me."

This was news, and Farrel's manner indicated as much.

"Where did you see Panchito?" he demanded.

"An Indian named Pablo rode him into El Toro to be shod one day while
we were living at the hotel there. He's perfectly adorable."

"Pablo? Hardly. I know the old rascal."

"Be serious. Panchito--I was passing the blacksmith's shop, and I
simply had to step in and admire him."

"That tickled old Pablo to death--of course."

"It did. He put Panchito through all of his tricks for me, and, after
the horse was shod, he permitted me to ride the dear for half an hour.
Pablo was so kind! He waited until I could run back to the hotel and
change into my riding-habit."

"Did you try to give Pablo some money--say, about five dollars?" he
demanded, smilingly.

"Yes." Her eyes betrayed wonder.

"He declined it with profuse thanks, didn't he?"

"You're the queerest man I've ever met. Pablo did refuse it. How did
you know?"

"I know Pablo. He wouldn't take money from a lady. It's against the
code of the Rancho Palomar, and if his boss ever heard that he had
fractured that code, he'd skin him alive."

"Not Pablo's boss. Pablo told me his Don Mike, as he calls him, was
killed by the bewhiskered devils in a cold country the name of which he
had heard but could not remember. He meant Siberia."

Farrel sat up suddenly.

"What's that?" he cried sharply. "He told you Don Mike had been
killed?"

"Yes--poor fellow! Pablo said Don Mike's father had had a telegram
from the War Department."

Farrel's first impulse was to curse the War Department--in Spanish, so
she would not understand. His second was to laugh, and his third to
burst into tears. How his father had suffered! Then he remembered
that to-night, he, the said Don Mike, was to have the proud privilege
of returning from Valhalla, of bringing the light of joy back to the
faded eyes of old Don Miguel, and in the swift contemplation of the
drama and the comedy impending, he stood staring at her rather
stupidly. Pablo would doubtless believe he was a ghost returned to
haunt old scenes; the majordomo would make the sign of the cross and
start running, never pausing till he would reach the Mission of the
Mother of Sorrows, there to pour forth his unbelievable tale to Father
Dominic. Whereupon Father Dominic would spring into his prehistoric
automobile and come up to investigate. Great jumped-up Jehoshaphat!
What a climax to two years of soldierin