stop to be thanked. But that was the whole truth. He, Incarnacion, could
swear to it as to the Creed. There was nothing more."

"Take those beasts around the back way to the corral," said Peyton,
thoroughly enraged, "and not a word of this to any one at the casa, do
you hear? Not a word to Mrs. Peyton or the servants, or, by Heaven, I'll
clear the rancho of the whole lazy crew of you at once. Out of the way
there, and be off!"

He spurred his horse past the frightened menial, and dashed down the
narrow lane that led to the gate. But, as Incarnacion had truly said,
"It was an evil day," for at the bottom of the lane, ambling slowly
along as he lazily puffed a yellow cigarette, appeared the figure of
the erring Pedro. Utterly unconscious of the accident, attributing the
disappearance of his charges to the inequalities of the plain, and,
in truth, little interested in what he firmly believed was his purely
artificial function, he had even made a larger circuit to stop at a
wayside fonda for refreshments.

Unfortunately, there is no more illogical sequence of human emotion than
the exasperation produced by the bland manner of the unfortunate object
who has excited it, although that very unconcern may be the convincing
proof of innocence of intention. Judge Peyton, already influenced, was
furious at the comfortable obliviousness of his careless henchman, and
rode angrily towards him. Only a quick turn of Pedro's wrist kept the
two men from coming into collision.

"Is this the way you attend to your duty?" demanded Peyton, in a thick,
suppressed voice, "Where is the buggy? Where is my daughter?"