They call me Antoine Amedo--did you ever hear of such an 'hombre ?' My ranche is just below the mission San Jose, and I have large flocks of sheep and cattle." "Antoine Amedo," repeated Dr.Bryant, musingly, and striving, through the gloom, to scan his features.

"You are right; I do not know you, though your voice is familiar." "If you have no objection, Senor Americano, I will let my horse picket awhile, and rest myself; for I have ridden many miles since sunrise, and not a blessed 'barego' have I smelled." "You are at liberty to rest as long as you please: consult your own inclinations." And he turned away to his own horse, yet marked that the newcomer dismounted with some difficulty.
He changed his own picket, that fresh grass might not be wanting; and returning to the tree, leaned against its huge body, and watched the movements of the intruder.

They were very slow, as if he were well-nigh spent with overexertion.

He took off his broad hat, smoothed his hair, then replaced it; adjusted his heavy blanket more comfortably, and drawing forth a sort of wallet, proceeded to satisfy the cravings of hunger.

He ate but little, and returning the bag or sack to its hiding-place in the broad girdle which was passed about his waist beneath the blanket, stretched himself on the ground, with not even a straggling bough between him and the deep blue vault of heaven.
No sound broke the silence, save the cropping of the horses as they grazed near; and, seeking again his grassy couch, Dr.Bryant closed his eyes, and communed with his own heart.