home with me."

"Child," Pablo queried, huskily, "must we leave the rancho?"

"I'm afraid we must, Pablo. I shall know more about our plans after I
have talked with Senor Parker."

X

That night, Miguel Farrel did not sleep in the great bed of his
ancestors. Instead, he lay beneath his grandmother's silk crazy-quilt
and suffered. The shock incident to the discovery of the desperate
straits to which he had been reduced had, seemingly, deprived him of the
power to think coherently. Along toward daylight, however, what with
sheer nervous exhaustion, he fell into a troubled doze from which he was
awakened at seven o'clock by the entrance of Pablo, with a pitcher of hot
water for his shaving.

"Carolina will serve breakfast, Don Miguel," he announced. "The Japanese
cook tried to throw her out of the kitchen; so I have locked him up in
the room where of old I was wont to place vaqueros who desired to settle
their quarrels without interference."

"How about food, Pablo?"

"Unfortunately, Father Dominic had neither sugar nor cream. It appears
such things are looked upon at the mission as luxuries, and the padres
have taken the vow of poverty. He could furnish nothing save half a ham,
which is of Brother Flavio's curing, and very excellent. I have tasted
it before. I was forced to ride to the Gonzales rancho for the cream and
sugar this morning, and have but a few moments ago returned."

Having deposited the pitcher of hot water, Pablo retired and, for several
minutes, Miguel Farrel lay abed, gazing at the row of portraits of
Noriagas and Farrels. His heart was heavy enough still, but the first
benumbing shock of his grief and desperation had passed, and his natural
courage and common sense were rapidly coming to his aid. He told himself
that, with the dawning of the new day, he would no longer afford the
luxury of self-pity, of vain repining for the past. He had to be up and
doing, for a man's-sized task now confronted him. He had approximately
seven months in which to rehabilitate an estate which his forebears had
been three generations in dissipating, and the Gaelic and Celtic blood in
him challenged defeat even in the very moment when, for all he knew to
the contrary, his worldly assets consisted of approximately sixty
dollars, the bonus given him by the government when parting with his
services.

"I'll not give up without a battle," he told his ancestors aloud.
"You've all contributed to my hea