“A wise man counteth his chickens before they are hatched, Miguel.  Where does Parker keep the limousine?”

“Bill, I cannot tell you that.  These people are my guests.”

“Oh, very well.  Now that I know it’s there I’ll find it.  What did you want to see me about, boy?”

“I’ve been thinking of our conversation of this afternoon, Bill, and as a result I’m panicky.  I haven’t any right to drag you into trouble or ask you to share my woes.  I’ve thought it over and I think I shall play safe.  Parker will get the ranch in the long run, but if I give him a quit-claim deed now I think he will give me at least a quarter of a million dollars.  It’ll be worth that to him to be free to proceed with his plans.”

“Yes, I can understand that, Miguel, and probably, from a business standpoint, your decision does credit to your common sense.  But how about this Jap colony?”

“Bill, can two lone, poverty-stricken Californians hope to alter the immigration laws of the entire United States?  Can we hope to keep the present Japanese population of California confined to existing areas?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“I had a wild hope this afternoon—­guess I was a bit theatrical—­but it was a hope based on selfishness.  I’m only twenty-eight years old, Bill, but you are nearly sixty.  I’m too young to sacrifice my old friends, so I’ve waited here to tell you that you are released from your promise to support me.  Settle with Parker and pull out in peace.”

Conway pondered.  “Wel-l-l-l,” he concluded, finally, “perhaps you’re right, son.  Nevertheless, I’m going to enter suit and attach.  Foolish to hunt big game with an empty gun, Miguel.  Parker spoke of an amicable settlement, but as Napoleon remarked, ’God is on the side of the strongest battalions,’ and an amicable settlement is much more amicably obtained, when a forced settlement is inevitable.”  And the cunning old rascal winked solemnly.

Farrel stood up.  “Well, that’s all I wanted to see you about, Bill.  That, and to say ‘thank you’ until you are better paid.”

“Well, I’m on my way, Miguel.”  The old contractor shook hands with Father Dominic and Farrel, cranked his car, turned it and headed back up the San Gregorio, while Father Dominic guided Don Mike into the Mission refectory, where Father Andreas and the lay brothers sat around the dinner table, discussing a black scale which had lately appeared on their olive trees.

At the entrance to the palm avenue, Bill Conway stopped his car and proceeded afoot to the Farrel hacienda, which he approached cautiously from the rear, through the oaks.  A slight breeze was blowing down the valley, so Conway manoeuvred until a short quick bark from one of Farrel’s hounds informed him that his scent had been borne to the kennel and recognized as that of a friend.  Confident now that he would not be discovered by the inmates of the hacienda, Bill