"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."