"Well, isn't it beautiful? Isn't it wonderful?" He was serious now.

"One-half of your state is worthless mountain country--"

"He-country--and beautiful!" he interrupted.

"The other half is desert."

"Ever see the Mojave in the late afternoon from the top of the Tejon
Pass?" he challenged. "The wild, barbaric beauty of it? And with
water it would be a garden-spot."

"Of course your valleys are wonderful."

"_Gracias, señorita_."

"But the bare brown hills in summer-time--and the ghost-rivers of the
South! I do not think they are beautiful."

"They grow on one," he assured her earnestly. "You wait and see. I
wish you could ride over the hills back of Sespe with me this
afternoon, and see the San Gregorio valley in her new spring gown. Ah,
how my heart yearns for the San Gregorio!"

To her amazement, she detected a mistiness in his eyes, and her
generous heart warmed to him.

"How profoundly happy you are!" she commented.

"'Happy'? I should tell a man! I'm as happy as a cock valley-quail