furiously over thehead and face with his heavy quirt. The other three sheepmen ran forthe tent, but Don Mike spurred the gray in between them and theirobjective, at the same time drawing his carbine.
There was no further argument. The sheepherders' effects were soontransferred to the backs of three burros and, driving the littleanimals ahead of them, the Basques moved out. Farrel and Don Nicolasfollowed them to the boundaries of the ranch and shooed them outthrough a break in the fence.
"Regarding that stranger who camped last night in the valley, DonMiguel. Would it not be well to look into his case?"
Don Mike nodded. "We will ride up the valley, Pablo, as if we seekcattle; if we find this fellow we will ask him to explain."
"That is well," the old Indian agreed, and dropped back to hisrespectful position in his master's rear. As they topped the ridgethat formed the northern buttress of the San Gregorio, Pablo rode tothe left and started down the hill through a draw covered with a thickgrowth of laurel, purple lilac, a few madone trees and an occasionaloak. He knew that a big, five-point buck had its habitat here and itwas Pablo's desire to jump this buck out and thus afford his master aglimpse of the trophy that awaited him later in the year.
From the valley below a rifle cracked. Pablo slid out of his saddlewith the ease of a youth and lay flat on the ground beside the trail.But no bullet whined up the draw or struck near him, wherefore he knewthat he was not the object of an attack; yet there was wild pounding ofhis heart when the rifle spoke again and again.
The thud of hoofs smote his ear sharply, so close was he to the ground.Slowly Pablo raised his head. Over the hog's back which separated thedraw in which Pablo lay concealed from the draw down which Don Miguelhad ridden, the gray horse came galloping--riderless--and Pablo saw thestock of the rifle projecting from the scabbard. The runaway plungedinto the draw some fifteen yards in front of Pablo, found a cow-trailleading down it and disappeared into the valley.
Pablo's heart swelled with agony. "It has happened!" he murmured."Ah, Mother of God! It has happened!"
Two more shots in rapid succession sounded from the valley. "He makescertain of his kill," thought Pablo. After a while he addressed theoff front foot of the black mare. "I will do likewise."
He started crawling on his belly up out of the draw to the crest of thehog's back. He had an impression, amounting almost to a certainty,that the assassin in the valley had not seen him riding down the draw,otherwise he would not have opened fire on Don Miguel. He would havebided his time and chosen an occasion when there would be no witnesses.
For an hour he waited, watching, grieving, weeping a little. From thedraw where Don Miguel lay no sound came forth. Pablo tried hard toerase
from his mind a vision of what he would find when, his primalduty of vengeance, swift and complete, accomplished, he should go downinto that draw. His tear-dimmed, bloodshot eyes searched thevalley--ah, what was that? A cow, a deer or a man? Surely somethinghad moved in the brush at the edge of the river wash.
Pablo rubbed the moisture from his eyes and looked again. A man wascrossing the wash on foot and he carried a rifle. A few feet out inthe wash he paused, irresolute, turned back, and knelt in the sand.
"Oh, blessed Mother of God!" Pablo almost sobbed, joyously. "I willburn six candles in thy honor and keep flowers on thy altar at theMission for a year!"
Again the man stood up and started across the wash. He no longer hadhis rifle. "It is as I thought," Pablo soliloquized. "He has buriedthe rifle in the sand."
Pablo watched the man start resolutely across the three-mile stretch offlat ground between the river and the hills to the south. Don NicolasSandoval had remarked that the stranger had come in over the hills tothe south. Very well! Believing himself undetected, he would departin the same direction. The Rancho Palomar stretched ten miles to thesouth and it would be a strange coincidence if, in that stretch ofrolling, brushy country, a human being should cross his path.
The majordomo quickly crawled back into the draw where the black marepatiently awaited him. Leading her, he started cautiously down, takingadvantage of every tuft of cover until, arrived at the foot of thedraw, he discovered that some oaks effectually screened his quarry fromsight. Reasoning quite correctly that the same oaks as effectuallyscreened him from his quarry, Pablo mounted and galloped straightacross country for his man.
He rode easily, for he was saving the mare's speed for a purpose. Thefugitive, casting a guilty look to the rear, saw him coming and paused,irresolute, but observing no evidences of precipitate haste, continuedhis retreat, which (Pablo observed, grimly) was casual now, as if hedesired to avert suspicion.
Pablo pulled the mare down to a trot, to a walk. He could afford totake his time and it was not part of his plan to bungle his work byundue baste. The fugitive was crossing through a patch of lilac andPablo desired to overhaul him in a wide open space beyond, so he urgedthe mare to a trot again and jogged by on a parallel course, a hundredyards distant.
"_Buena dias, senor_," he called, affably, and waved his hand at thestranger, who waved back.
On went the old majordomo, across the clear space and into the oaksbeyond. The fugitive, his suspicions now completely lulled, followedand when he was quite in the center of this chosen ground, Pabloemerged from the shelter of the oaks and bore down upon him. The marewas at a fast lope and Pablo's rawhide riata was uncoiled now; the loopswung in slow, fateful circles--
There could be no mistaking his purpose. With a cry that was curiouslyanimal-like, the man ran for the nearest brush. Twenty feet from him,Pablo made his cast and shrieked exultantly as the loop settled overhis prey. A jerk and it was fast around the fellow's mid-riff; a halfhitch around the pommel, a touch of a huge Mexican spur to the flank ofthe fleet little black thoroughbred and Pablo Artelan was headed forhome! He picked his way carefully in order that he might not snag inthe bushes that which he dragged behind him, and he leaned forward inthe saddle to equalize the weight of the THING that bumped and leapedand slid along the ground behind him. There had been screams at first,mingled with Pablo's exultant shouts of victory, but by the time theriver was reached there was no sound but a scraping, slitheringone--the sound of the vengeance of Pablo Artelan.
When he reached the wagon road he brought the mare to a walk. He didnot look back, for he knew his power; the scraping, slithering soundwas music to his ears; it was all the assurance he desired. As calmlyas, during the spring round-up, he dragged a calf up to the brandingfire, he dragged his victim up into the front yard of the RanchoPalomar and paused before the patio gate.
"Ho! Senor Parker!" he shouted. "Come forth. I have something forthe _senor_. Queeck, _Senor_!"
The gate opened and John Parker stepped out. "Hello, Pablo! What'sall the row about?"
Pablo turned in his saddle and pointed. "_Mira_! Look!" he croaked.
"Good God!" Parker cried. "What is that?"
"Once he use' for be one Jap. One good friend of you, I theenk, SenorParker. He like for save you much trouble, I theenk, so he keel my DonMike--an' for that I have--ah, but you see! An' now, senor, eet is allright for take the Rancho Palomar! Take eet, take eet! Ees nobody forcare now--nobody! Eef eet don' be for you daughter I don't let youhave eet. No, sir, I keel it you so queeck--but my Don Mike hes neverforget hes one great _caballero_--so Pablo Artelan mus' not forget,too--you sleep in theese hacienda, you eat the food--ah, senor, I am so'shame' for you--and my Don Mike--hees dead--hees dead--"
He slid suddenly off the black mare and lay unconscious in the dustbeside her.