“Sounds quite epicurean,” interrupted Grace, tossing away the card she had been pretending to examine.
“Yes, hang it all—just the little delicacies Dick used to like.”
“I never knew you fared so bountifully at San Antonio Rancho,” remarked Merle with a smile.
“Oh, Dick’s no candy kid, as you know well,” replied Munson. “It was mostly rough and ready fare all right, but Sing Ling had a knack of adding a few dainty trifles to our meals, and it strikes me that for the purposes of this mysterious and capacious lunch basket he is trying to excel himself.”
“No doubt it goes to Mr. Willoughby,” said Merle. “Well, I’m real glad to know that they are making him comfortable.”
“I guess, though, he’ll miss his occasional visits to La Siesta. Mr. Robles says you were quite right, Miss Merle. Dick is in real danger. Those gunmen of old Thurston have orders to shoot him on sight.”
“I knew it,” exclaimed Merle. “Oh, I’m so thankful he got away. Even though we miss seeing him, he must never run such a risk again.”
“It is all very mysterious,” said Munson, in a musing tone. “And I had no idea, too, that this was such a lovely place. Mr. Robles has taken me around several times. He has the choicest dairy cattle, the finest blooded horses, rare trees and plants from every corner of the world.”
“These are his hobbies,” commented Merle.
“He says he wants to give me some practical lessons in estate management.”