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"Murray," she added, turning to the butler, who was approaching with Okada's suitcase, "show the gentleman to the room with the big bed in it. Dinner will be ready at six, Mr. Okada. Please do not bother to dress for dinner. We're quite informal here."
"Twenty miles, miss, over a narrow dirt road, and some of it winds among hills. I ought to do it handily in an hour without taking any chances." "Take a few chances," she ordered, in a voice meant for his ear alone. "I'm in a hurry." "Forty-five minutes, miss," he answered, in the same confidential tone. Kay sat in the front seat with William, while her father and Okada occupied the tonneau.
Okada, felt it incumbent upon himself to interfere. If, between them, they have hurt Pablo, I shall certainly reduce the extremely erroneous Japanese census records in California by one." John Parker and his wife, with the unsuspecting Okada, were lingering over a late luncheon when Kay and Don Mike entered the dining-room.
The Palomares end of the San Gregorio was too infertile to interest an experienced agriculturist like Okada; there wasn't sufficient acreage to make a colonization-scheme worth while. On the contrary, fifty thousand acres of the Rancho Palomar lay in the heart of the valley and immediately contiguous to the flood-waters at the head of the ghost-river for which the valley was named.
"Okada wants the San Gregorio rather badly, doesn't he? Couldn't wait. The enactment of that anti-alien land bill that will come up in the legislature next year do Mrs. Parker and your daughter know about this attempt to assassinate me?" "No." "They must not know. Plant that Jap somewhere and do it quickly.
I am morally certain Farrel will never redeem the property, but well, you realize my predicament, Mr. Okada. Our deal is definitely hung up for one year." "Very great disappointment!" Okada replied sadly. "Next year, I zink California legislature make new law so Japanese people have very much difficulty to buy land.
To the credit of his race, be it said that it does not subscribe to the philosophy of turning the other cheek. But Pablo was a peon. From somewhere on his person, he produced a dirk and slashed vigorously. Okada evaded the blow, and gave ground. "Quidado!"
As Okada emerged from the dining-room into the patio, Pablo entered from the rear gate, riata in hand; as the Japanese crossed the garden to his room in the opposite wing of the hacienda, Pablo made a deft little cast and dropped his loop neatly over the potato baron's body, pinioning the latter's arms securely to his sides.
"Don Mike's beesiness, she is my beesiness, too, señorita," he growled. "Yes; I zink so," Okada declared. "I zink I go 'nother room." "Murray will prepare one for you, Mr. Okada. I'm so sorry this has happened. Indeed I am!" Pablo hooted. "You sorry, mees? Wait until my Don Mike he's come home and find thees fellow in hees house."
I'll be at the station to see you off." He was as good as his word. The Potato Baron, mounting painfully the steps of the observation car, made hasty appraisal of the station platform and observed Bill Conway swinging his old legs from his perch on an express truck. He favored Okada with a very deliberate nod and a sweeping, semi-military salute of farewell.
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