he had come.

About nine o'clock Don Mike left the Mission and walked home. On the
hills to the north he caught the glare of a camp-fire against the
silvery sky; wherefore he knew that Don Nicolas Sandoval and his
deputies were guarding the Loustalot sheep.

At ten o'clock he entered the patio. In a wicker chaise-longue John
Parker lounged on the porch outside his room; Farrel caught the scent
of his cigar on the warm, semi-tropical night, saw the red end of it
gleaming like a demon's eye.

"Hello, Mr. Farrel," Parker greeted him. "Won't you sit down and smoke
a cigar with me before turning in?"

"Thank you. I shall be happy to." He crossed the garden to his guest,
sat down beside him and gratefully accepted the fragrant cigar Parker
handed him. A moment later Kay joined them.

"Wonderful night," Parker remarked. "Mrs. P. retired early, but Kay
and I sat up chatting and enjoying the peaceful loveliness of this old
garden. A sleepless mocking bird and a sleepy little thrush gave a
concert in the sweet-lime tree; a couple of green frogs in the fountain
rendered a bass duet; Kay thought that if we remained very quiet the
spirits of some lovers of the 'splendid idle forties' might appear in
your garden."

The mood of the night was still upon the girl. In the momentary
silence that followed she commenced singing softly:

I saw an old-fashioned missus,
Taking old-fashioned kisses,
In an old-fashioned garden,
From an old-fashioned beau.

Don Mike slid off the porch and went to his own room, returning
presently with a guitar. "I've been wanting to play a little," he
confessed as he tuned the neglected instrument, "but it seemed sort of
sacrilegious--after coming home and finding my father gone and the
ranch about to go. However--why sip sorrow with a long spoon? What's
that ballad about the old-fashioned garden, Miss Kay? I like it. If
you'll hum it a few times--"

Ten minutes later he knew the simple little song and was singing it
with her. Mrs. Parker, in dressing gown, slippers and boudoir cap,
despairing of sleep until all of the members of her family had first
preceded her to bed, came out and joined them; presently they were all
singing happily together, while Don Mike played or faked an
accompaniment.

At eleven o'clock Farrel gave a final vigorous strum to the guitar and
stood up to say good-night.

"Shall we sing again to-morrow night, Don Mike?" Kay demanded, eagerly.

Farrel's