two thousand pounds on the hoof, instead of the little
eight-hundred-pounders that have swindled us for a hundred years."

"How many head of cattle can you run on your ranch?"

"About ten thousand--one to every ten acres. If I could develop water
for irrigation in the San Gregorio valley, I could raise alfalfa and
lot-feed a couple of thousand more."

"What is the ranch worth?"

"About eight per acre is the average price of good cattle-range nowadays.
With plenty of water for irrigation, the valley-land would be worth five
hundred dollars an acre. It's as rich as cream, and will grow
anything--with water."

"Well, I hope your dad takes a back seat and gives you a free hand,
Farrel. I think you'll make good with half a chance."

"I feel that way also," Farrel replied seriously.

"Are you going south to-night?"

"Oh, no. Indeed not! I don't want to go home in the dark, sir." The
captain was puzzled. "Because I love my California, and I haven't seen
her for two years," Farrel replied, to the other's unspoken query. "It's
been so foggy since we landed in San Francisco I've had a hard job making
my way round the Presidio. But if I take the eight-o'clock train
tomorrow morning, I'll run out of the fog-belt in forty-five minutes and
be in the sunshine for the remainder of the journey. Yes, by
Jupiter--and for the remainder of my life!"

"You want to feast your eyes on the countryside, eh?"

"I do. It's April, and I want to see the Salinas valley with its oaks; I
want to see the bench-lands with the grape-vines just budding; I want to
see some bald-faced cows clinging to the Santa Barbara hillsides, and I
want to meet some fellow on the train who speaks the language of my
tribe."

"Farrel, you're all Irish. You're romantic and poetical, and you feel
the call of kind to kind. That's distinctly a Celtic trait."

"_Quien sabe_? But I have a great yearning to speak Spanish with
somebody. It's my mother tongue."

"There must be another reason," the captain bantered him. "Sure there
isn't a girl somewhere along the right of way and you are fearful, if you
take the night-train, that the porter may fail to waken you in time to
wave to her as you go by her station?"

Farrel shook his head.

"There's another reason, but that isn't it. Captain, haven't you been
visualizing every little detail of your home-coming?"

"You forget, Farrel, that I'm a regular-army man, and we poor devils get
accustomed to b