“You are, mother dear.  Dad reminds me of a horse at a livery-stable fire.  You rescue him from the flames, but the instant you let go his halter-shank, he dashes into the burning barn.”  She winked ever so slightly at Farrel.  “Thanks to you, Don Mike,” she assured him, “father’s claws are clipped for one year; thanks to you, again, we now have a nice, quiet place to incarcerate him.”

Farrel could see that John Parker, while outwardly appearing to enjoy this combined attack against him, was secretly furious.  And Don Mike knew why.  His pride as a business man was being cruelly lacerated; he had foolishly crawled out on the end of a limb, and now there was a probability, although a remote one, that Miguel Farrel would saw off the limb before he could crawl back.

“Perhaps, Mr. Farrel,” he replied, with a heroic attempt at jocularity, “you will understand now that it was not altogether a cold hard heart that prompted me to decline your request for a renewal of the mortgage this morning.  I couldn’t afford to.  I had agreed to gamble one million dollars that you were thoroughly and effectually dead—­I couldn’t see one chance in a million where this ranch would get away from me.”

“Well, do not permit yourself to become down-hearted, Mr. Parker,” Don Mike assured him whimsically.  “I cannot see one chance in a million where you are going to lose it.”

“Thank you for the heartening effect of those words, Mr. Farrel.”

“I think I understand the reason underlying all this speed, Mr. Parker.  You and Okada feared that next year the people of this state will so amend their faulty anti-alien land law of 1913 that it will be impossible for any Oriental to own or lease California land then.  So you proceeded with your improvements during the redemption period, confident that the ranch would never be redeemed, in order that you might be free to deal with Okada before the new law went into effect.  Okada would not deal with you until he was assured the water could be gotten on the land.”

“Pa’s thrown out at first base!” Mrs. Parker shrilled.  “Poor old pa!”

Don Mike’s somber black eyes flashed with mirth.  “I understand now why you leased the hacienda and why that twelve-thousand-dollar board bill hurt,” he murmured.  He turned to Kay and her mother.  “Why the poor unfortunate man is forced to remain at the Rancho Palomar in order to protect his bet.”  His thick black brows lifted piously.  “Don’t cheer, boys,” he cried tragically; “the poor devil is going fast now!  Is there anybody present who remembers a prayer or who can sing a hymn?”

Kay’s adorable face twitched as she suppressed a chuckle at her father’s expense, but now that Parker was being assailed by all three, his loyal wife decided to protect him.

“Well, Johnny’s a shrewd gambler after all,” she declared.  “If you do not redeem the ranch, he will get odds of two and a half to one on his million-dollar bet and clean up in a year.  With water on the lands of the San Gregorio, Okada’s people will pay five hundred dollars an acre cash for the fifty thousand acres.”