n me with the fear," she
grumbled as she fastened the yellow sash over the white lawn into
which Billie had dashed hurriedly. "It is not a joke to be caught in
the raiding of Ramon Rotil, or any of the other accursed! Who could
think it was south you were riding? I was the one to send them north
in the search, every man of them, and Senor Conrad looks knives at me.
That man thinks I am a liar, sure he does! and the saints know I was
honest and knew nothing."

"Sure you know nothing, never could and never did, you dear old bag of
cotton," and Billie pinched affectionately the fat arm of Tia Luz and
tickled her under her fat chin. "Quick Luzita, and fasten me up.
Supper waits, and men are always raving wolves."

She caught up a string of amber beads and clasped it about her throat
as she ran across the patio, and Kit Rhodes halted a moment in the
corridor to watch her.

"White and gold and heavenly lovely," he thought as he rumpled his
crisp brown curls meditatively, all forgetful of the earnest attempts
he had just made to smooth them decorously with the aid of a damp
towel and a pocket comb. "White and gold and a silver spoon, and a
back seat for you, Kittie boy!"

Captain Pike emerged from a door at the corner of the patio. He also
had damp hair, a shiny face, and a brand-new neckerchief with indigo
circles on a white ground.

"Look at this, will you?" he piped gleefully. "Billie's the greatest
child ever! Always something stuck under the pillow like you'd hide
candy for a kid, and say,--if any of the outfit would chuck another
hombre in my bunk the little lady would raise hell from here to
Pinecate, and worse than that there ain't any this side of the
European centers of civilization. Come on in, supper's ready."

Rhodes hesitated at the door of the dining room, suddenly conscious of
a dusty blouse and a much faded shirt. His spurs clink-clanked as he
strode along the tiling of the patio, and in the semi-twilight he felt
at home in the ranch house, but one look at the soft glow of the
shaded lamps, and the foot deep of Mexican needlework on the table
cover, gave him a picture of home such as he had not seen on the
ranges.

Singleton was in spotless white linen, the ideal southern ranchman's
home garb, while the mistress of all the enticing picture was in white
and gold, and flushing pink as she met the grave appreciative gaze of
Rhodes.

"H'lo little Santa Claus," chirruped Pike. "It's just the proper caper