There was little conversation in this company made up of individuals usually vivacious and talkative. The tenseness of eager expectation held everyone quiet. The meal was not much more than finished when Captain Farquharson entered the room unannounced. The men and women sprang up. "Señora Valentino," the Captain called. She stepped to his side. "My scouts have rushed word to me that Barcelo has left Alisal and is stampeding to Monterey." "What is that you say, Captain?" from the señora, incredulously. "Barcelo is but a few miles from the outskirts of town, saying he is going to proclaim himself dictator of a California republic, and calling down vengeance on anyone opposing. The fat's in the fire if Fairbanks gets wind of this." "I must ride at once and meet the Colonel." "Would that I could meet him with my old company in the Coldstream Guards! Bull-dog or no, he'd not forget the hour. I'll go along with you, señora, but it's precious little that anyone can do with such a man." After requesting those present to await her return, the señora mounted her horse and rode rapidly toward El Camino Real, Farquharson riding with her as far as the city limits, when she said to him: "I will go on now by myself, Captain." "As you wish. I'll stay here, then, till you come back." Time dragged. Captain Farquharson dismounted and nervously led his animal back and forth. An hour passed, and yet another. Still the Captain was at his post. For the hundredth time he fiercely drew his watch from his pocket, scowled at its face and as fiercely thrust it back. In sudden desperation the man sprang to horse. With two fingers on his lips he began a whistle-call, but stopped abruptly. The señora had emerged from the fog. "Señora Valentino, long ago I sent men to see if you were safe. They reported that you and Barcelo were riding up and down an outer street talking, talking, talking. You have been in conference with him over two hours. Of course nothing could be done with him." "Colonel Barcelo has gone home, after sending his men to the barracks. When Fairbanks comes the Colonel will turn the government over to him formally, and give him the right hand of fellowship." "How did you manage?" he asked. "By making appeal both to his less worthy nature and to his higher." "How do you mean?" "First, by arousing jealousy, convincing him that a California republic would surely make Mendoza its president. Second, in appealing to his nobler side. I said to him that a California republic would mean internecine strife--Monterey, the brain and heart of the province, fighting the north and the south, its hands and feet. So between the two arguments the cause was won." "You actually induced him to go home?" "He has gone," smiling. "Sister Clarinda aided me, a wife's influence, you know." Farquharson wrinkled his forehead knowingly.