Father Dominic rose and peered around the corner. "Yonder comes one
who practises the great virtue of economy," he announced, "for he is
running without lights. Doubtless he deems the moonlight sufficient."
Farrel stepped out into the road and held up his arm as a signal for
the motorist to halt. Old Bill Conway swung his prehistoric automobile
off the road and pulled up before the Mission, his carbon-heated motor
continuing to fire spasmodically even after he had turned off the
ignition.
"Hello, Miguel," he called, cheerily. "What are you doing here, son?"
"Calling on my spiritual adviser and waiting for you, Bill."
"Howdy, Father Dominic." Conway leaped out and gave his hand to the
old friar. "Miguel, how did you know I was coming?"
"This is the only road out of Agua Caliente basin--and I know you!
You'd give your head for a football to anybody you love, but the man
who takes anything away from you will have to get up early in the
morning."
"Go to the head of the class, boy. You're right. I figured Parker
would be getting up rather early tomorrow morning and dusting into El
Toro to clear for action, so I thought I'd come in to-night. I'm going
to rout out an attorney the minute I get to town, have him draw up a
complaint in my suit for damages against Parker for violation of
contract, file the complaint the instant the county clerk's office
opens in the morning and then attach his account in the El Toro bank.
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