bore a striking physical
resemblance to one they mourned as dead, the men so saluted returned his
greeting.

The few who had recognized him as he entered the town, quickly, by their
cries of greeting, roused the loungers and idle conversationalists along
the sidewalks further down the street. There was a rush to shop doors, a
craning of necks, excited inquiries in Spanish and English; more shouts
of greeting. A gaunt, hawk-faced elderly man, with Castilian features,
rode up on a bay horse, showed a sheriff's badge to William, the
chauffeur, and informed him he was arrested for speeding. Then he
pressed his horse close enough to extend a hand to Farrel.

"Miguel, my boy," he said in English, out of deference to the girl in the
car, "this is a very great--a very unexpected joy. We have grieved for
you, my friend."

His faint clipped accent, the tears in his eyes, told Kay that this man
was one of Don Miguel's own people. Farrel clasped the proffered hand
and replied to him in Spanish; then, remembering his manners, he
presented the horseman as Don Nicolas Sandoval, sheriff of the county.
Don Nicolas bent low over his horse's neck, his wide gray hat clasped to
his gallant heart.

"You will forgive the emotion of a foolish old man, Miss Parker," he
said, "but we of San Marcos County love this boy."

Other friends now came running; in a few minutes perhaps a hundred men,
boys, and women had surrounded the car, struggling to get closer, vying
with each other to greet the hero of the San Gregorio. They babbled
compliments and jocularities at him; they cheered him lustily; with
homely bucolic wit they jeered his army record because they were so proud
of it, and finally they began a concerted cry of; "Speech! Speech!
Speech!"

Don Mike stood up in the tonneau and removed his hat. Instantly silence
settled over the crowd, and Kay thought that she had never seen a more
perfect tribute of respect paid anyone. He spoke to them briefly, with a
depth of sentiment only possible in a descendant of two of the most
sentimental races on earth; but he was not maudlin. When he had
concluded his remarks, he repeated them in Spanish for the benefit of
those who had never learned English very well or at all.

And now, although Kay did not understand a word of what he said, she
realized that in his mother tongue he was infinitely more tender, more
touching, more dramatic than he could possibly be in English, for his
audience