The glowering glance of suspicion and resentment faded slowly from old
Pablo's swarthy countenance. He scrambled to his feet and swept the
ground with his old straw sombrero,

"I am at the service of the _señorita_," he replied, gravely.

"Thank you, Pablo. I just wanted to tell you that you need not carry
that rifle any more. I shall see to it that you are not removed from
the ranch."

He stared at her with stolid interest.

"_Muchas gracias, señorita_," he mumbled. Then, remembering she did
not understand Spanish, he resumed in English: "I am an old man, mees.
Since my two boss he's die, pretty soon Pablo die, too. For what use
eet is for live now I don' tell you. Those ol' man who speak me leave
theese rancho--he is your father, no?"

"Yes, Pablo. And he isn't such a terrible man, once you get acquainted
with him."

"I don' like," Pablo muttered frankly. "He have eye like
lookin'-glass. Mebbeso for you, mees, eet is different, but for Pablo
Artelan--" he shrugged. "Eef Don Mike is here, nobody can talk to
me like dose ol' man, your father, he speak to me." And he wagged his
head sorrowfully.

Kay came close to him.

"Listen, Pablo: I have a secret for you. You, must not tell anybody.