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occasional storm…stayed tenant from Fair Plains； Clarence might
have； at such times； questioned the effect of this seclusion upon
his impassioned nature。 But he had already been accustomed to
monastic seclusion in his boyish life at El Refugio； and he did not
reflect that； for that very reason； its indulgences might have been
dangerous。 From time to time letters reached him from the outer
world of San Francisco；a few pleasant lines from Mrs。 Peyton； in
answer to his own chronicle of his half stewardship； giving the news
of the family； and briefly recounting their movements。 She was
afraid that Susy's sensitive nature chafed under the restriction of
mourning in the gay city； but she trusted to bring her back for a
change to Robles when the rains were over。 This was a poor
substitute for those brief； happy glimpses of the home circle which
had so charmed him； but he accepted it stoically。 He wandered over
the old house； from which the perfume of domesticity seemed to have
evaporated； yet； notwithstanding Mrs。 Peyton's playful permission；
he never intruded upon the sanctity of the boudoir； and kept it
jealously locked。
He was sitting in Peyton's business room one morning； when
Incarnacion entered。 Clarence had taken a fancy to this Indian；
half steward； half vacquero； who had reciprocated it with a certain
dog…like fidelity； but also a feline indirectness that was part of
his nature。 He had been early prepossessed with Clarence through a
kinsman at El Refugio； where the young American's generosity had
left a romantic record among the common people。 He had been pleased
to approve of his follies before the knowledge of his profitless and
lordly land purchase had commended itself to him as corroborative
testimony。 〃Of true hidalgo blood； mark you；〃 he had said
oracularly。 〃Wherefore was his father sacrificed by mongrels！ As
to the others； believe me；bah！〃
He stood there； sombrero in hand； murky and confidential； steaming
through his soaked serape and exhaling a blended odor of equine
perspiration and cigarette smoke。
〃It was； perhaps； as the master had noticed； a brigand's own day！
Bullying； treacherous； and wicked！ It blew you off your horse if
you so much as lifted your arms and let the wind get inside your
serape； and as for the mud；caramba！ in fifty varas your forelegs
were like bears； and your hoofs were earthen plasters！〃
Clarence knew that Incarnacion had not sought him with mere
meteorological information； and patiently awaited further
developments。 The vacquero went on：
〃But one of the things this beast of a weather did was to wash down
the stalks of the grain； and to clear out the trough and hollows
between； and to make level the fields； andlook you！ to uncover the
stones and rubbish and whatever the summer dust had buried。 Indeed；
it was even as a miracle that Jose Mendez one day； after the first
showers； came upon a silver button from his calzas； which he had
lost in the early summer。 And it was only that morning that；
remembering how much and with what fire Don Clarencio had sought the
missing boot from the foot of the Senor Peyton when his body was
found； he； Incarnacion； had thought he would look for it on the
falda of the second terrace。 And behold； Mother of God it was
there！ Soaked with mud and rain； but the same as when the senor was
alive。 To the very spur！〃
He drew the boot from beneath his serape and laid it before
Clarence。 The young man instantly recognized it； in spite of its
weather…beaten condition and its air of grotesque and drunken
inconsistency to the usually trim and correct appearance of Peyton
when alive。 〃It is the same；〃 he said； in a low voice。
〃Good！〃 said Incarnacion。 〃Now； if Don Clarencio will examine the
American spur； he will seewhat？ A few horse…hairs twisted and
caught in the sharp points of the rowel。 Good！ Is it the hair of
the horse that Senor rode？ Clearly not； and in truth not。 It is
too long for the flanks and belly of the horse； it is not the same
color as the tail and the mane。 How comes it there？ It comes from
the twisted horsehair rope of a riata； and not from the braided
cowhide thongs of the regular lasso of a vacquero。 The lasso slips
not much； but holds； the riata slips much and strangles。〃
〃But Mr。 Peyton was not strangled；〃 said Clarence quickly。
〃No； for the noose of the riata was perhaps large；who knows？ It
might have slipped down his arms； pinioned him； and pulled him off。
Truly！such has been known before。 Then on the ground it slipped
again； or he perhaps worked it off to his feet where it caught on
his spur； and then he was dragged until the boot came off； and
behold！ he was dead。〃
This had been Clarence's own theory of the murder； but he had only
half confided it to Incarnacion。 He silently examined the spur with
the accusing horse…hair； and placed it in his desk。 Incarnacion
continued：
〃There is not a vacquero in the whole rancho who has a horse…hair
riata。 We use the braided cowhide； it is heavier and stronger； it
is for the bull and not the man。 The horse…hair riata comes from
over the rangesouth。〃
There was a dead silence； broken only by the drumming of the rain
upon the roof of the veranda。 Incarnacion slightly shrugged his
shoulders。
〃Don Clarencio does not know the southern county？ Francisco Robles；
cousin of the 'Sisters；'he they call 'Pancho；'comes from the
south。 Surely when Don Clarencio bought the title he saw Francisco；
for he was the steward？〃
〃I dealt only with the actual owners and through my bankers in San
Francisco；〃 returned Clarence abstractedly。
Incarnacion looked through the yellow corners of his murky eyes at
his master。
〃Pedro Valdez； who was sent away by Senor Peyton； is the foster…
brother of Francisco。 They were much together。 Now that Francisco
is rich from the gold Don Clarencio paid for the title； they come
not much together。 But Pedro is rich； too。 Mother of God！ He
gambles and is a fine gentleman。 He holds his head high；even over
the Americanos he gambles with。 Truly； they say he can shoot with
the best of them。 He boasts and swells himself； this Pedro！ He
says if all the old families were like him； they would drive those
western swine back over the mountains again。〃
Clarence raised his eyes； caught a subtle yellow flash from
Incarnacion's； gazed at him suddenly； and rose。
〃I don't think I have ever seen him；〃 he said quietly。 〃Thank you
for bringing me the spur。 But keep the knowledge of it to yourself；
good Nascio； for the present。〃
Nascio nevertheless still lingered。 Perceiving which； Clarence
handed him a cigarette and proceeded to light one himself。 He knew
that the vacquero would reroll his； and that that always deliberate
occupation would cover and be an excuse for further confidence。
〃The Senora Peyton does not perhaps meet this Pedro in the society
of San Francisco？〃