"Guerrero was my captain when, as a subaltern, I sailed these western seas, and saw service in the Philippines--service that was service. Tell me of my one-time leader. Is he well?" "He is well, and the years have small meaning to his strength." Captain Morando talked with his host of the campaigns of General Guerrero in the Spanish trans-Mediterranean dependencies; of the newly concluded peace there; and of the retirement of the General by the age limit, but all the while his mind was fashioning love songs outside the window of the fair señorita. Through the haze of tobacco smoke the strong, kindly face of the Administrator of Mission San José de Guadalupe softened into the sweet face of the doña, with her laughing eyes and beautiful hair; his deep voice gave way to the lighter tones of the daughter. "Peace in North Africa brought relief to the young soldier from discomforts of the campaign. Was it not so?" "Señor Mendoza, it brought the weariness of camp and garrison. The morning drill, the after-luncheon parade, the society function in the evening, ill filled my idea of the life a man should live. Besides, the ambitious soldier sees advancement only in a life of action. I sought a change and I found one. My resignation was easily effected. I then carried my letters to the Mexican war secretary, whom I made acquainted with my preference. Accordingly, came my assignment to San José pueblo." "Good! Good, my Captain! During my visit in Mexico just concluded I learned that you had been appointed comandante. Some wine in your glass?" "No more, thank you." "What, not any? The young man is abstemious. That is well. Strong and lusty age follows youth lived along the way of moderation." The men puffed their cigars. Higher and higher, in widening circles, rose the incense of the fragrant leaf. The Administrator was busy with his thoughts; likewise the guest. "His daughter, he intimates, is too young for late hours. Many a night, at low twelve, during his sojourn in Mexico, have I sung to her from my corner in the courtyard. What would he say if he knew that to-night is not my first visit thither--nor yet my second--nor my third--nor yet----" The older man broke the silence. "Soldier, our California needs men." Morando started slightly, then signified by a movement of the head that he had heard. Mendoza exhaled several whiffs of his Havana before speaking further, meanwhile surveying the alert form and soldierly features of the Captain. "Life is not all play, as many appear to think it is. Our province has passed the years of childhood. With maturity comes duty as waking with day." The soldier listened with interest. "I believe the cleavage of California and Mexico is near at hand. They fall apart by their own weight. Even the Mexican secretary of state spoke openly of this to me a month ago." "Then what comes, Señor Mendoza?"