She could not combat this argument, so she said nothing and for a quarter of a mile her companion rode with his chin on his breast, in silence.  What a man of moods he was, she reflected.

“You despair of being able to pay my father the mortgage and regain your ranch?” she asked, at length.

He nodded.

“But you’ll fight to win—­and fight to the finish, will you not?” she persisted.

He glanced at her sharply.  “That is my natural inclination, Miss Kay—­when I permit sentiment to rule me.  But when I apply the principles of sound horse sense—­when I view the approach of the conflict as a military man would view it, I am forced to the conviction that in this case discretion is the better part of valor.  Battles are never won by valorous fools who get themselves killed in a spectacular manner.”

“I see.  You plan to attempt the sale of your equity in the ranch before my father can finally foreclose on you.”

“No, that would be the least profitable course to pursue.  A hundred-thousand-acre ranch is not sold in a hurry unless offered at a tremendous sacrifice.  Even then it is of slow sale.  For the following reasons:  Within a few years, what with the rapid growth of population in this state and the attrition of alien farmers on our agricultural lands, this wonderful valley land of the Rancho Palomar will cease to be assessed as grazing land.  It is agricultural land and as a matter of equity it ought to pay taxes to the state on that basis.  And it will.  I do not know—­I have never heard of—­a cattleman with a million dollars cash on hand, and if I could find such a cattleman who was looking for a hundred thousand acre ranch he would not want half of it to be agricultural land and be forced to bankrupt himself paying taxes on it as such.”

“I think I understand.  The ranch must be sold to some person or company who will purchase it with the idea of selling half of the ranch as grazing land and the valley of the San Gregorio as agricultural land.”

“Quite so.  I would have to interest a sub-division expert whose specialty is the sale of small farms, on time payments.  Well, no business man ever contemplates the purchase, at a top price, of property that is to be sold on mortgage foreclosure; and I think he would be an optimist, indeed, who would bid against your father.”

“Of course,” he continued, patiently, “when the ranch is sold at auction to satisfy the mortgage your father will bid it in at the amount of the mortgage, It is improbable that he will have to pay more.”

“Am I to understand then, Don Mike, that for approximately three hundred thousand dollars he will be enabled, under this atrocious code of business morals, to acquire a property worth at least a million dollars?”

“Such is the law—­a law as old as the world itself.”

“Why, then, the whole thing is absurdly simple, Don Mike.  All you have to do is to get a friend to bid against my father and run the price up on him to something like a half-way decent sum.  In that way you should manage to save a portion of your equity.”