Patty’s honest gaze encountered the appraising glint in the coot grey eyes of the foppish scape-grace before her.  She lowered her own eys quickly to hid a hunted look in their dark depths as she answered: 

“Sir, after the week of races, you shall have your answer.”

“And then I shall give up my present means of gaining a livelihood, and, repairing to San Francisco, shall enter into a profession more fitting the social station of the lady who is to become my wife.”  He bowed deeply and withdrew, leaving Patty with a sad face and tearfilled eyes.

At last she straightened her tall figure resolutely.  “I must not give way to tears.  I can not!  I will not!  There must be some way to pay my father’s debts beside this extremity, to which death is almost preferable.  There is still a week’s time.  A week — only a week.”  Panic overwhelmed her, and when someone gently took her hand, she cried aloud in terror.

“Why, Sweetheart, do I frighten you so?  I waited long upon the mesa near the speed-track at the spot we had agreed upon, and when you did not come I fared forth to meet you.”

“Eric, it is Saul again.  What can I do?”

“Dear, I have about $2000 which I am resolved to play on the races.  I will win.  I must.  Old Irish Mike has brought over his whole stableful of saddle horses and I was raised in Kentucky.  Do not despair, we shall beat the gambler at his own game.  Here is Mike, now.  Perhaps — Mike, it’s a fine string of horses you’ve picked up.

“It is so.  Many a thoroughbred I’ve bought that came all the way from Kentucky or Missouri.  All that had the stamina to get to Californy, the one thing left that many of the poor devils could sell when they reached the coast.”

“Mike, some of them are faster than others, I suppose.”

“’Tis what half the shoe-string gamblers in the camp have tried to find out.  I may have me own opinion, but it’s to meself I’ll kape it till afther the races are run.  I will not spile sport.  Have ye seen the last cayuse that’s bein’ put in?

“You mean the cow pony that came in with the bunch of cattle from the Napa Valley yesterday?”

“The same.  The auld boy, whilst in his cups, is bettin’ she can beat anythin’ on four legs, even jack rabbits an’ antelope.  The precious gamblin’ riff-raff are fillin’ him up with tanglefoot, proper.”

“Why, Mike?” Mike glanced at the silent girl and then down into the gulch below.

“Miss Patty, have ye visited the claims?”

“No, but I should like to.”

“Come, then, if ye will so pleasure an old man.  The men will not be workin’ tomorrow.  They will be that pleased to show a lady how to wash a pan o’ dirt, they will be saltin’ ivery pan wit’ nuggets for ye!  Eric, lad,” he called back to the tall young man, “ye might look the cow horse over.  She has not been curried for long; yet, whisper, beauty is but skin deep an’ the finest rapier is often encased in a rusty scabbard.”