facts. Rene, Comte de
Bourgueil, had two sons, and no kinsmen whatever.

"Your man," said the Consul discreetly, "must be somebody--you say he
is _somebody_--well, somebody else!"

"Another Wilkins," said I.

"Pooh!" ejaculated Ajax.

"No Frenchman of the Comte de Bourgueil's position and rank--he is a
godson, you know, of the Comte de Chambord--would come to California
without my knowledge," said the Consul.

The day after our return to the ranch we rode over to see how the
Baron fared. We found him in a tent pitched as far as possible from
the evil-smelling lake. Passing the bungalow, we had noted that six
weeks' uninterrupted sunshine had played havoc with the Baron's
garden. The man himself, moreover, seemed to have wilted. The sun had
sucked the colour from his eyes and cheeks. Of a sudden, old age had
overtaken him.

He greeted us with his usual courtesy, and asked if we had enjoyed our
holiday. We told him many things about Del Monte, but we didn't
mention the French Consul. Then, in our turn, we begged for such news
as he might have. He replied solemnly--

"I speak no more wiz ze Dumbles. Old man Dumble ees a fraud.
_Moi_, I abominate frauds--_hein?_ He obtain my money onder
false pretences, is it not so? Ah, yes; but I forgive 'im, because he
is poor. But also, since you go, he obtain my secret--I haf a secret--
under false pretences. Oh, ze _canaille_! I tell 'im that if 'e
were my equal I would wiz my sword s-spit 'im. Because 'e is
_canaille_ I s-s-spit at 'im. _Voila!_"

The old fellow was trembling with rage and indignation. Ajax said
gravely--

"We foreigners mustn't spit at free-born American citizens. What
spitting is done here, they do themselves."

"You have right. Ze _canaille_ say to me, to _me_, 'Come,'
he say, 'come, Baron, I have one six-shooter, one shot-gun, two
pitchfork, three spade, and one mowing-machine. Take your choice,' he
say, 'and we can fight till ze cows come home!' He use zose words,
_mes amis_, 'till ze cows come home!' _Tiens!_ Ze Frisian-
Holstein cows, who go dry when zey do come home--_hein?_"

He was so furiously angry that we dared not laugh, but we were
consumed with curiosity to know what secret Dumble had stolen. The
Baron did not inform us.

Fortunately for our peace of mind, Dumble came to us early next
morning. He went to the marrow of the matter at once.

"Boys," said he, "I want you to fix up things between me an' that
crazy Frenchman. How's that?