Parker, you understand now--"
"Yes, yes, Farrel. Please do not rub it in."
"Okada wants the San Gregorio rather badly, doesn't he? Couldn't wait.
The enactment of that anti-alien land bill that will come up in the
legislature next year--do Mrs. Parker and your daughter know about this
attempt to assassinate me?"
"No."
"They must not know. Plant that Jap somewhere and do it quickly.
Confound you, Pablo, you should have known better than to drag your
kill home, like an old she-cat bringing in a gopher. As for my
head--well, I was thrown from my horse and struck on a sharp rock. The
ladies would be frightened and worried if they thought somebody was
gunning for me. When Bill Conway shows up with your spark plugs I'd be
obliged, Mr. Parker, if you'd run me in to El Toro. I'll have to have
my head tailored a trifle, I think."
With a weak wave of his hand he dismissed everybody, so Parker and
Pablo adjourned to the stables to talk over the events of the morning.
Standing patiently at the corral gate they found the gray horse,
waiting to be unsaddled--a favor which Pablo proceeded at once to
extend.
"_Mira_!" he called suddenly and directed Parser's attention to the
pommel of Don Mike's fancy saddle, The rawhide covering on the shank of
the pommel had been torn and scored and the steel beneath lay exposed.
"You see?" Pablo queried. "You understan', _senor_?"
"No, I must confess I do not, Pablo.
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