Suddenly, from the hacienda, a hound gave tongue--a long, bell-like
baying, with a timbre in it that never creeps into a hound's voice
until he has struck a warm scent. Another hound took up the cry--and
still another. Don Mike started.

"That's Nip!" Kay heard him murmur, as the first hound sounded. "Now,
Mollie! Come now, Nailer! Where's Hunter? Hunter's dead! You've
scented me!"

Across the mesa, the pack came bellowing, scattering the wet leaves
among the oaks as they took the short cut to the returning master.
Into the avenue they swept; the leader leaped for the top of the gate,
poised there an instant, and fell over into Don Mike's arms. The
others followed, overwhelming him. They licked his hands; they soiled
him with their reaching paws, the while their cries of welcome
testified to their delight. Presently, one grew jealous of the other
in the mad scramble for his caressing hand, and Nip bit Mollie, who
retaliated by biting Nailer, who promptly bit Nip, thus completing the
vicious circle. In an instant, they were battling each other.

"Stop it!" Don Mike commanded. "Break!"

They "broke" at his command, and, forgetting their animosities, began
running in circles, in a hopeless effort to express their happiness.
Suddenly, as if by common impulse, they appeared to remember a
neglected duty, and fled noisily whence they had come.

"Ah, only my dogs to welcome me!" Kay heard Don Mike murmur. And then
the stubborn tears came and blinded him, so he did not see her white
figure step out into the avenue and come swiftly toward him. The first