be showin' up down this way. And that you'd be comin' along
with me." He finished off his brandy and set his glass down hard.

Kendric took a cigaret and wandered across the room, looking out into
the gardens. The string of men who had appeared at Zoraida's whistle,
were filing off around the house again, going toward the nearby
outbuildings.

"I'm not going to pump questions at you, Barlow," he said without
turning. "What you do is up to you. Only, if you can't play the game
straight with me, our trails fork for good and all. Now, let's get a
bath and see the dance through."

Five minutes later Jim Kendric, splashing mightily in a roomy tub,
began to sing under his breath. After all, matters were well enough.
Life was not dull but infinitely profligate of promise. He fancied
that Ruiz Rios was boiling inwardly with rage; the thought delighted
him. His old zest flooded back full tide into his veins. His voice
rose higher, his lively tune quickened. Barlow's face brightened at
the sound and his lungs filled to a sigh of relief.

Within half an hour a servant ushered them into the _patio_. There,
under a grape arbor, their chairs drawn close up to the little
fountain, were Rios and Escobar, talking quietly. Both men rose as
they appeared, offering chairs. Both were all that was courteous and
yet it needed no guessing to understand that their courtesy was but
like so much thin silken sheathing over steel; they were affable only
because of a command. And that command, Zoraida's.

"As far as they are concerned," mused Kendric, "she is absolutely the
Queen Lady. Wonder how she works it? Wouldn't judge either one of
them an easy gent to handle."

The conversation was markedly impersonal. They spoke of stock raising,
of the best breeds of beef cattle, of what had been done with
irrigation and of what Rios planned for another year. It became clear
that Zoraida was the sole owner of several thousand fair acres here and
that Ruiz Rios stood in the position of general manager to his cousin.
That he envied her her possessions, that it galled him to be her
underling over these acres, was a fact which lay naked on top of many
mere surmises. Once, with simulated carelessness, Escobar said:

"The rancho would have been yours, had there been no will, is it not
so, amigo Rios?" And Ruiz flashed an angry look at him, knowing that
the man taunted him.

"It is called the Rancho Montezuma, isn't it?" put in Kend