lways at your service for what you did for me. Good-bye, Miss
Valdes, for the present."

"I am of impression, sir, that you go not too soon," said Pesquiera
suavely.

Miss Valdes turned on her heel and swept up the steps of the porch; but
she stopped an instant before she entered the house to say over her
shoulder:

"A buggy will be at your disposal to take you to Corbett's. If it is
convenient, I should like to have you go to-night."

He smiled ironically.

"I'll not trouble you for the buggy, _senorita_. If I'm all you say I
am, likely I'm a horse thief, too. Anyhow, we won't risk it. Walking's
good enough for me."

"Just as you please," she choked, and forthwith disappeared into the
house.

Gordon turned from gazing after her to find the little Spaniard bowing
before him.

"Consider me at your service, Mr. Gordon----"

"Can't use you," cut in Dick curtly.

"I was remarking that, as her kinsman, I, Don Manuel Pesquiera, stand
prepared to make good her words. What the Senorita Valdes says, I say,
too."

"Then don't say it aloud, you little monkey, or I'll throw you over the
house," Dick promised immediately.

Don Manuel clicked his heels together and twirled his black mustache.

"I offer you, sir, the remedy of a gentleman. You, sir, shall choose the
weapons."

The Anglo-Saxon laughed in his face.

"Good. Let it be toasting-forks, at twenty paces."

The challenger drew himself up to his full five feet six.

"You choose to be what you call droll. Sir, I give you the word,
poltroon--_lache_--coward."

"Oh, go chase yourself."

One of Pesquiera's little gloved hands struck the other's face with a
resounding slap. Next instant he was lifted from his feet and tucked
under Dick's arm.

There he remained, kicking and struggling, in a manner most undignified
for a blue blood of Castile, while the Coloradoan stepped leisurely
forward to the irrigating ditch which supplied water for the garden and
the field of grain behind. This was now about two feet deep, and running
strong. In it was deposited, at full length, the clapper little person
of Don Manuel Pesquiera, after which Dick Gordon turned and went limping
down the road.

From the shutters of her room a girl had looked down and seen it all.
She saw Don Manuel rescue himself from the ditch, all dripping with
water. She saw him gesticulating wildly, as he cursed the retreating
foe, before betaking himself hurriedly from view to the rear of the
ho