Sundown kept Pill loping steadily. It was a long ride, but Sundown's mind was so preoccupied with the preparing of his proposed appeal to the sheep-man that the morning hours and the sunlit miles swept past unnoticed. The dark green of the acacias bordering the hacienda, the twinkling white of the speeding windmill, and the dull brown of the adobes became distinct and separate colors against the far edge of the eastern sky. He reined his pony to a walk. "When you're in a hurry to do somethin'," he informed his horse, "it ain't always good politics to let folks know it. So we'll ride up easy, like we had money to spend, and was jest lookin' over the show-case." And Pill was not averse to the suggestion. Sundown dismounted, opened the gate, and swinging to the saddle, rode up to the ranch-house. Had he known that Anita, the daughter of Chico Miguel, was at that moment talking with the wife of one of Loring's herders; that she was describing him in glowing terms to her friend, and moreover, as he passed up the driveway, that Anita had turned swiftly, dropping the pitcher of milk which she had just brought from the cooling-room as she saw him, he might well have been excused from promulgating his mission of peace with any degree of coherence. Sublimely ignorant of her presence,--spiritualists and sentimentalists to the contrary in like instances,--he rode directly to the hacienda, asked for the patron, and was shown to the cool interior of the house by the mildly astonished Senora. Senor Loring would return presently. Would the gentleman refresh himself by resting until the Senor returned? Possibly she herself could receive the message--or the Senorita, who was in the garden? "Thanks, lady. I reckon Pill is dry--wants a drink--agua--got a thirst. No, ma'am. I can wait. I mean me horse." "Oh! Si! But Juan would attend to the horse and at once." "Thanks, lady. And if Miss Loring ain't too busy, I reckon I'd like to see her a minute." The Senora disappeared. Sundown could hear her call for Juan. Presently Nell Loring came to the room, checked an exclamation of surprise as she recognized him, and stepping forward, offered her hand. "You're from Mr. Corliss. I remember. . . . Is Chance all right now?" "Yes, ma'am. He is enjoyin' fust-rate health. He eats reg'lar--and rabbits in between. But I ain't from the Concho, lady. I'm from me own ranch, down there at the water-hole. Me boss ain't got nothin' to do with me bein' here. It's me own idea. I come friendly and wishful to make a little talk to your pa."