"Be serious. Panchito--I was passing the blacksmith's shop, and I
simply had to step in and admire him."

"That tickled old Pablo to death--of course."

"It did. He put Panchito through all of his tricks for me, and, after
the horse was shod, he permitted me to ride the dear for half an hour.
Pablo was so kind! He waited until I could run back to the hotel and
change into my riding-habit."

"Did you try to give Pablo some money--say, about five dollars?" he
demanded, smilingly.

"Yes." Her eyes betrayed wonder.

"He declined it with profuse thanks, didn't he?"

"You're the queerest man I've ever met. Pablo did refuse it. How did
you know?"

"I know Pablo. He wouldn't take money from a lady. It's against the
code of the Rancho Palomar, and if his boss ever heard that he had
fractured that code, he'd skin him alive."

"Not Pablo's boss. Pablo told me his Don Mike, as he calls him, was
killed by the bewhiskered devils in a cold country the name of which he
had heard but could not remember. He meant Siberia."

Farrel sat up suddenly.