"But this Japanese cook of _Señor_ Parker's, Don Miguel?"

"I am not in a mood to be troubled by trifles tonight, Pablo."

"I understand, Don Miguel. The matter may safely be entrusted to me."
He picked up the tray. "Sweet rest to you, sir, and may our Saviour
grant a quick healing to your bruised heart. Good-night."

"Good-night, Pablo." Farrel rose and laid his hand on the old
retainer's shoulder. "I never bothered to tell you this before, Pablo,
but I want you to know that I do appreciate you and Carolina
tremendously. You've stuck to me and mine, and you'll always have a
home with me."

"Child," Pablo queried, huskily, "must we leave the rancho?"

"I'm afraid we must, Pablo. I shall know more about our plans after I
have talked with Señor Parker."




X

That night, Miguel Farrel did not sleep in the great bed of his
ancestors. Instead, he lay beneath his grandmother's silk crazy-quilt
and suffered. The shock incident to the discovery of the desperate
straits to which he had been reduced had, seemingly, deprived him of the
power to think coherently. Along toward daylight, however, what with