e Panchito to
me! You don't mean it!"

"I do. I told you I might give him away to somebody worth while."

"You haven't known me long enough to give me valuable presents,
Miguel," she demurred. "You're a dear to want to give him to me and
I'm positively mad to own him, but Mother and Dad might think--well,
that is, they might not understand. Of course we understand perfectly,
but--well--you understand, don't you, Miguel?"

"I understand that I cannot afford to have your father suspect that I
am unmindful of--certain conditions," he answered her, and flushed with
embarrassment. "If you do not want Panchito as a gift I shall not
insist--"

"I think it would be a good idea for you to permit Dad to buy him for
me. He's worth every cent of five thousand dollars--"

"I'll never sell him. I told you this afternoon I love him. I never
sell a horse or a dog that I love or that loves me. I shall have to
take him back, Kay--for the present."

"I think that would be the better way, Miguel." She bent upon him an
inscrutable smile but in the depths of her brown eyes he thought he
detected laughter.

"You'll buck up now?" he pleaded.

"I'm already bucked up."

As they rode up to the great barn, Kay dismounted. "Leave the old
trifle at the door, Kay," Farrel told her. "Pablo will get him home.
Excuse me, please, while I take this calf over to Carolina. She'll
make a man out of him. She's a wonder at inducing little mavericks
like this fellow to drink milk from a bucket."

He jogged away, while Panchito, satisfied that he had performed
throughout the day like a perfect gentleman, bent his head and rubbed
his forehead against Kay's cheek, seeking some evidence of growing
popularity with the girl. To his profound satisfaction she scratched
him under the jawbone and murmured audibly:

"Never mind, old dear. Some day you'll be my Panchito. He loves you
and didn't he say he could only give you away for love?"

CHAPTER XXII

Dinner that night was singularly free from conversation. Nobody
present felt inclined to be chatty. John Parker was wondering what
Miguel Farrel's next move would be, and was formulating means to
checkmate it; Kay, knowing what Don Mike's next move would be and
knowing further that she was about to checkmate it, was silent through
a sense of guilt; Mrs. Parker's eight miles in the saddle that
afternoon had fatigued her to the point of dissipating her buoyant
spirits, and Farrel had