"
"I think I will be able to explain myself much better with simple pen
and ink," she said dryly, "and it will be much more useful to you."
He lifted his hat gravely, shoved off the boat, leaped into it, and
before she could hold out her hand was twenty feet away. She turned and
ran quickly up the rocks. When she reached the hotel, she could see the
boat already half across the bay.
Entering her sitting-room she found that her brother, tired of waiting
for her, had driven out. Taking the hidden manuscript from her cloak
she tossed it with a slight gesture of impatience on the table. Then she
summoned the landlord.
"Is there a town across the bay?"
"No! the whole mountain-side belongs to Don Diego Fletcher. He lives
away back in the coast range at Los Gatos, but he has a cottage and mill
on the beach."
"Don Diego Fletcher--Fletcher! Is he a Spaniard then?"
"Half and half, I reckon; he's from the lower country, I believe."
"Is he here often?"
"Not much; he has mills at Los Gatos, wheat ranches at Santa Clara, and
owns a newspaper in 'Frisco! But he's here now. There were lights in his
house last night, and his cutter lies off the point."
"Could you get a small package and note to him?"
"Certainly; it is only a row across the bay."
"Thank you."
Without removing her hat and cloak she sat down at the table and began a
letter to Don Diego Fletcher.
Pages:
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217