ave that had
not been there when he left the Palomar. At the head of it stood a
tile taken from the ruin of the mission roof, and on this brown tile
some one had printed in rude lettering with white paint:

Fallecio
Don Miguel Jose Noriaga Farrel
Nacio, Junio 3, 1841
Muerto, Deciembre 29, 1919.

The last scion of that ancient house knelt in the mold of his father's
grave and made the sign of the cross.

V

The tears which Don Mike Farrel had descried in the eyes of his
acquaintance on the train were, as he came to realize when he climbed
the steep cattle-trail from Sespe, the tribute of a gentle heart moved
to quick and uncontrollable sympathy. Following their conversation in
the dining-car, the girl--her name was Kay Parker--had continued her
luncheon, her mind busy with thoughts of this strange home-bound
ex-soldier who had so signally challenged her attention. "There's
breeding back of that man," the girl mused. "He's only a rancher's son
from the San Gregorio; where did he acquire his drawing-room manners?"

She decided, presently, that they were not drawing-room manners. They
were too easy and graceful and natural to have been acquired. He must
have been born with them. There was something old-fashioned about
him--as if part of him dwelt in the past century. He appeared to be
quite certain of himself, yet there was not even a hint of ego in his
cosmos. His eyes were wonderful--and passionless, like a boy's. Yes;
there was a great deal of the little boy about him, for all his years,
his wounds, and his adventures. Kay thought him charming, yet he did
not appear to be aware of his charm, and this fact increased her
attraction to him. It pleased her that he had preferred to discuss the
Japanese menace rather than his own exploits, and had been human enough
to fly in a rage when told of her father's plans with the potato baron.
Nevertheless, he had himself under control, for he had smothered his
rage as quickly as he had permitted it to flare up.

"Curious man!" the girl concluded. "However--he's a man, and when we
meet again, I'm going to investigate thoroughly and see what else he
has in his head."

Upon further reflection, she reminded herself that he hadn't disclosed,
in anything he had said, the fact that his head contained thoughts or
information of more than ordinary value. He had merely created that
impression. Even his discussion of the Japanese problem had been
curs