"Cap', if I do admit it, I never saw such a place as this for growin' things. Look at that grass. The finest hay in America could be cut there in way less than a month. Good oat, too, every spear of it. Reckon 'twill pretty much go to waste. Durn shame it is. Wish I had a hundred of them acres back in old Missouri. Whew!" Early in the morning Brown and his employer had ridden down the hills skirting the eastern rim of Santa Clara valley, and were laboriously making their way through the luxuriant growths of that fertile section. "I am not sure these acres will not be as valuable one day where they are as they would be in your native section," returned Farquharson. "Put in your wheat, rye or barley here," continued Brown; "raise your crop. Then where be ye? Nobody round to buy you up and pay you money. We're too durn fur away here, Cap', for the country to be more'n bird ranges--yes, bird ranges, where the blessed little fellers can warble and chatter from daylight to their bedtime." "Brown, what would you think if I predict that in a short time colonists will come here, men understanding farming and tree culture, to make this Western country their home?" Brown shook his head. "If they double our tracks, Cap' from Santa Fé here, they'll need their fairy boots. Mighty rough trail we followed, and it's no smoother yet, I reckon. Besides, there's a sight of country between Santa Fé and civilization east of there which must be traveled some way. No, Cap', white men will shy this land for many a day, to my thinking. Durn sorry, too. Wish it wasn't so blame far from everywhere." "But men can come here by water," suggested Farquharson. "That depends where they start from. Quite a journey to here by water from Saint Louis, Missouri." "No farther than England is from California. Brown, it would not surprise me if, before many years, shiploads of people from England will be tilling farms right here in this Santa Clara valley." They were coming into the grounds of the Calderon hacienda. The white buildings gleamed in the morning light. The rolling hills formed a green background. Peons were going forth to the fields, at work in the gardens, or busy about their adobe cottages which nestled near the home of their master. "Stay by the horses, Brown, while I enter," said Farquharson. "Just as you say, Cap'." The Englishman sought the entrance of the mansion and inquired for Señora Valentino. "The señora met with an accident this morning," said one of the Señoritas Calderon who met him. "She is resting. Last night there was a baile at Señor Mendoza's, in Mission San José. She was there and has slept almost none till the present." "Was the accident serious?" solicitude in his voice. "Not serious, but painful." "If you announce that Captain Farquharson would like words with her, I am sure she will not feel herself disturbed. It is really of great importance that I see her."