ared
the trouble of visiting them individually. Don Nicolas Sandoval
remarked when he collected that Loustalot judgment for me that he
supposed I'd do the decent thing, now that I could afford it. Mother
Sepulvida suggested it and Anita seconded the motion. It will probably
be the last event of its kind on such a scale ever given in California,
and when it is finished it will have marked my transition from an
indolent _ranchero_ to some sort of commercial go-getter."

"I see. Little Mike, the Hustler."

He nodded, rose and stood before her, smiling down at her with an
inscrutable little smile. "Will you motor me in to El Toro to-morrow
morning?" he pleaded. "I must go there to arrange for cattle cars."

"Of course."

"Thank you, Kay. Now, if I have your permission to withdraw, I think I
shall make myself presentable for dinner."

He hesitated a moment before withdrawing, however, meanwhile gazing
down on her with a gaze so intent that the girl flushed a little.
Suddenly his hand darted out and he had her adorable little chin
clasped between his brown thumb and forefinger, shaking it with little
shakes of mock ferocity. He seemed about to deliver some important
announcement--impassioned, even, but to her huge disgust he smothered
the impulse, jerked his hand away as if he had scorched his fingers,
and blushed guiltily. "Oh, I'm a sky-blue idiot," he half growled and
left her abruptly.

A snort--to a hunter it would have been vaguely reminiscent of that of
an old buck deer suddenly disturbed in a thicket--caused her to look
up. At the corner of the wall Pablo Artelan stood, staring at her with
alert interest; his posture was one of a man suddenly galvanized into
immobility. Kay blushed, but instantly decided to appear nonchalant.

"Good evening, Pablo," she greeted the majordomo. "How do you feel
after your long, hard day on the range?"

"_Gracias_, mees. Myself, I feel pretty good. When my boss hees
happy--well--Pablo Artelan hees happy just the same."

The girl noted his emphasis. "That's very nice of you, Pablo, I'm
sure. Have you any idea," she continued with bland innocence, "why Don
Miguel is so happy this evening?"

Pablo leaned against the adobe wall, thoughtfully drew forth tobacco
bag and brown cigarette paper and, while shaking his head and appearing
to ponder Kay's question, rolled a cigarette and lighted it. "We-l-l,
_senorita_," he began presently, "I theenk first mebbeso eet ees