"We sing the joy of life,
We sing of liberty,
We'll ne'er betray our fellow-man,
Though great the guerdon be."

Peace! . . . A few days afterward Desnoyers recalled bitterly the old
man's illusion, for war--domestic war--broke loose in this idyllic
stage-setting of ranch life.

"Run, Senor Manager, the old Patron has unsheathed his knife and is
going to kill the German!" And Desnoyers had hurried from his office,
warned by the peon's summons. Madariaga was chasing Karl, knife in hand,
stumbling over everything that blocked his way. Only his son-in-law
dared to stop him and disarm him.

"That shameless pedigreed fellow!" bellowed the livid old man as he
writhed in Desnoyers' firm clutch. "Half famished, all he thinks he has
to do is to come to my house and take away my daughters and dollars.
. . . Let me go, I tell you! Let me loose that I may kill him."

And in order to free himself from Desnoyers, he tried further to explain
the difficulty. He had accepted the Frenchman as a husband for his
daughter because he was to his liking, modest, honest . . . and serious.
But this singing Pedigreed Fellow, with all his airs! . . . He was a man
that he had gotten from . . . well, he didn't wish to say just where!
And the Frenchman, though knowing perfectly well what his introduction
to Karl had been, pretended not to understand him.

As the German had, by this time, made good his escape, the ranchman
consented to being pushed toward his house, talking all the time about