"He brought with him three others; all have gone forth to
take possession of Loustalot's sheep."
Farrel nodded and dismounted to assist Mrs. Parker as the latter came
down from her horse, somewhat stiffly. When he turned to perform a
similar office for her daughter, however, the girl smilingly shook her
head.
"I shipped for the cruise, Don Mike," she assured him. "May I ride
home with you? Remember, you've got to pick up your rope and that
panther's pelt." Her adorable face flushed faintly as her gaze sought
her mother's. "I have never seen a panther undressed," she protested.
"Well," her amiable mother replied, with her customary hearty manner,
"far be it from me to deprive you of that interesting sight. Take good
care of her, Miguel. I hold you responsible for her."
"You are very kind to trust me so."
Both Parker and his wife noted that his words were not mere polite
patter. Farrel's gravely courteous bearing, his respectful bow to Mrs.
Parker and the solemnity with which he spoke impressed them with the
conviction that this curious human study in light and shadow regarded
their approval as an honor, not a privilege.
"I shall take very good care of Miss Kay," he supplemented. "We shall
be home for dinner."
He mounted the gray gelding, leaving Pablo to follow with the black
mare and the pinto, while he and Kay cantered down the wide white wash
of the Rio San Gregorio.
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