from Farrel, he sold the sheep back to Loustalot at something like a dollar a head under the market value and leased to the amazed Basque for one year the grazing privilege on the Rancho Palomar.  In return for the signing of this lease and the payment of the lease money in advance, Farrel executed to Loustalot a satisfaction in full of the unpaid portion of the judgment.  “For,” as the sheriff remarked to Farrel, “while you hold the balance of that judgment over this fellow’s head your own head is in danger.  It is best to conciliate him, for you will never again have an opportunity to levy against his assets.”

“I think you’re right, Don Nicolas,” Farrel agreed.  “I can never feel wholly safe until I strike a truce with that man.  Tell him I’ll give him back his eight thousand dollar automobile if he will agree on his own behalf and that of his employees, agents and friends, not to bushwhack me or any person connected with me.”

“I have already made him a tentative offer to that effect, my boy, and, now that the first flush of his rage is over, he is a coyote lacking the courage to kill.  He will agree to your proposal, and I shall take occasion to warn him that if he should ever break his word while I am living, I shall consider, in view of the fact that I am the mediator in this matter, that he has broken faith with me, and I shall act accordingly.”

The arrangement with Loustalot was therefore made, and immediately upon his return to the ranch Farrel, knowing that the sheep would spoil his range for the few hundred head of cattle that still remained of the thousands that once had roamed El Palomar, rounded up these cattle and sold them.  And it was in the performance of this duty that he discovered during the roundup, on the trail leading from the hacienda to Agua Caliente basin, a rectangular piece of paper.  It lay, somewhat weather-stained, face up beside the trail, and because it resembled a check, he leaned easily from his horse and picked it up.  To his amazement he discovered it to be a promissory note, in the sum of fifty thousand dollars, in favor of Kay Parker and signed by William D. Conway.

Pablo was beating the thickets in the river bottom, searching out some spring calves he knew were lurking there, when his master reined up beside him.

“Pablo,” he demanded, “has Senor Conway been to the ranch during my absence?”

“No, Don Miguel, he has not.”

“Has Senorita Parker ridden Panchito over to Senor Conway’s camp at Agua Caliente basin?”

“Yes, Don Miguel.  I rode behind her, in case of accident.”

“What day was that?”

Pablo considered.  “The day after you were shot, Don Miguel.”

“Did you see Senorita Parker give Senor Conway a writing?”

“I did, truly.  She wrote from a small leathern book and tore out the page whereon she wrote.  In return Senor Conway made a writing and this he gave to Senorita Parker who accepted it.