s, why may we not be neighbors--friends?"

She tried to protest, but he rushed on, giving her no opportunity.
"Senorita, I am not a man devoid of culture. I am not a sailor or a
trapper like those ruffians below. Nor a keeper of shops. Senorita, I
will give up gambling and become a ranchero. If--" he stammered,
"If I--"

Inez Windham took a backward step. Her breath came sharply. In this
man's absurd confusion there was written plainer than his uncompleted
words could phrase it, what he meant.

"No, no," her little hands went out as if to ward off some repulsive
thing. "Senor--that is quite impossible."

McTurpin saw the look of horror, of aversion. He felt as though someone
had struck him in the face. There was a little silence. Then he
laughed, shortly.

"Impossible?" the tone was cutting. "We shall see.... This is now a
white man's country. I have offered to divide the rancho. What if I
should take it all? Where would you go? You, the proud Senora and the
shiftless young Benito?"

The Senorita Inez' lips curled. "When my father comes he will know how
to answer you," she told him, hotly.

"If he were alive he would have come long since," McTurpin answered.
"Many perish on the northern trails." He took a step toward her. "Do you
know that this morning 200 more Americans arrived on the ship Brooklyn?
They are armed and there is talk of 'running out the greasers.' Do you
know what that means? It were well to have a friend at court, my
little lady."

"Go!" the girl blazed at him. "Go, and quickly--liar that you are. My
brother and his vaqueros will know how to protect my mother and me." She
sprang upon her horse and galloped toward the rancho. McTurpin, red and
angry, watched her disappearing in a whirl of dust.

* * * * *

"Look, my brother! He has spoken truly." Inez and Benito had ridden to
the pueblo for a confirmation of McTurpin's words. They hitched their
horses at the rack in Portsmouth Square and walked down toward the
landing place. A large ship lay in the offing. Between her and the shore
many small boats laden with passengers and varied cargoes plied to
and fro.

Inez, as they descended, noted many women clad in the exaggerated
hoopskirts, the curious, short, gathered bodices and the low hats of the
early forties. She thought this apparel oddly ugly, though the faces
were not unattractive. They stood in knots, these women, some of them
gazing rather helplessly abou