ish girls that set
his pulses beating and sent the blood to his head. This was almost his
first sight of gentlewomen since the memorable day in his native
village, and the certainty that his opportunity had come at last filled
him with both triumph and terror as he spurred down the slope, then
paused and watched the cavalcade pick their way down through the golden
grass and the thick green bush of the canon. In a moment he recognized
Don Enrique Ortega, who spoke to him pleasantly enough as he rode into
the creek and dropped his bridle that his horse might drink. The two
young men had met at the Mission, and although Enrique regarded the
conquerors of his country as an inferior race, John was as good as any
of them, and doubtless it was best to make no enemies. Moreover, his
manners were very good.

"Ah, Don Juan," he exclaimed, "you have make the visit to Yerba
Buena--San Francisco you call him now, no? I go this morning to meet my
friends who make for the Rancho de los Olivos so great an honor. Si you
permit me I introduce you, for you are the friend de my cousin, Padre
Ortega."

The company had scattered down the stream to refresh their horses,
making a long banner of color in the dark canon. Don Enrique led John
along the line, and presented him solemnly to each in turn. The
caballeros protested eternal friendship with vehement insincerity, and
the girls flashed their eyes and teeth at the blue-eyed young American
without descending from their unconscious pride of sex and race. They
had the best blood of Spain in them, and an American was an American, be
he never so agreeable to contemplate.

The girls looked much alike in the rebosos which framed their faces so
closely, and John promptly fell in love with all of them at once.
Selection could take place later; he was too happy to think of anything
so serious as immediate marriage. But one of them he determined to have.

He rode out of the canon with them, and they were gracious, and
chattered of the pleasures to come at the Rancho de los Olivos.

John noticed that Enrique kept persistently at the side of one maiden,
and rode a little ahead with her. She was very tall and slim, and so
graceful that she swayed almost to her horse's neck when branches
drooped too low. John began to wish for a glimpse of her face.

"That is Delfina Carillo," said the girl beside him, following his gaze.
"She go to marry with Enrique, I theenk. He is very devot, and I think
she li