“I suppose I ought not discuss my father’s business affairs with a stranger,” she replied, “but since he is making no secret of them, I dare say I do not violate his confidence when I tell you that he has a deal on with Mr. Okada to colonize the San Gregorio valley in San Marcos County.”

The look of a thousand devils leaped into Farrel’s eyes.  The storm of passion that swept him was truly Latin in its terrible intensity.  He glared at the girl with a malevolence that terrified her.

“My valley’” he managed to murmur presently.  “My beautiful San Gregorio!  Japs!  Japs!”

“I hadn’t the faintest idea that information would upset you so,” the girl protested.  “Please forgive me.”

“I—­I come from the San Gregorio,” he cried passionately.  “I love every rock and cactus and rattlesnake in it. Valgame Dios!” And the maimed right hand twisted and clutched as, subconsciously, he strove to clench his fist.  “Ah, who was the coward—­who was the traitor that betrayed us for a handful of silver?”

“Yes; I believe there is a great deal of the Latin about you,” she said demurely.  “If I had a temper as volcanic as yours, I would never, never go armed.”

“I could kill with my naked hands the white man who betrays his community to a Jap. Madre de Dios, how I hate them!”

“Well, wait until your trusty right hand is healed before you try garroting anybody,” she suggested dryly.  “Suppose you cool off, Mr. Pepper-pot, and tell me more about this terrible menace?”

“You are interested—­really?”

“I could be made to listen without interrupting you, if you could bring yourself to cease glaring at me with those terrible chile-con-carne eyes.  I can almost see myself at my own funeral.  Please remember that I have nothing whatsoever to do with my father’s business affairs.”

“Your father looks like a human being, and if he realized the economic crime he is fostering—­”

“Easy, soldier!  You’re discussing my father, whereas I desire to discuss the Yellow Peril.  To begin, are you prejudiced against a citizen of Japan just because he’s a Jap?”

“I will be frank.  I do not like the race.  To a white man, there is nothing lovable about a Jap, nothing that would lead, except in isolated cases, to a warm friendship between members of our race and theirs.  And I dare say the individual Jap has as instinctive a dislike for us as we have for him.”

“Well then, how about John Chinaman?”

His face brightened.

“Oh, a Chinaman is different.  He’s a regular fellow.  You can have a great deal of respect and downright admiration for a Chinaman, even of the coolie class.”

“Nevertheless, the Chinese are excluded from California.”

He nodded.