“No, I must confess I do not, Pablo.”

“Don Miguel is standing beside thees horse.  He makes tighter the saddle; he is tying those latigo and he have the head bent leetle hit while he pull those latigo through the ring.  Bang!  Those Jap shoot at Don Miguel.  He miss, but the bullet she hit thees pommel, she go flat against the steel, she bounce off and hit Don Miguel on top the head.  The force for keel heem is use’ up when the bullet hit thees pommel, but still those bullet got plenty force for knock Don Miguel seelly, no?”

“Spent ball, eh?  I think you’re right, Pablo.”

Pablo relapsed into one of his infrequent Gringo solecisms.  “You bet you my life you know eet,” he said.

John Parker took a hundred dollar bill from his pocket.  “Pablo,” he said with genuine feeling, “you’re a splendid fellow.  I know you don’t like me, but perhaps that is because you do not know me very well.  Don Miguel knows I had nothing to do with this attempt to kill him, and if Don Miguel bears me no ill-will, I’m sure you should not.  I wish you would accept this hundred dollar bill, Pablo?”

Pablo eyed the bill askance.  “What for?” he demanded.

“For the way you handled that murdering Jap.  Pablo, that was a bully job of work.  Please accept this bill.  If I didn’t like you I would not offer it to you.”

“Well, I guess Carolina mebbeso she can use eet.  But first I ask Don Miguel if eet is all right for me take eet.”  He departed for the house to return presently with an anticipatory smile on his dusky countenance.  “Don Miguel say to me, senor:  ’Pablo, any people she’s stay my house he’s do what she please.’ Gracias, Senor Parker.”  And he pouched the bill. “Mille gracias, senor.”

“Pray, do not mention it, Pablo.”

“All right,” Pablo agreed.  “Eef you don’t like eet, well, I don’ tell somebody!”

CHAPTER XXV

Bill Conway driving up the San Gregorio in his prehistoric automobile, overtook Kay and her mother walking home from the Mission, and drove them the remainder of the distance back to the hacienda.  Arrived here, old Conway resurrected the stolen spark plugs and returned them to Parker’s chauffeur, after which he invited himself to luncheon.  Apparently his raid of the night previous rested lightly on his conscience, and Parker’s failure to quarrel with him lifted him immediately out of any fogs of apprehension that may have clouded his sunny soul.

“Hello, Conway,” Parker greeted him, as the old contractor came into the dining room and hung his battered old hat on a wall peg.  “Did you bring back my spark plugs?”

“Did better’n that,” Conway retorted.  “The porcelain on one plug was cracked and sooner or later you were bound to have trouble with it.  So I bought you a new one.”

“Do any good for yourself in El Toro this morning?”