forties' and take his place in a world of alert
creators and producers. Do you not think, Mr. Bill, that he will be
the gainer through my policy of keeping him in ignorance of my part in
the re-financing of his affairs--if he dare not be certain of victory
up to the last moment? Of course it would be perfectly splendid if he
could somehow manage to work out his own salvation, but of course, if
he is unable to do that his friends must do it for him. I think it
would be perfectly disgraceful to permit a Medal of Honor man to be
ruined, don't you, Mr. Bill?"

"Say, how long have you known this fellow Miguel?"

"Seventy-two hours, more or less."

He considered. "Your father's nerve has been pretty badly shaken by
the Jap's attempt to kill Miguel. He feels about that pretty much as a
dog does when he's caught sucking eggs. Why not work on your father
now while he's in an anti-Jap mood? You might catch him on the
rebound, so to speak. Take him over to La Questa valley some day this
week and show him a little Japan; show him what the San Gregorio will
look like within five years if he persists. Gosh, woman, you have some
influence with him haven't you?"

"Very little in business affairs, I fear."

"Well, you work on him, anyhow, and maybe he'll get religion and renew
Miguel's mortgage. Argue that point about giving a Medal of Honor man
another chance."

The girl shook her head. "It would be useless," she assured him. "He
has a curious business code and will not abandon it. He will only
quote some platitude about mixing sentiment and business."

"Then I suppose the battle will have to go the full twenty rounds.
Well, Miss Parker, we're willing. We've already drawn first blood and
with your secret help we ought to about chew the tail off your old man."

"Cheerio." She held out her dainty little gloved hand to him. "See me
when you need more money, Mr. Bill. And remember! If you tell on me
I'll never, never forgive you."

He bent over her hand and kissed it. His caress was partly reverence,
partly a habit of courtliness surviving from a day that is done in
California, for under that shabby old tweed suit there beat the gallant
heart of a true cavalier.

[Illustration: The girl--Kay Parker.]

When Miss Parker had ridden away with Pablo at her heels, Bill Conway
unburdened himself of a slightly ribald little chanson entitled: "What
Makes the Wild Cat Wild?" In the constant repetition of this query