“Many a mission and presidio, and many a rancho, you have visited during your career, Captain Fly-by-Night, always to leave behind you broken hearts and empty purses. Your skill with the cards and dice, it is said, is such as to be almost supernatural. There is another explanation for it, of course. Your way with women, too, has been made notorious. But never did you come near San Diego de Alcalá while Señor Fernandez was alive, knowing well what to expect if you did. Now that he is dead, you dare to come, after making your boasts.” “I am learning things regarding myself,” said the caballero. “When we heard of your boast, we considered what to do,” Lopez went on. “Did the padres let the men of the mission whip you and send you back up El Camino Real, as they should, you could say that you had no chance, one man against so many score, and, moreover, the well-known hospitality of San Diego de Alcalá would be outraged. So we decided upon another course, Captain Fly-by-Night. “The country is both long and broad, and we do not say you cannot live in it. But so far as San Diego de Alcalá and its people are concerned--ranch owner, fray, neophyte or soldier--you do not exist, _señor_. No man, woman or child will speak to you. You can purchase neither food nor wine here. The sweet _señorita_ whose name you have insulted with your boasts will pass within half a dozen feet of you and see you not. You will be a nothing, not given as much consideration as a coyote. Do you understand me, _señor_?” “You speak plainly enough,” the caballero replied. “If you wish to remain under those conditions, we will make no effort to prevent you. When Rojerio Rocha arrives--and he is expected within a few days--and weds our fair Anita, being then in the position of a husband, he may see fit to chastise you for your ill-timed boasts. If you care to admit that you boasted once too often, and wish to return to the north, there is grain and hay for your horse at the end of the wall, and we will not call it theft if you feed your animal. Your absence would be well worth the price of a few measures of grain.” “That is all you have to say, Señor Lopez?” “I have opened my lips to tell you how things stand, Captain Fly-by-Night. Hereafter they shall remain closed in your presence.” “If there should be some mistake about that boast----” Lopez looked at the caballero, then turned toward the shelf and began arranging the jars again. The anger was dying out of the face of the caballero now, and the smile that came upon his lips was more inscrutable than before. “At least, I leave the coin in payment for the damage I have caused,” he said; and started toward the door. He heard the quick step of Lopez behind him, but did not turn. He threw the door open wide, and stepped out. Something whizzed past his head and struck the ground before him. He looked at it--the coin he had left on the counter.