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 his subordinate position in Don Abrahan's service. His fortunes were in eclipse, his father having been ruined by his loyalty to Spain during the Mexican revolt for freedom, and banished the country, his vast possessions confiscated. Don Felipe, his only son, a stripling then, had taken up the cause of freedom, but had not been well received on account of his hidalgo extraction. Yet he was free to remain in California, the land of his birth, and lay the foundation of a new fortune if he might.

So Don Felipe swelled a bit on hearing this expression of loyalty to his employer. He offered his hand with an impetuosity that surprised Henderson; his face glowed with pleasure; a glistening as of tears was in his eyes.

"A man that sees the way of honor is my friend!" Don Felipe declared. "What is the misfortune of a day that it should debase one man below another? Nothing! I, also, have had my day of misfortune, Don Gabriel. We are both gentlemen; we can forget our differences in our present situation—for this hour."

It seemed an approach with reservations, an unbending with one hand behind the back. Yet Henderson was vastly surprised by it. It was the first word without a taint of oppression and contempt that Don Felipe had spoken to him since his coming to the ranch. He took the proffered hand, clasped it warmly, not without a feeling of friendship and gratitude for the little man who stood