me not less than four hundred
thousand dollars. I think I'll make certain," and he opened Parker's
envelope and read what was contained therein. "Hum-m! Three hundred
and twenty-five thousand?"

Parker extended his hand. "I would be obliged to you for the return of
that letter," he began, but paused, confused, at Farrel's cheerful,
mocking grin.

"All's fair in love and war," he quoted, gaily. "I wanted a document
to prove to some banker or pawn-broker that I have an equity in this
ranch and it is worth three hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars,
in the opinion of the astute financier who holds a first mortgage on
it. Really, I think I'd be foolish to give away this evidence," and he
tucked it carefully back in his pocket.

"I wonder," Kay spoke up demurely, "which ancestor from which side of
the family tree put that idea in his head, father?"

Don Mike pretended not to have heard her. He turned kindly to John
Parker and laid a friendly hand upon the latter's arm.

"I think Bill Conway will drift by about ten o'clock or ten-thirty, Mr.
Parker. I know he will not cause you any more inconvenience than he
finds absolutely necessary, sir. He's tricky, but he isn't mean."

Parker did not reply. He did not know whether to laugh or fly into a
rage, to offer Don Mike his hand or his fist. The latter must have
guessed Parker's feelings, for he favored his guests with a Latin shrug
and a deprecatory little smile, begged to be excused and departed for
the barn. A quarter of an hour later Kay saw him and Pablo ride out of
the yard and over the hills toward the west; she observed that Farrel
was riding his father's horse, wherefore she knew that he had left
Panchito behind for her.

Farrel found Don Nicolas Sandoval, the sheriff, by riding straight to a
column of smoke he saw rising from a grove of oaks on a flat hilltop.

"What do you mean by camping out here, Don Nicolas?" Farrel demanded as
he rode up. "Since when has it become the fashion to await a formal
invitation to the hospitality of the Rancho Palomar?"

"I started to ride down to the hacienda at sunset last night," Don
Nicolas replied, "but a man on foot and carrying a rifle and a blanket
came over the hills to the south. I watched him through my binoculars.
He came down into the wash of the San Gregorio--and I did not see him
come out. So I knew he was camped for the night in the willow thickets
of the river bed; that he was a stranger in th