, "like on holy days I feel that
Dios comes to sit down in the corner of my heart, so without seeing _la
senorita_ I know she ees come home! She ees in the air like the light
of sun, like the sweetness of my roses!"

"You've known her a long time, Joe?"

"Seence she ees born!" and Jose, unashamed, wiped away a tear upon the
back of a leathery hand. "Senor Sanford and me, senor, we teach her
when she ees so leetle!" Jose's shaking hand was lowered until it
marked the stature of a twelve-inch pigmy. In all things must the old
fellow gain his emphasis by exaggeration which more often than not took
the form of plain lying. "Never at all unteel one year ago does she
leave us and the _rancho_. We, us two who love her, senor, learn her
to walk and to ride and to shoot and to talk. You shall hear her say,
'_Buenos dias, Jose, mi amigo_!' You shall see her kees the cheek of
old Jose."

Again his leathery hand was put in requisition, this time to wipe clean
the cheek to be honored. "And one theeng I tell you, senor," he added
confidentially. "Her papa was a wild devil before her. Her mama ees
grow up on the ranch; and when she marry _el senor_ Sanford was like a
wild boy. And _mi senorita_, she ees the cross be tween a wild devil
and a sweet saint, senor _Madre de Dios_! I would go down to hell for
her to bring back fire to warm her leetle feet een weenter!"

Lee went thoughtfully on his way to the bunk-house. The cook, an
importation of Bayne Trevors, a big, upstanding fellow with bare arms
covered with flour, was putting on the breakfast to which a dozen
rough-garbed men were sitting down.

"I've got orders for you fellows," said Lee from the doorway. "The
boss of the outfit, the real owner, you know, just blew in. Up at the
house. Says you boys are to stick around to take orders straight from
headquarters. You, Benny," to the cook, "are to have a man's-size
breakfast ready in a jiffy."

Naturally Benny led the clamor with a string of oaths. What in blazes
did the owner of the ranch have to show up for anyway?--he wanted to
know. He accepted the fact as a personal affront. Who was this
owner?--demanded Ward Hannon, the foreman of the lower ranch, where the
alfalfa-fields were.

Bud Lee explained gravely that the newcomer was some sort of relative
of old Luke Sanford, who had recently acquired a controlling interest
in the ranch. Ward Hannon grunted contemptuously. "The Lord deliver
us!" he moaned