might want to run down and look at the no-'count land," he said with a
laugh.

"I think it fair to inform you, sir, that the feeling of the country
down there is in favor of the Valdés grant. The peons are hot-tempered,
and are likely to resent any attempt to change the existing conditions.
Your presence, _señor_, would be a danger."

"Much obliged, Don Manuel. Tell 'em from me that I got a bad habit of
wearing a six-gun, and that if they get to resenting too arduous it's
likely to ventilate their enthusiasm."

Once more the New Mexican bowed stiffly before he retired.

Pesquiera had overplayed his hand. He had stirred in the miner an
interest born of curiosity and a sense of romantic possibilities. Dick
wanted to see this daughter of Castile who was still to the
simple-hearted shepherds of the valley a princess of the blood royal.
Don Manuel was very evidently her lover. Perhaps it was his imagination
that had mixed the magic potion that lent an atmosphere of old-world
pastoral charm to the story of the Valdés grant. Likely enough the girl
would prove commonplace in a proud half-educated fashion that would be
intolerable for a stranger.

But even without the help of the New Mexican the situation was one which
called for a thorough personal investigation. Gordon was a hard-headed
American business man, though he held within him the generous and
hare-brained potentialities of a soldier of fortune. He meant to find
out just what the Moreño grant was worth. After he had investigated his
legal standing he would look over the valley of the Chama himself. He