"Rather a hard task to comb this ranch
for a few hundred head of cattle when the number of one's riders is
limited, but we have gotten the herd corraled at the old race-track."
He unbuckled his old leathern chaps, and stepped out of them, threw
them across the saddle and with a slap sent his horse away to the barn.
"You're feeling quite yourself again?" she hazarded hopefully.
"My foolish head doesn't bother me," he replied smilingly, "but my
equally foolish heart--" he heaved a gusty Castilian sigh and tried to
appear forlorn.
"Filled with mixed metaphors," he added. "May I sit here with you?"
She made room for him beside her on the bench. He seated himself,
leaned back against the bole of the catalpa tree and stretched his
legs, cramped from a long day in the saddle. The indolent gaze of his
black eyes roved over her approvingly before shifting to the shadowy
beauty of the valley and the orange-hued sky beyond, and a silence fell
between them.
"I was thinking to-day," the girl said presently, "that you've been so
busy since your return you haven't had time to call on any of your old
friends."
"That is true, Miss Parker."
"You _have_ called me Kay," she reminded him. "Wherefore this sudden
formality, Don Mike?"
"My name is Miguel. You're right, Kay. Fortunately, all of my friends
called on me when I was in the hospital, and at that time I took pains
to remind them that my social activities would be limited for at least
a year.
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