. I'd clean forgot that I put a scrap of white
Scotch linen and a yard or two of plaid bodice stuff in my pack for
you. This business of my captain getting lost has shaken my wits."

Though Janet protested against the trouble her face glowed at prospect
of her gifts, and as she assisted him to unstrap and refasten his
canvas sack, and even begged to be shown the simple remembrances he
had procured for everybody he knew "at home;" not least among them
being calicoes of brilliantly unwashable colors for Aunt Sally's
patchwork. Then he set off alone, staff in hand, stolidly yet swiftly
covering the ground with that halting stride of his that soon took him
out of sight.

The assembled ranchmen received their own mail matter, mounted and
rode away; and there settled over the little town that monotonous
quiet which would not be broken again until the arrival of the evening
train, when, possibly, some chance passenger might alight on the
deserted platform.

Meanwhile, Ephraim was passing over the level road toward "home,"
feeling keener delight and longing with each step's advance, and when
he came to a little branch trail, where a rude signpost stated the
fact that he had come "Five miles from Marion," he made his first
halt, sitting to rest for a few moments under the eucalyptus trees
bordering the arroyo. The branch road led to and disappeared among a
group of buildings, some distance to the north, on the ranch of one
Miguel Solano, a friend of Antonio Bernal, and a Mexican of
ill-repute. The ranch was comparatively new and was rich in olive
orchards and all the conveniences for producing a fine quality of oil,
and had been bought and arranged by an easterner with all the
accessories of profitable farming. Death had put an end to the
settler's industry, and the property had come, at a low figure, into
Solano's hands; whereupon everything industrious lapsed, neglect and
discomfort usurping the place of thrifty comfort.

Gazing toward this place, Ephraim reflected that; "If that Greaser had
half as much snap as he has wickedness he'd be a rich man. As 'tis,
honest folks sort of give Solano's a wide berth. I'm thirsty as a dog
and wouldn't mind havin' a drink out that artesian well they have
there, but--Atlantic! There's somebody already stoopin' over it; looks
mighty familiar!"

Then the old man stood up and shielded his eyes with his hand as he
peered into the distance, ending his scrutiny with a shake of his fist
in