the price of the big work horses
had increased steadily. After the great earthquake, the price had
jumped; yet it had never gone back.

"Billy, you make more money as a horse-buyer than a common laborer,
don't you?" Mrs. Mortimer asked. "Very well, then. You won't have to
drain the meadow, or plow it, or anything. You keep right on buying
horses. Work with your head. But out of what you make you will please
pay the wages of one laborer for Saxon's vegetables. It will be a good
investment, with quick returns."

"Sure," he agreed. "That's all anybody hires any body for--to make money
outa 'm. But how Saxon an' one man are goin' to work them five acres,
when Mr. Hale says two of us couldn't do what's needed on two acres, is
beyond me."

"Saxon isn't going to work," Mrs. Mortimer retorted.

"Did you see me working at San Jose? Saxon is going to use her head.
It's about time you woke up to that. A dollar and a half a day is what
is earned by persons who don't use their heads. And she isn't going to
be satisfied with a dollar and a half a day. Now listen. I had a long
talk with Mr. Hale this afternoon. He says there are practically no
efficient laborers to be hired in the valley."

"I know that," Billy interjected. "All the good men go to the cities.
It's only the leavin's that's left. The good ones that stay behind ain't
workin' for wages."

"Which is perfectly true, every word. Now listen, children. I knew about
it, and I spoke to Mr. Hale. He is prepared to make the arrangements for
you. He knows all about it himself, and is in touch with the Warden. In
short, you will parole two good-conduct prisoners from San Quentin; and
they will be gardeners. There are plenty of Chinese and Italians there,
and they are the best truck-farmers. You kill two birds with one stone.
You serve the poor convicts, and you serve yourselves."

Saxon hesitated, shocked; while Billy gravely considered the question.

"You know John," Mrs. Mortimer went on, "Mr. Hale's man about the place?
How do you like him?"

"Oh, I was wishing only to-day that we could find somebody like him,"
Saxon said eagerly. "He's such a dear, faithful soul. Mrs. Hale told me
a lot of fine things about him."

"There's one thing she didn't tell you," smiled Mrs. Mortimer. "John is
a paroled convict. Twenty-eight years ago, in hot blood, he killed a
man in a quarrel over sixty-five cents. He's been out of prison with
the Hales three years now. You remember Louis,