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For long time since Don Miguel he's beeg like leetle baby, thees Basque he cannot set the foot on the Rancho Palomar, but to-day, because he theenk Don Miguel don' leeve, theese fellow have the beeg idea she's all right for come to theese rancho. Well, he come." Here Pablo shrugged. "I think mebbeso you tell theese Loustalot Don Miguel have come back. Car-ramba! He is scared like hell.

The girl thoughtfully traced a pattern on the tablecloth with the tine of her fork. "How will it be possible for you to acquire that horse, Panchito, for me, dearest?" she queried presently. "I have a deficiency judgment against the Rancho Palomar," he explained. "Consequently, upon the expiration of the redemption period of one year, I shall levy an attachment against the Farrel estate.

"Where but in my home?" "Blood of the devil!" Pablo slapped his thigh and grinned in the knowledge that the last of the Farrels, having come home, had decided to waste no time in assuming his natural position as the master of the Rancho Palomar. "We have oranges," he began, enumerating each course of the forthcoming meal on his tobacco-stained fingers.

Conway yelled, and forthwith he beat Farrel between the shoulder-blades with a horny old fist and cursed him lovingly. "Cut out the profanity, Mr. Conway," Don Mike warned him. "Some ladies are about due on the job." "When'd you light in the Palomar, boy? Gimme your hand. What the say, ain't it a pity the old man couldn't have lasted until you got back? Ain't it, now, son?"

I have a very excellent reason for not selling Panchito to you, but never let it be said that I was such a poor sport I refused to loan him to you provided, of course, Kay agrees to this course. He's her mount, you know, while she's on El Palomar." Parker turned to his daughter. "Kay," he demanded, "do you love your poor old father?"

Don Mike's somber black eyes flashed with mirth. "I understand now why you leased the hacienda and why that twelve-thousand-dollar board bill hurt," he murmured. He turned to Kay and her mother. "Why the poor unfortunate man is forced to remain at the Rancho Palomar in order to protect his bet." His thick black brows lifted piously.

Bring it here, Pablo." The master of Palomar excused himself to his guests long enough to read the telegram, and then continued the announcement of his platform. "My old battery commander, to whom I had promised Panchito, wires me that, for his sins, he has been made a major and ordered to the Army of Occupation on the Rhine.

Farrel had little appetite for food, but, to please Pablo, he drank the soup and toyed with a piece of toast and a glass of wine while the majordomo related to him the events which had taken place at El Palomar since that never-to-be-forgotten day when Tony Moreno had ridden in with the telegram from Washington.

The dead, withered fronds of a decade still clung to the corrugated trunks. In the adjoining oaks vast flocks of crows perched and cawed raucously. This avenue of palms presently debouched onto a little mesa, oak-studded and covered with lush grass, which gave it a pretty, parklike effect. In the center of this mesa stood the hacienda of the Rancho Palomar.