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Farrel clasped the proffered hand and replied to him in Spanish; then, remembering his manners, he presented the horseman as Don Nicolás Sandoval, sheriff of the county. Don Nicolás bent low over his horse's neck, his wide gray hat clasped to his gallant heart. "You will forgive the emotion of a foolish old man, Miss Parker," he said, "but we of San Marcos County love this boy."
But, before he quitted Presburg, his friend Farrel taking him aside one day, "Count," said he, "will you give me leave to ask, if, by my zeal and attachment for you, I have had the good fortune to acquire your esteem?"
Such were the reflections of the generous Farrel, who, while he performed the last office of friendship, in closing the eyes of the much-lamented Melvil, perceived a warmth on the skin, which the hand of death seldom leaves unextinguished.
"No game down that way," Farrel explained patiently. "We'll take the hounds and put something up a tree over Caliente Basin way before we get back. Besides, I have a great curiosity to inspect the dam you're building and the artesian wells you're drilling over in that country." "Confound you, Farrel! You realized the possibilities of that basin, then?" "Years ago.
For the first time in sixty years, Pablo Artelan, the majordomo of the Rancho Palomar, was troubled of soul at the approach of winter. Old Don Miguel Farrel had observed signs of mental travail in Pablo for a month past, and was at a loss to account for them.
"It's a shame, Joe, to see all that good money dropping into the maw of those Paris Mutuel sharks. Joe, we ought to be kicked if we allow it." "Can you speak Spanish?" "Not a word." "Well, let's get an interpreter. That Tia Juana policeman yonder will do." "All right. I'll split the pot with you, old timer." Directly after the first race a Mexican policeman touched Farrel on the arm.
The girl is now grown to be a young woman, and Miss Farrel has not dared see her more than twice since she heaped such benefits upon her. It has been her dream that some day she might reveal the truth, and that gratitude might induce love, but she has never dared put it to the test.
"That is a difficult question to answer, Mr. Farrel. It seems your father was something of a lawyer " "Yes; he graduated in law. Why, nobody ever knew, for he never had the slightest intention of practising it.
"Miguel Farrel, you'd anger a sheep," Parker cried wrathfully, and strode away toward his automobile waiting in the infield. Kay and Don Mike watched him drive straight across the valley to the road and turn in the direction of El Toro. "Wilder than a March hare," Don Mike commented. "Not at all," Kay assured him.
Unutterable was the joy that took possession of his mother and sister when Farrel flew into her apartment to intimate this happy turn.
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