estate of a
nobleman; and Rezanov, who had liked nothing in California so well,
gave his imagination rein and saw the counterpart of the castle of his
ancestors rise in the deep shade of the trees.

Don Jose's house was a long rambling adobe, red tiled, with many
bedrooms and one immense hall. Beyond were a chapel and a dozen
outbuildings. Dinner was served in patriarchal style in the hall, the
Commandante--or El padrone as he was known here--and his guests at the
upper end of the table; below the salt, the vaqueros, their wives and
children, and the humble friar who drove them to prayer night and
morning. The friar wore his brown robes, the vaqueros their black and
silver and red in honor of the company, their women glaring
handkerchiefs of green or red or yellow about their necks, even pinned
back and front on their shapeless garments; and affording a fine
vegetable garden contrast to the delicate flower bed surrounding the
padrone.

There was a race track on the ranch and many fine horses. After siesta
the company mounted fresh steeds and rode off to applaud the feats of
the vaqueros, who, not content with climbing the greased pole,
wrenching the head of an unfortunate rooster from his buried body as
they galloped by, submitting the tail of an oiled pig in full flight to
the same indignity, gave when these and other native diversions were
exhausted, such exhibitions of riding and racing as have never been
seen out of California. As lithe as willow wands, on slender horses as
graceful as themselves, they looked like meteors springing through
space, and there was no trick of the circus they did not know by
instinct, and translate from gymnastics into poetry. Even Rezanov
shared the excitement of the shouting, clapping Californians, and
Concha laughed delightedly when his cap waved with the sombreros.

"I think you will make a good Californian in time," she said as they
rode homeward.

"Perhaps," said Rezanov musingly. His eyes roved over the magnificent
estate and at the moment they entered a portion of it that deepened to
woods, so dense was the undergrowth, so thick the oak trees. Here
there was but a glimpse, now and again, of the mountains swimming in
the dark blue mist of the late afternoon, the moss waved thickly from
the ancient trees; over even the higher branches of many rolled a
cascade of small brittle leaves, with the tempting opulence of its
poisonous sap. The path was very abrupt, cut where th