"Every month or so I go down and have a chin with Padre Osuna. It keeps
my Spanish in, and I shouldn't like to lose sight of him. I got word
from him the other day that he wanted to see me mighty particular, and
I'm wonderin' what's in the wind. Maybe you heard him say."

"No," said Roldan; but he guessed.

"Now," said Hill, "spin your yarn. I'm just pinin' to hear those
adventures."

Roldan appreciated the sarcasm, but was too secure in the wealth of the
past month to resent it. He began at the beginning and told the story
with his curious combination of reserve and dramatic fire. As he had
already told it several times it ran glibly off his tongue and had
several inevitable embellishments. The man, whose cold blue eyes had
wandered at first, finally fixed themselves on Roldan; and his whole
face gradually softened. When Roldan finished with his and Adan's rescue
by Don Tiburcio's vaquero, he held out his hand and said solemnly,--

"Shake."

Roldan allowed his hand to be gripped by that hairy paw; he was too
elated to resent it as a familiarity.

"You've got pluck," continued Hill, "and I respect pluck mor' 'n
anything else on earth. You're a man and a gentleman, and Californy'll
be proud of you yet. Got any more?"

Roldan related the tale of Rafael's prowess with the bull, his own