"By the way," Parker continued, with a deprecatory smile, "I haven't
entered suit against you in the matter of that foreclosure. I didn't
desire to annoy you while you were in hospital and you've been busy on
the range ever since. When can I induce you to submit to a
process-server?"

"This afternoon will suit me, Mr. Parker."

"I'll gladly wait awhile longer, if you can give me any tangible
assurance of your ability to meet the mortgage."

"I cannot do that to-day, sir, although I may be able to do so if you
will defer action for three days."

Parker nodded and the conversation languished. The car had climbed out
of the San Gregorio and was mounting swiftly along the route to La
Questa, affording to the Parkers a panorama of mountain, hill, valley
and sea so startling in its vastness and its rugged beauty that Don
Mike realized his guests had been silenced as much by awe as by their
desire to avoid a painful and unprofitable conversation.

Suddenly they swung wide around a turn and saw, two thousand feet below
them, La Questa Valley. The chauffeur parked the car on the outside of
the turn to give his passengers a long, unobstructed view.

"Looks like a green checker-board with tiny squares," Parker remarked
presently.

"Little Japanese farms."