Mr. and Mrs. Parker had, in the meantime, galloped up and stood by, interested spectators, while Don Mike searched round until he found a hard, thick, dry, broken limb from the sycamore.

“This certainly is my day for making money,” he announced gaily.  “Here’s where I put thirty dollars toward that three-hundred-thousand-dollar mortgage.”  He stepped up to the lion and stunned it with a blow over the head, after which he removed the riata from the creature’s loins, slipped the noose round the cat’s neck, and hoisted the unconscious brute clear of the ground.

“Now then,” he announced cheerfully, “we’ll just leave this fellow to contemplate the result of a life of shame.  He shall hang by the neck until he is dead—­dead—­dead!  We’ll pick him up on our way back, and to-night I’ll skin him.  Fall in, my squad!  On our way.”

“Do you do that sort of thing very often, Mr. Farrel?” Parker queried.

“Life is a bit dull out here, sir.  Any time the dogs put up a panther in the open, we try to rope him and have a little fun.  This is the first one I have roped alone, however.  I always did want to rope a panther all by myself.  Ordinarily, I would not have told Miss Kay to head that cat in toward me, but, then, she didn’t flunk the gate back yonder, and I had a great curiosity to see if she’d flunk the cat.  She didn’t and”—­he turned toward her with beaming, prideful eyes—­“if I were out of debt, I wouldn’t trade my friendship with a girl as game as you, Kay, for the entire San Gregorio valley.  You’re a trump.”

“You’re rather a Nervy Nat yourself, aren’t you?” her droll mother struck in.  “As a Christian martyr, you would have had the Colosseum to yourself; every tiger and lion in Rome would have taken to the tall timber when you came on.”

As he rode ahead, chuckling, to join her daughter, Farrel knew that at all events he had earned the approval of the influential member of the Parker family.  Mrs. Parker, on her part, was far more excited than her colloquial humor indicated.

“John,” she whispered, “did you notice it?”

“Notice what?”

“I don’t know why I continue to live with you—­you’re so dull!  In his excitement, he just called her ‘Kay.’  Last night, when they met, she was ‘Miss Parker.’  At noon to-day, she was ‘Miss Kay’ and now she’s plain ‘Kay.’” A cloud crossed his brow, but he made no answer, so, woman-like, she pressed for one.  “Suppose our daughter should fall in love with this young man?”

“That would be more embarrassing than ever, from a business point of view,” he admitted, “and the Lord knows this fellow has me worried enough already.  He’s no mean antagonist.”

“That’s what the panther probably thought, John.”

“His decoration, and that stunt—­dazzling to the average girl,” he muttered.

“In addition to his good looks, exquisite manners, and, I am quite certain, very high sense of honor and lofty ideals,” she supplemented.