Adios." "You are travelling to-day, senor ?" "A little turn through the country, to get the kinks out of the muscles," Presley answered.

"I go up into the Quien Sabe, into the high country beyond the Mission." "Ah, the Quien Sabe rancho.

The sheep are grazing there this week." Solotari, the keeper of the restaurant, explained: "Young Annixter sold his wheat stubble on the ground to the sheep raisers off yonder;" he motioned eastward toward the Sierra foothills.
"Since Sunday the herd has been down.

Very clever, that young Annixter.
He gets a price for his stubble, which else he would have to burn, and also manures his land as the sheep move from place to place.

A true Yankee, that Annixter, a good gringo." After his meal, Presley once more mounted his bicycle, and leaving the restaurant and the Plaza behind him, held on through the main street of the drowsing town--the street that farther on developed into the road which turned abruptly northward and led onward through the hop-fields and the Quien Sabe ranch toward the Mission of San Juan.
The Home ranch of the Quien Sabe was in the little triangle bounded on the south by the railroad, on the northwest by Broderson Creek, and on the east by the hop fields and the Mission lands.