Hill's cross eyes blinked.
"It was the way I come at him," said he. "I been thinkin' since. There was a hull lot of excitement, and I'll gamble dad didn't have time to get the run o' what was happenin'. He didn't have no good chance to be affectionate."
"I suppose not," returned Clancy, trying hard to keep a straight face. "The trail seems to be a pretty warm one, all right, and— Where are you going?"
Clancy broke off his remarks to grab hold of Hiram and restrain him. The tow-headed chap had suddenly leaped out of his chair like a restive wild cat.
"Ain't that dad over yonder?" he asked. "I see a feller that seems to be built on the same lines of the photograft, but–n-n-no," he finished musingly, "that feller's a Mexican."
"Letter for you, Mr. Hill," said a bell boy, coming across the lobby from the clerk's desk.
Hill took the letter wonderingly, stared at it, tore it open, and then sank into a chair while he read the communication. Presently he began to breathe hard, and to gurgle in his throat.
"I knew the old man didn't have a marble heart," he muttered joyfully. "I reckoned he'd come around, if I'd only give him time enough. The trail's a short one, Clancy, and it leads to San Diego instead of to Catalina. There," and he thrust the letter into the motor wizard's hand, "read that."
CHAPTER V.