The Pride of Palomar

d he return to the observation-platform. He did not wish to meet her as a discharged soldier, homeward bound-the sort of stray dog every man, woman, and child feels free to enter i

desire her to realize it also. He had a feeling that, should they meet frequently in the future, they would become very good friend

f pre-war days, but to one newer, better, more ambitious, and efficient. Farrel realized that a continuation of his dolce-far-niente life on the Rancho Palomar under the careless, generous, and rather shiftless administration of his father was not for him. Indeed,

ment and the application of modern ranching principles, he would succeed, by the time he was fifty, in saving this principality intact for those who might come after him, for it was not a part of his life plan to die childless-now that the war was over and he out of it practically with a whole skin. This aspect of his future he considered as the train rolled into the Southland. He was twenty-eight years old, and he had never been in love, although, sinc

an family as well as in the animal kingdom, and we know from experience that it never fails there. An infusion of pep is what our family needs, and I'll be hange

informed Don Mike that the latter was too infernally particular. By the blood of the devil, his so

o improve our race by judicious selection when I mate. And, of course,

the old don had

on you will have if you leave me to follow my own desires in this matter. In him will be blended the courtliness and chivalry of Spain, the imagery and romance and belligerency o

nt until I know I have something more tangible than love and kisses to offer her. About all I own in this world is this old uniform and Panchito-and I'm getting home just in time to prevent my father from selling him at auction for the benefit of my estate. And since I'm going to chuck this uniform to-morrow an

vation-car to procure his baggage preparatory to alighting from the train. The g

o father's man?" she queried. "We would be glad to take them in th

leave them off in front of the mission and I'll pick them up when I come over the trail fr

ve decided not to contest your right to Panchito. It wouldn'

eart

when I enlisted. He's coming four, and he ought to be a beauty. I'll break him for you myself. However," he added, with a deprecatory grin, "I-I realize you're not

possibly accept a gift from a stranger. Neither could I buy a horse

myself-have I your perm

t bright, friendly, understanding s

Farrel, better known as 'Don Mike,' of the Rancho Palomar, and I own Panchito. To quote the language of Mark Twain, 'the report of my death has been grossly exaggerated,

ns of perturbation. While he had talked, the train had slid to a momentary halt for the f

He hurried through the screen door to the platform, stepped over the brass railing, and clung there

t?" he mused, as he stood there watching

bottom-land, entered a trail through the chaparral, and started his upward c

ather would he sell his own mount and retain Panchito for the sake of the son he mourned as dead. The Palomares end of the San Gregorio was too infertile to interest an experienced agriculturist like Okada; there wasn't sufficient acreage t

last of the sunlight had faded from the San Gregorio before he topped the crest of its western boundary; the melody of Brother Flavio's angelus had ceased an hour previous, and over the mountains to the east a ful

mission, as promised. So he passed along the front of the ancient pile and let himself in through a wooden door in the high adobe wall that surrounded the churchyard immediately adjacent to the mission. With the assurance of one who treads familiar ground, he strode rapidly up a weed-grown

hen he left the Palomar. At the head of it stood a tile taken from the ruin of the missi

ll

José Nori

Junio

eciembre

knelt in the mold of his father's g