onian blood in Pablo.

Up in the grand-stand Carolina, in her great excitement, forgot that
she was Farrel's cook. When he was a baby she had nursed him and she
loved him for that. So she waddled down to him with beaming eyes--and
he patted her cheek.

"Father Dominic," Don Mike called to the old friar, "your Mission
Restoration Fund has been increased ten thousand dollars."

"So?" the gentle old man echoed. "Behold, Miguel, the goodness of God.
He willed that Panchito should save for you from the heathen one little
portion of our dear land; He was pleased to answer my prayers of fifty
years that I be permitted to live until I had restored the Mission of
our Mother of Sorrows." He closed his eyes. "So many long years the
priest," he murmured, "so many long years! And I am base enough to be
happy in worldly pleasures. I am still a little old devil."

Don Mike turned to the stunned book-makers. "For some reason best
known to yourselves," he addressed them in English, bowing graciously,
"you two gentlemen have seen fit to do business with me through this
excellent representative of the civil authority of Tia Juana. We will
dispense with his services, if you have no objection. Here, my good
fellow," he added, and handed the policeman a ten-dollar bill.

"You're not a Mexican. You're an American," the book-maker Joe cried
accusingly, "although you bragged like a Mexican."

"Quite right. I never claimed to be a Mexican, however. I heard about
this Thanksgiving Handicap, and it seemed such a splendid opportunity
to pick up a few thousand dollars that I entered my horse. I have
complied with all the rules. This race was open to four-year-olds and
up, regardless of whether they had been entered in a race previously or
had won or lost a race. Panchito's registration will bear
investigation; so will his history. My jockey rode under an apprentice
license. May I trouble you for a settlement, gentlemen?"

"But your horse is registered under a Mexican's name, as owner."

"My name is Miguel Jose Maria Federico Noriaga Farrel."

"We'll see the judges first, Senor Farrel."

"By all means."

"You bet we will. The judges smell a rat, already. The winning
numbers haven't been posted yet."

As Don Mike and his retinue passed the Parker box, John Parker and
Danny Leighton fell in behind them and followed to the judges' stand.
Five minutes later the anxious crowd saw Panchito's number go up as the
winner. Do