r up there and liked him; and saw John Benton as I came down,
and--found this! Isn't that a plume to be proud of? Raised right here on
our little Sobrante."

"Whew! It's a beauty, sure enough. A dozen like that would be worth a
tidy sum. How found it?"

"Has anybody seen King Zu? Though, of course, I know it can't be his.
He was plucked such a little while ago, nor could he have gotten across
the gulch without losing more. Besides, Antonio said 'stole.'"

Then she gave a hasty account of her morning's adventures, during which
meaning glances were exchanged between the trio of workmen who, by the
time she had finished, had grown as glum as they had before been cheerful.

"Now, what do you think? Is there anybody who'd be mean enough to cut
off my mother's irrigation, on purpose, or steal her feathers? Even poor
Ferd; I'm sure she's always been good to him and pitied him."

"Ferd has hands. Others have heads," said Joe, as spokesman for the
rest.

They nodded swift assent.

"Except yourself, Lady Jess, nobody ever sees the 'senor' handle the
feathers, and you not often. Only he and his shadow, foolish Ferd, can
manage the birds, he claims. I've been smoking that in my pipe along
back."

"Oh! Joe, you shouldn't be suspicious of evil."

"No, I shouldn't be anything you don't want me to be, but I am."

"Even if I don't like him very well, because he's a little cross,
Antonio Bernal is a good man. He must be. Else my father and now mother
wouldn't trust him so. She lets him get all the money for everything
first and she has what's left--after you're all paid, I mean."

"Poor little woman!"

"Not poor, exactly, Samson. And it isn't Antonio's fault that there
isn't so much as there used to be when father was here. If there were,
mother would carry out all father's plans. She'd irrigate that tract
beyond the arroyo, toward the sand hills, and test it with strawberries,
as he meant. There shouldn't be an inch of untilled land on all the
ranch, if the crops we have paid out just a little better. But, no
matter. As long as you boys get your due wages, we can wait for the
rest."

There was another exchange of glances which Jessica did not see. Neither
did she see herder Samson, lying at length on the ground, lift his great
boot and significantly point to a hole in its toe. Nor would she have
surmised his meaning had she done so. Indeed, she suddenly remembered
her errand at the packinghouse and ran to its open door,