and
it angered her, which was a good thing, for her anger banished her
momentary faintness and gave her boldness to demand:

"The proof!"

"It will be forthcoming, senora, at the right time. Yes. Meanwhile, I
am content you shall remain, you and your little ones, until--well, say a
month. By that date all things should have been arranged and the senora
will have found herself another home less lonely than Sobrante. One so
beautiful as the Dona Gabriella must have hosts of friends who----"

Senor Bernal paused. There were footsteps approaching, and the merry
voices of children, and an instant later Samson was in the room,
still carrying the little lads in his arms, and with Jessica clinging
affectionately to his ragged sleeve.

One glance showed the faithful ranchman that something was amiss. There
was fresh sorrow, even consternation, in the beloved face of Sobrante's
mistress, fresh insolence in that of her chief assistant. He was not one
to hesitate when his friends were in trouble, and turned to Antonio
with an angry demand:

"What have you been worrying your betters with now, senor?"

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, rascal."

"Returnin' the compliment, if you please. All the same, don't you
know that a man--_a man_--doesn't go around worrying women as you worry
Mrs. Trent? You, that hadn't a shirt to your back when the boss took
you in and made you what you are! I'm anticipatin' a mite, and I don't
know just how some of the boys'll take it, but we'd laid out this
very night at moon-up--if there'd been a moon sensible enough to get
up, which there isn't--to haul you and a few other matters over the
coals and stir up a fresh sort of blaze. Now, I warn you, just you let
matters slide, peaceable, and you--just you, yourself, keep that civil
tongue you recommend, or you'll light out of here so quick ye won't
see your heels for dust, dry season though it is. Hear?"

"Hear? Yes, I hear. Now, 'tis your turn. You go tell those malcontents
you call 'the boys' to take their packs and foot it. Times have
changed. Things have changed. There's another master here now, and
not a weak-willed mistress. That is me--I--Antonio Bernal, owner of
Sobrante rancho and all that appertains thereto. Now, go. Vamos. Depart.
Clear out. Get!"

Samson went--as far as the long, open window, and stepped out upon the
porch. He did not see Mr. Hale, who had seated himself in a rocker,
an unintentional witness of a scene he would gladly