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But be all this as it might, whether Don Benito's manner was designed or not, the more Captain Delano noted its pervading reserve, the less he felt uneasiness at any particular manifestation of that reserve towards himself. Neither were his thoughts taken up by the captain alone.

In front of Flood and O'Brien's saloon a hand fell heartily upon Benito's shoulder. "Come in and have a drink," James Lick invited. Lick had "made a pile" of late. He was building a big hotel on Montgomery street; was recognized as one of San Francisco's financiers. He took Benito by the arm. "We've got to celebrate. I've made ten thousand on my Ophir shares. Carrying any mining stock, Benito?"

"Then find him alone," he countered, sullenly. But a moment later he was plucking at Benito's elbow. "What's it all abaout, this 'ere news? Cawn't ye tell a fellow? Give me an inklin'; trust me and I'll trust you; that's business." Benito hesitated. "It's about the ranch," he returned at a venture. "Ow, the rawnch. Well, you needn't 'ave been so bloody sly about it.

It had gradually become one of Benito's duties to keep an eye on them; shut them up when the Father did not wish them around; and when, as occasionally happened, they ran away, to search for them.

Second, the tyranny in Don Benito's treatment of Atufal, the black; as if a child should lead a bull of the Nile by the ring in his nose. Third, the trampling of the sailor by the two negroes; a piece of insolence passed over without so much as a reprimand.

To Captain Delano's imagination, now again not wholly at rest, there was something so hollow in the Spaniard's manner, with apparently some reciprocal hollowness in the servant's dusky comment of silence, that the idea flashed across him, that possibly master and man, for some unknown purpose, were acting out, both in word and deed, nay, to the very tremor of Don Benito's limbs, some juggling play before him.

Benito's arm around her, dumbly, they went out together. Rain was beginning to fall, but neither knew it. Several years of war made little change in San Francisco. The city furnished more than its quota of troops. The California Hundred, trained fighters and good horsemen, went to Massachusetts in 1862 and were assigned to the Second Cavalry. Later the California Battalion joined them.

If that worthy heard, he made no answer; but a slight, agile man with sly eyes looked up from a nearby table, "What d'ye want of him, stranger?" An arrogant retort sprang to Benito's lips, but he checked it. He bent toward the questioner confidentially. "I've news for Alec," he whispered; "news he ought to know and quickly." Instantly the slight man rose.

Sturges, following Benito's advice, bought a long gray cloak with a hood, and filled his saddle-bags with nourishing food. The vaquero sent word to Doña Brígida that the horses he had brought in to sell to the officers had escaped and that he was hastening down the coast in pursuit.

Alaire watched her guest until he had disappeared into the shadows, then she heard him talking to the mare. Benito's words at the rodeo recurred to her, and she wondered if this Ranger might not also have a way with women. The house was very still and empty when she re-entered it. Ricardo Guzman did not return from Romero.