Victor (amazedly). "Never! It is a sterile waste. Am I a fool?"

Miguel (softly). "Thou didst. Of thy Governor, Micheltorena. I have seen
the application."

Victor (beginning to appreciate a rodential odor). "Si! I had forgotten.
Art thou sure it was in the valley?"

Miguel (persuasively). "In the valley and up the falda."*

* Falda, or valda, i. e., that part of the skirt of a
woman's robe that breaks upon the ground, and is also
applied to the final slope of a hill, from the angle that it
makes upon the level plain.

Victor (with decision). "Certainly. Of a verity,--the falda likewise."

Miguel (eying Victor). "And yet thou hadst not the grant. Painful is
it that it should have been burned with the destruction of the other
archives, by the Americanos at Monterey."

Victor (cautiously feeling his way). "Possiblemente."

Miguel. "It might be wise to look into it."

Victor (bluntly). "As why?"

Miguel. "For our good and thine, friend Victor. We bring thee a
discovery; thou bringest us thy skill, thy experience, thy government
knowledge,--thy Custom House paper."*