, when his master reined up
beside him.

"Pablo," he demanded, "has Senor Conway been to the ranch during my
absence?"

"No, Don Miguel, he has not."

"Has Senorita Parker ridden Panchito over to Senor Conway's camp at
Agua Caliente basin?"

"Yes, Don Miguel. I rode behind her, in case of accident."

"What day was that?"

Pablo considered. "The day after you were shot, Don Miguel."

"Did you see Senorita Parker give Senor Conway a writing?"

"I did, truly. She wrote from a small leathern book and tore out the
page whereon she wrote. In return Senor Conway made a writing and this
he gave to Senorita Parker who accepted it.

"Thank you, Pablo. That is all I desired to know." And he was away
again, swinging his lariat and whooping joyously at the cattle. Pablo
watched narrowly.

"Now whatever this mystery may be," he soliloquized, "the news I gave
Don Miguel has certainly not displeased him. Ah, he is a sharp one,
that boy. He learns everything and without effort, yet for all he
knows he talks but little. Can it be that he has the gift of second
sight? I wonder!"

CHAPTER XXVII

Kay Parker was seated on the bench under the catalpa tree when Miguel
Farrel rode up the palm-lined avenue to the hacienda, that night; his
face, as he dismounted before her, conveyed instantly to the girl the
impression that he was in a more cheerful and contented mood than she
had observed since that day she had first met him in uniform.

She smiled a welcome. He swept off his hat and favored her with a bow
which appeared to Kay to be slightly more ceremonious than usual.

"Your horse is tired," she remarked. "Are you?"

"'Something accomplished, something done, has earned a night's
repose,'" he quoted cheerfully. "Rather a hard task to comb this ranch
for a few hundred head of cattle when the number of one's riders is
limited, but we have gotten the herd corraled at the old race-track."
He unbuckled his old leathern chaps, and stepped out of them, threw
them across the saddle and with a slap sent his horse away to the barn.

"You're feeling quite yourself again?" she hazarded hopefully.

"My foolish head doesn't bother me," he replied smilingly, "but my
equally foolish heart--" he heaved a gusty Castilian sigh and tried to
appear forlorn.

"Filled with mixed metaphors," he added. "May I sit here with you?"

She made room for him beside her on the bench. He seated himself,
leaned back against the bol