oods and willows, beyond a long dusty road which led through
fields and canon and over more than one hill--was the old adobe house of
the Rancho de los Olivos.

Talbot was a practical man of business to-day. The olive orchard was
his, the toy hotel at the end of the plateau, the land upon which had
grown the rough village, with its one store, its prosperous saloon, its
post-office, and several shanties of citizens not altogether estimable.
He was also a man of affairs, for he had represented the district for
two years at the State Legislature, and was spoken of as a future
Senator. It cannot be said that the people among whom he had spent so
many years of his life loved him, for he was reserved and had never been
known to slap a man on the back. Moreover, it was believed that he
subscribed to a San Francisco daily paper, which he did not place on
file in the saloon, and that he had a large library of books in one of
his rooms at the Mission. As far as the neighbors could see, the priest
was the only man in the district in whom he found companionship.
Nevertheless he was respected and trusted as a man must be who has never
broken his word nor taken advantage of another for twenty-three years;
and even those who resented the manifest antagonism of his back to the
national familiarity felt that the dignity and interest of the State
would be safe in his hands. Even those most in favor of rotation had
concluded that it would not be a bad idea to put him in Congress for
life, after the tacit fashion of the New England States. At all events
they would try him in the House of Representatives for two or three
terms, and then, if he satisfied their expectations and demonstrated his
usefulness, they would "work" the State and send him to the United
States Senate. Santa Ursula had but one street, but its saloon was the
heart of a hundred-mile radius. And it was as proud as an old don. When
its leading citizen became known far and wide as "Talbot of Ursula," a
title conferred by the members of his Legislature to distinguish him
from two colleagues of the same name, its pride in him knew no bounds.
The local papers found it an effective head-line, and the title clung to
him for the rest of his life.

It was only when a newspaper interviewed Talbot after his election to
the State Senate that his district learned that he was by birth an
Englishman. He had emigrated with his parents at the age of fourteen,
however, and as the populatio