who outbids me for that horse will have to mortgage his ranch and
borrow money on his Liberty Bonds."

"We shall see that which we shall see," he returned, enigmatically.
"Waiter, bring me my check, please."

While the waiter was counting out the change from a twenty-dollar bill,
Farrel resumed his conversation with the girl.

"Do you plan to remain in the San Gregorio very long?"

"All summer, I think."

He rose from his chair and bowed to her with an Old-World courtliness.

"Once more I thank you for your kindness to me, _señorita_," he said.
"It is a debt that I shall always remember--and rejoice because I can
never repay it. I dare say we shall meet again in the very near
future, and when we do, I am going to arrange matters so that I may
have the honor of being properly introduced." He pocketed his change.
"Until some day in the San Gregorio, then," he finished, "_adios_!"

Despite his smile, her woman's intuition told her that something more
poignant than the threatened Japanese invasion of the San Gregorio
valley had cast a shadow over his sunny soul. She concluded it must
have been the news of the death of his childhood chum, the beloved Don
Mike.

"What a wonderful fellow Don Mike must have been!" she mused. "White
men sing his praises, and Indians and mixed breeds cry them. No wonder