ation.

"Up in Colina." It was Mrs. Gallito that spoke.

An up-darting gleam of suddenly aroused interest and curiosity flashed
for a moment in Bob Flick's eyes. Was it possible that at the mention of
that name Hanson had started and that something which might have been
taken for the shadow of dismay had overfallen his face?

"Fine mining camp," Flick commented. "You know it at all, Mr. Hanson?"

Hanson had scratched a match to light his cigarette, but now he lifted
his eyes and looked across its tiny flare straight at Flick. "No," he
said indifferently, "never was in it in my life."

His tone and manner were both open and convincing, and yet the ruddy
color, as Flick noticed with merciless satisfaction, had not returned to
his face.

"He's an awful queer man," confided Mrs. Gallito in a low voice to
Hanson. "I suppose," with a sigh, "it's the Spanish of him. Just think,"
she spoke as one who has never overcome an unmitigated wonder, "born in
the sawdust same as me; his folks from way back all in the business, and
him with no use for it. Never rested till he got away from it. Why, he
didn't even want me to train Pearl, but," and here triumph rang in her
tones, "he couldn't help that. She took to it like a duck takes to
water. Always ready for it, never cried or complained at the long
hours."

"She's sure got cause to be grateful to you." Hanson spoke sincerely.

"I wouldn't have known what else to do with a child," said Mrs. Gallito
simply. "I always saw them trained that way. But her Pop didn't stand
for it."

During this conversation Pearl and Flick had risen and, with Lolita
still on Flick's shoulder, had sauntered down through the garden.

Seeing this, Rudolf, with his customary philosophy, made the best of the
situation. "Well," with rather vague gallantry, "I don't see how he can
stay away from a home like this."

"It's the Spanish of him." This was Mrs. Gallito's explanation of all
the eccentricities in which her husband might indulge. "And," with
unwonted optimism, "maybe it's a blessing, too, 'cause he's awful queer.
And, anyway, he's what they call a man's man. Why, you might think he
lived all by himself up there in Colina; but he don't. He's got more old
Spaniards around"--she raised her eyes--"and they're the awfullest!
Cut-throats and pirates, I call 'em. They come up from the coast. And
it's funny, too," she exclaimed in a sort of querulous wonder, "because
Gallito's awful respectable himself