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But as he was quietly making his way out of the house, hoping to get to his horse unobserved, he came suddenly upon Mrs. Dyke and Sidney on the porch of the house. He had forgotten that since the affair at the ditch, Los Muertos had been a home to the engineer's mother and daughter. "And you, Mrs. Dyke," he asked as he took her hand, "in this break-up of everything, where do you go?"
Why, Lyman, it's our home, the ranch house itself, nearly all Los Muertos, practically our whole fortune, and just now when there is promise of an enormous crop of wheat. And it is not only us. There are over half a million acres of the San Joaquin involved. In some cases of the smaller ranches, it is the confiscation of the whole of the rancher's land.
Derrick had been obliging enough to offer to come down to Los Muertos in person to acquaint the wheat-growers of the San Joaquin with the new rates for the carriage of their grain. But Lyman very politely protested, addressing his father punctiliously as "Mr. Chairman," and the other ranchers as "Gentlemen of the Executive Committee of the League."
One of the sack sewers interposed: "For the last half hour we've been throwing off three bags to the minute." "That's good, that's good." It was more than good; it was "bonanza," and all that division of the great ranch was thick with just such wonderful wheat. Never had Los Muertos been more generous, never a season more successful. S. Behrman drew a long breath of satisfaction.
Say when this thing is over and everybody starts to walk into the barbecue, come and have lunch with us. I'll look for you, you and Harran. Hello, Harran, where's the Governor?" "He didn't come to-day," Harran shouted back, as the crowd carried him further away from Annixter. "Left him and old Broderson at Los Muertos."
A great map of Los Muertos with every water-course, depression, and elevation, together with indications of the varying depths of the clays and loams in the soil, accurately plotted, hung against the wall between the windows, while near at hand by the safe was the telephone. But, no doubt, the most significant object in the office was the ticker.
"Marius the Epicurean," "The Essays of Elia," "Sesame and Lilies," "The Stones of Venice," and the little toy magazines, full of the flaccid banalities of the "Minor Poets," were continually in her hands. When Presley had appeared on Los Muertos, she had welcomed his arrival with delight. Here at last was a congenial spirit.
He was aware that the cordon of Cos' army completely enclosed the Pyramid of the Moon, the Pyramid of the Sun, the Calle de los Muertos and the other principal ruins, and he now heard the sentinels much more distinctly as they walked back and forth. Straining his eyes he could see two of them, short, sallow men, musket on shoulder.
Everything above board here to-night." Magnus cast a glance at the contents of the letter, then rose to his feet and read: Magnus Derrick, Bonneville, Tulare Co., Cal. Dear Sir: By regrade of October 1st, the value of the railroad land you occupy, included in your ranch of Los Muertos, has been fixed at $27.00 per acre. The land is now for sale at that price to any one.
"Well, you are going away, too, your wife tells me." "Yes, I'm going away. I can't stay on..." he hesitated a long time, groping for the right word, "I can't stay on on what's the name of this place?" "Los Muertos," put in Presley. "No, it isn't. Yes, it is, too, that's right, Los Muertos. I don't know where my memory has gone to of late." "Well, I hope you will be better soon, Governor."
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