ny, nearly a hundred
men. And De La Cuesta sent a horse for the girl to ride, white, pure
white; and the saddle was of red leather; the head-stall, the bit,
and buckles, all the metal work, of virgin silver. Well, there was
a ceremony in the Monterey Mission, and Esteban, in the name of his
brother, was married to the girl. On our way back, De La Cuesta rode
out to meet us. His company met ours at Agatha dos Palos. Never will
I forget De La Cuesta's face as his eyes fell upon the girl. It was a
look, a glance, come and gone like THAT," he snapped his fingers. "No
one but I saw it, but I was close by. There was no mistaking that look.
De La Cuesta was disappointed."

"And the girl?" demanded Presley.

"She never knew. Ah, he was a grand gentleman, De La Cuesta. Always he
treated her as a queen. Never was husband more devoted, more respectful,
more chivalrous. But love?" The old fellow put his chin in the air,
shutting his eyes in a knowing fashion. "It was not there. I could tell.
They were married over again at the Mission San Juan de Guadalajara--OUR
Mission--and for a week all the town of Guadalajara was in fete. There
were bull-fights in the Plaza--this very one--for five days, and to each
of his tenants-in-chief, De La Cuesta gave a horse, a barrel of tallow,
an ounce of silver, and half an ounce of gold dust. Ah, those were days.
That was a gay life. This"--he made a comprehensive gesture with his
left hand--"this is stupid."

"You may well say that," observed Presley moodily, discouraged by the
other's talk. All his doubts and uncertainty had returned to him. Never
would he grasp the subject of his great poem. To-day, the life was
colourless. Romance was dead. He had lived too late. To write of the
past was not what he desired. Reality was what he longed for, things
that he had seen. Yet how to make this compatible with romance. He rose,
putting on his hat, offering the old man a cigarette. The centenarian
accepted with the air of a grandee, and extended his horn snuff-box.
Presley shook his head.

"I was born too late for that," he declared, "for that, and for many
other things. Adios."

"You are travelling to-day, senor?"

"A little turn through the country, to get the kinks out of the
muscles," Presley answered. "I go up into the Quien Sabe, into the high
country beyond the Mission."

"Ah, the Quien Sabe rancho. The sheep are grazing there this week."

Solotari, the keeper of the restaurant, explained