And now, although Kay did not understand a word of what he said, she
realized that in his mother tongue he was infinitely more tender, more
touching, more dramatic than he could possibly be in English, for his
audience wagged approving' heads now and paid him the tribute of many a
furtive tear.
Don Nicolas Sandoval rode his horse through the crowd presently and
opened a path for the car.
"I'm afraid this has been a trifle embarrassing for you, Miss Parker,"
Farrel remarked, as they proceeded down the street. "I shall not
recognize any more of them. I've greeted them all in general, and some
day next week I'll come to town and greet them in detail. They were all
glad I came back, though, weren't they?" he added, with a boy's
eagerness. "Lord, but I was glad to see them!"
"I can hardly believe you are the same man I saw manhandling your enemy
an hour ago," she declared.
"Oh," he replied, with a careless shrug, "fighting and loving are the
only two worth-while things in life. Park in front of the court-house,
William, please."
He excused himself to Kay and ran lightly up the steps. Fifteen minutes
later, he returned.
"I have a writ of execution," he declared. "Now to find the sheriff and
have him serve it."
They located Don Nicolas Sandoval at the post-office, one leg cocked over
the pommel of his saddle, and the El Toro _Sentinel_ spread on his knee.
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