of him. But I mustn't take your time over our affairs. I think you
mentioned business, sir?"

The Castilian leaned forward and fixed his black, piercing eyes on the
other. Straight into his business he plunged.

"Señor Gordon, have you ever heard of the Valdés grant?"

"Not to remember it. What kind of a grant is it?"

"It is a land grant, made by Governor Facundo Megares, of New Mexico,
which territory was then a province of Spain, to Don Fernando Valdés, in
consideration of services rendered the Spanish crown against the
Indians."

Dick shook his head. "You've got me, sir. If I ever heard of it the
thing has plumb slipped my mind. Ought I to know about it?"

"Have you ever heard of the Moreño grant?"

Somewhere in the back of the young man's mind a faint memory stirred. He
seemed to see an old man seated at a table in a big room with a carved
fireplace. The table was littered with papers, and the old gentleman was
explaining them to a woman. She was his daughter, Dick's mother. A slip
of a youngster was playing about the room with two puppies. That little
five-year-old was the young mine operator.

"I have," he answered calmly.

"You know, then, that a later governor of the territory, Manuel Armijo,