"I—see here—" ejaculated the astonished Missourian. "Why, I have to ride that nag to Monterey to-night!" alarm beginning to show in his face.
"The horse will be fed and cared for, Señor Brown," assured Mendoza.
"I'll see that you have a mount to Monterey." Then quickly: "You rode through the lower Santa Clara from Monterey to-day?"
"Sure, I did."
"Saw no signs of renegades?"
"Nary sign. Haven't seen a renegade since I swatted a bunch over last week."
The two went in the direction of the Mission lodge. Noting the erect figure and decisive step of the Californian, Brown squared his heavy shoulders and endeavored to walk in dignified fashion.
Mendoza said a few words to the lodge keeper. The gate opened noiselessly.
"Brown, you are to enter. When your business is over, come to my house. Do not start for Monterey until I see you again. Will you promise, my friend?" The señor held out his hand.
"All right. I don't know where my horse is anyhow. Besides, I'd enjoy to come in and set a spell." He administered several hearty handshakes.