“How do you know all this?  You were not present.”

“No; I was not present.  Miss Parker, but—­this check is present; those sheep are present; Andre Loustalot was present, then absent, and is now present again.  I deduce the facts in the case.  The information that I was alive and somewhere around the hacienda gave Loustalot the fright of his unwashed existence; that’s why he appropriated that gray horse and fled so precipitately when he discovered his automobile had a fiat tire.  The scoundrel feared to take time to shift wheels.”

“Why?”

“He had the promise of a Farrel that a great misfortune would overtake him if he ever get foot on the Rancho Palomar.  And he knows the tribe of Farrel.”

“But how did you secure possession of that check, Don Mike?”

“Miss Parker, when a hard-boiled, unconvicted murderer and grass-thief borrows my horse without my permission, and I ride that sort of man down, upset him, sit on him, and choke him, the instincts of my ancestors, the custom of the country, common sense, and my late military training all indicate to me that I should frisk him for deadly weapons.  I did that.  Well, I found this check when I frisked Loustalot back yonder.  And—­if a poor bankrupt like myself may be permitted to claim a right, you are not so well entitled to that check as I am.  At least, I claim it by right of discovery.”

“It is worthless until my father endorses it, Don Mike.”

“His clear, bold chirography will not add a mite to its value, Miss Parker.  Checks by Andre Loustalot on the First National Bank of El Toro aren’t going to be honored for some little time.  Why?  I’ll tell you.  Because Little Mike the Hustler is going to attach his bank-account this bright April morning.”

She laughed happily.

“You haven’t wasted much time in vain regret, have you?” she teased him.  “When you start hustling for a living, you’re a man what hustles, aren’t you?”

“‘Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty,’” he quoted.  “Those sheep weren’t visible to us from the floor of the valley; so I take it I was not visible to Loustalot’s shepherds from the top of those hills when I redeemed my father’s promise to their employer.  They’d never suspect the identity of either of us, I dare say.  Well, Pablo will hold him incomunicado until I’ve completed my investigations.”

“Why are you incarcerating him in your private bastile, Don Mike?”

“Well, I never thought to profane my private bastile with that fellow, but I have to keep him somewhere while I’m looking up his assets.”

“But he may sue you for false imprisonment, kidnapping, or—­or something.”

“Yes; and I imagine he’d get a judgment against me.  But what good would that do him?  I haven’t any assets.”

“But you’re going to acquire some rather soon, are you not?”

“I’ll give all my money to my friend, Father Dominic, to do with as he sees fit.  He’ll see fit to loan it all back to me.”