devotion in the careless youth. In fact, my eyes were still dazzled by
the effect of the outer sunshine, and at first I did not see the white
teeth and black eyes of Pepita, who slipped into the corridor as we
entered.

It was no pleasant matter to disclose particulars of business which
would deprive the old senor of the greater part of that land we had
just ridden over, and I did it with great embarrassment. But he listened
calmly--not a muscle of his dark face stirring--and the smoke curling
placidly from his lips showed his regular respiration. When I had
finished, he offered quietly to accompany us to the line of demarcation.
George had meanwhile disappeared, but a suspicious conversation in
broken Spanish and English, in the corridor, betrayed his vicinity.
When he returned again, a little absent-minded, the old man, by far
the coolest and most self-possessed of the party, extinguished his
black-silk cap beneath that stiff, uncomely sombrero which all native
Californians affect. A serape thrown over his shoulders hinted that he
was waiting. Horses are always ready saddled in Spanish ranchos, and in
half an hour from the time of our arrival we were again "loping" in the
staring sunlight.

But not as cheerfully as before. George and myself were weighed down by
restraint, and Altascar was gravely quiet. To break the silence, and by
way of a consolatory essay, I hinted to him that there might be further
intervention or appeal, but the proffered oil and wine were returned
with a careless shrug of the shoulders and a sententious "QUE
BUENO?--Your courts are always just."

The Indian mound of the previous night's discovery was a bearing
monument of the new line, and there we halted. We were surprised to find