“I wish I could fall in love with some fine girl, marry her, and give my father optical assurance, before he passes on, that the Farrel tribe is not, like the mule, without pride of ancestry or hope of posterity,” he mused; “but I’ll be shot if I’ll ever permit myself to fall in love with the sort of woman I want until I know I have something more tangible than love and kisses to offer her.  About all I own in this world is this old uniform and Panchito—­and I’m getting home just in time to prevent my father from selling him at auction for the benefit of my estate.  And since I’m going to chuck this uniform to-morrow and give Panchito away the day after—­by the gods of War, that girl gave me a fright when she was trying to remember the name of old man Gonzales’s ranch!  If it had been the Palomar instead of the Palomares!  I might be able to stand the sight of Japs on the Palomares end of the San Gregorio, but on the Palomar—­”

At four o’clock, when the train whistled for Sespe, he hurried back to the observation-car to procure his baggage preparatory to alighting from the train.  The girl sat in the seat opposite his, and she looked up at him now with friendly eyes.

“Would you care to leave your things in the car and entrust them to father’s man?” she queried.  “We would be glad to take them in the motor as far as the mission.  My father suggested it,” she added.

“Your father’s a brick.  I shall be happy to accept, thank you.  Just tell the chauffeur to leave them off in front of the mission and I’ll pick them up when I come over the trail from Sespe.  I can make far better time over the hills without this suitcase, light as it is.”

“You’re exceedingly welcome, Sergeant.  And, by the way, I have decided not to contest your right to Panchito.  It wouldn’t be sporty of me to outbid you for your dead buddy’s horse.”

His heart leaped.

“I think you’re tremendously sweet,” he declared bluntly.  “As matters stand, we happen to have a half-brother of Panchito up on the ranch—­or, at least, we did have when I enlisted.  He’s coming four, and he ought to be a beauty.  I’ll break him for you myself.  However,” he added, with a deprecatory grin, “I—­I realize you’re not the sort of girl who accepts gifts from strangers; so, if you have a nickel on you, I’ll sell you this horse, sight unseen.  If he’s gone, I’ll give the nickel back.”

“You are quite right,” she replied, with an arch smile.  “I could not possibly accept a gift from a stranger.  Neither could I buy a horse from a stranger—­no; not even at the ridiculous price of five cents.”

“Perhaps if I introduced myself—­have I your permission to be that bold?”

“Well,” she replied, still with that bright, friendly, understanding smile, “that might make a difference.”