"No Frenchman of the Comte de Bourgueil's position and rank--he is a godson, you know, of the Comte de Chambord--would come to California without my knowledge," said the Consul.
The day after our return to the ranch we rode over to see how the Baron fared. We found him in a tent pitched as far as possible from the evil-smelling lake. Passing the bungalow, we had noted that six weeks' uninterrupted sunshine had played havoc with the Baron's garden. The man himself, moreover, seemed to have wilted. The sun had sucked the colour from his eyes and cheeks. Of a sudden, old age had overtaken him.
He greeted us with his usual courtesy, and asked if we had enjoyed our holiday. We told him many things about Del Monte, but we didn't mention the French Consul. Then, in our turn, we begged for such news as he might have. He replied solemnly--
"I speak no more wiz ze Dumbles. Old man Dumble ees a fraud. Moi, I abominate frauds--hein? He obtain my money onder false pretences, is it not so? Ah, yes; but I forgive 'im, because he is poor. But also, since you go, he obtain my secret--I haf a secret-- under false pretences. Oh, ze canaille! I tell 'im that if 'e were my equal I would wiz my sword s-spit 'im. Because 'e is canaille I s-s-spit at 'im. Voilà!"
The old fellow was trembling with rage and indignation. Ajax said gravely--
"We foreigners mustn't spit at free-born American citizens. What spitting is done here, they do themselves."
"You have right. Ze canaille say to me, to me, 'Come,' he say, 'come, Baron, I have one six-shooter, one shot-gun, two pitchfork, three spade, and one mowing-machine. Take your choice,' he say, 'and we can fight till ze cows come home!' He use zose words, mes amis, 'till ze cows come home!' Tiens! Ze Frisian- Holstein cows, who go dry when zey do come home--hein?"
He was so furiously angry that we dared not laugh, but we were consumed with curiosity to know what secret Dumble had stolen. The Baron did not inform us.
Fortunately for our peace of mind, Dumble came to us early next morning. He went to the marrow of the matter at once.
"Boys," said he, "I want you to fix up things between me an' that crazy Frenchman. How's that? Your friend. Wal, he is a Frenchy, an' he's crazy, as I'm prepared to prove. But I don't want no trouble with him. He's my neighbour, and there ought to be nothin' between me an' him."