VII
At seven o'clock, dinner being over, Kay excused herself to the familyand Mr. Okada, passed out through the patio gate, and sought a benchwhich she had noticed under a catalpa tree outside the wall. From thisseat, she, like Pablo, could observe anybody coming up the palm-linedavenue. A young moon was rising over the hills, and by its light Kayknew she could detect Don Mike while he was yet some distance from thehouse.
At seven-thirty, he had not appeared, and she grew impatient andstrolled round to the other side of the hacienda. Before Pablo's_casa_, she saw the red end of a cigarette; so she knew that Pablo alsowatched.
"I _must_ see him first," she decided. "Pablo's heart is right towardDon Mike, but resentful toward us. I do not want him to pass thatresentment on to his master."
She turned back round the hacienda again, crossed down over the lip ofthe mesa at right angles to the avenue, and picked her way through theoaks. When she was satisfied that Pablo could not see her, she madeher way back to the avenue, emerging at the point where it connectedwith the wagon-road down the valley. Just off the avenue, a live-oakhad fallen, and Kay sat down on the trunk of it to watch and wait.
Presently she saw him coming, and her heart fluttered in fear at themeeting. She, who had for months marked the brisk tread of militarymen, sensed now the drag, the slow cadence of his approach; whereforeshe realized that he knew! In the knowledge that she would not have tobreak the news to him, a sense of comfort stole over her.
As he came closer, she saw that he walked with his chin on his breast;when he reached the gate at the end of the avenue, he did not see itand bumped into it. "_Dios mio_!" she heard him mutter. "_Dios!Dios! Dios!_" The last word ended in tragic crescendo; he leaned onthe gate, and there, in the white silence, the last of the Farrelsstood gazing up the avenue as if he feared to enter.
Kay sat on the oak trunk, staring at him, fascinated by the tragictableau.
Suddenly, from the hacienda, a hound gave tongue--a long, bell-likebaying, with a timbre in it that never creeps into a hound's voiceuntil he has struck a warm scent. Another hound took up the cry--andstill another. Don Mike started.
"That's Nip!" Kay heard him murmur, as the first hound sounded. "Now,Mollie! Come now, Nailer! Where's Hunter? Hunter's dead! You'vescented me!"
Across the mesa, the pack came bellowing, scattering the wet leavesamong the oaks as they took the short cut to the returning master.Into the avenue they swept; the leader leaped for the top of the gate,poised there an instant, and fell over into Don Mike's arms. Theothers followed, overwhelming him. They licked his hands; they soiledhim with their reaching paws, the while their cries of welcometestified to their delight. Presently, one grew jealous of the otherin the mad scramble for his caressing hand, and Nip bit Mollie, whoretaliated by biting Nailer, who promptly bit Nip, thus completing thevicious circle. In an instant, they were battling each other.
"Stop it!" Don Mike commanded. "Break!"
They "broke" at his command, and, forgetting their animosities, beganrunning in circles, in a hopeless effort to express their happiness.Suddenly, as if by common impulse, they appeared to remember aneglected duty, and fled noisily whence they had come.
"Ah, only my dogs to welcome me!" Kay heard Don Mike murmur. And thenthe stubborn tears came and blinded him, so he did not see her whitefigure step out into the avenue and come swiftly toward him. The firsthe knew of her presence was when her hand touched his glistening blackhead bent on his arms over the top rail of the gate.
"No, no, Don Mike," he heard a sweet voice protesting; "somebody elsecares, too. We wouldn't be human if we didn't. Please--please try notto feel so badly about it."
He raised his haggard face.
"Ah, yes--you!" he cried. "You--you've been waiting here--for me?"
"Yes. I wanted to tell you--to explain before you got to the house.We didn't know, you see--and the notice was so terribly short; butwe'll go in the morning. I've saved dinner for you, Don Mike--and yourold room is ready for you. Oh, you don't know how sorry I am for you,you poor man!"
He hid his face again.
"Don't--please!" he cried, in a choked voice. "I can't standsympathy--to-night--from you!"
She laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Come, come; you must buck up, old soldier," she assured him. "You'llhave to meet Pablo and Carolina very soon."
"I'm so alone and desperate," he muttered, through clenched teeth."You can't--realize what this means--to me. My father was an oldman--he had--accomplished his years--and I weep for him, because Iloved--him. But oh, my home--this--dear land--"
He choked, and, in that moment, she forgot that this man was a strangerto her. She only knew that he had been stricken, that he was helpless,that he lacked the greatest boon of the desolate--a breast upon whichhe might weep. Gently she lifted the black head and drew it down onher shoulder; her arm went round his neck and patted his cheek, and hisfull heart was emptied.
There was so much of the little boy about him!