ed an affirmative.

"Wound's too clean for that story to impress me," the doctor whispered.
"Not a speck of foreign matter in it. Moreover, the wound is almost on
top of his head. Now, if he had been thrown from a horse and had
struck on top of his head on a rock with sufficient force to lacerate
his scalp and produce a minor fracture, he would, undoubtedly, have
crushed his skull more thoroughly or broken his neck. Also, his face
would have been marred more or less! And if that isn't good reasoning,
I might add that Miguel Farrel is one of the two or three men in this
world who have ridden Cyclone, the most famous outlaw horse in America."

Parker shrugged and, by displaying no interest in the doctor's
deductions, brought the conversation to a close.

That the return trip to the ranch, in Don Mike's present condition, was
not to be thought of, was apparent from the patient's condition. He
was, therefore, removed to the single small hospital which El Toro
boasted, and after seeing him in charge of a nurse the Parker family
returned to the ranch. Conversation languished during the trip; a
disturbed conscience on the part of the father, and on the part of Kay
and her mother an intuition, peculiar to their sex and aroused by the
doctor's comments, that events of more than ordinary portent had
occurred that day, were responsible for this.

At the ranch Parker found his attorney who had motored out from El
Toro, waiting to confer with him regarding Bill Conway's adroit
manoeuver of the morning. Mrs. Parker busied herself with some fancy
work while her daughter sought the Farrel library and pretended to
read. An atmosphere of depression appeared to have settled over the
rancho; Kay observed that even Pablo moved about in a furtive manner;
he cleaned and oiled his rifle and tested the sights with shots at
varying ranges. Carolina's face was grave and her sweet falsetto voice
was not raised in song once during the afternoon.

About four o'clock when the shadows began to lengthen, Kay observed
Pablo riding forth on his old pinto pony. Before him on the saddle he
carried a pick and shovel and in reply to her query as to what he
purposed doing, he replied that he had to clean out a spring where the
cattle were accustomed to drink. So she returned to the library and
Pablo repaired to a willow thicket in the sandy wash of the San
Gregorio and dug a grave. That night, at twilight, while the family
and servants were a