orse," she announced,
so vividly mimicking both men that all who had known them recognized
the likeness, and Ephraim exclaimed:

"That's them to a t-i-o-n-tion! Can seem to see 'em right here before
me. Well--what next?"

"Pedro wore his blanket like a king. Antonio has covered his head with
that white thing, and even so wasn't half Pedro's height. I shall not
soon forget that splendid Old Century, the last time I saw him ride
away, that night. A hundred years old, yet as straight in his saddle
as a rod."

"Antonio Bernal was a magnificent horseman, darling," suggested Mrs.
Trent, from the chair into which she had sunk, as if weakened by the
series of startling events which had befallen her home.

"Even so, mother, dear, he couldn't match old Pedro. Antonio sat
forward, so, with a careless sort of slouch--just like the 'spook'
had."

"What could possibly be his motive for such foolishness, daughter,
granting you are right?"

The captain laughed.

"Upon my word, mother, even you, as well as Ephraim, seem sorry it
isn't a truly ghost, after all."

"No, no, indeed. I'm sorry, rather, to think it may be Antonio, as you
fancy, and that he still persists in troubling us, even by so silly a
disguise."

"It hasn't been so silly, Mrs. Trent, if it has hoodwinked a lot of
sensible people, and you are right--there must be a motive for it in
the actor's mind. I hope Jessica's judgment in the case is correct,
for back there in Los Angeles, we didn't find the manager a difficult
person to deal with," remarked Mr. Sharp.

The girl went on:

"Then that horse. Don't you remember, mother, and you, Ephraim, the
curious little switch Nero used to give his tail whenever he was
turned around? Well, this 'spook' horse did just the same thing. Oh, I
know, I know I'm right!"

"But how could he turn a black horse snow white, even if you are? As I
remember Nero he wouldn't stand much nonsense, even from his own
master," said "Forty-niner."

"Pooh! If lack-wit Ferd could paint Prince, as he did--another
spirited horse, if you please--Antonio could do what he liked with
Nero. It's paint, of course, or something like it."

"But the eyes? The eyes as we saw them on the road, a few hours back,
were all on fire. You could see them almost before you could make out
that it was a man on horseback was coming. Isn't that so, Sharp?"
demanded Ephraim, persistent to the last.

Jessica turned upon him, triumphantly:

"There! I knew from