lroad connecting the Missouri River with the Pacific
Ocean. Felix told me this only a few years ago. But he said that all
the teamsters made the prediction a byword. When, crossing some of the
mountain ranges, the train halted to let the oxen blow, one bull-whacker
would say to another: 'Well, I'd like to see old Tom Benton get
his railroad over _this_ mountain.' When Felix told me this he
said--'There's a railroad to-day crosses those same mountain passes over
which we forty-niners whacked our bulls. And to think I was a grown man
and had no more sense or foresight than a little baby blinkin' its eyes
in the sun.'"

With years at Las Palomas, I learned to like the old ranchero. There was
something of the strong, primitive man about him which compelled a
youth of my years to listen to his counsel. His confidence in me was a
compliment which I appreciate to this day. When I had been in his employ
hardly two years, an incident occurred which, though only one of many
similar acts cementing our long friendship, tested his trust.

One morning just as he was on the point of starting on horseback to
the county seat to pay his taxes, a Mexican arrived at the ranch and
announced that he had seen a large band of _javalina_ on the border of
the chaparral up the river. Uncle Lance had promised his taxes by a
certain date, but he was a true sportsman and owned a fine pack of
hounds; moreover, the peccary is a migratory animal and does not wait
upon the pleasure of the hunter. As I rode out from the corrals to learn
what had brought the vaquero with such haste, the old ranchero cried,
"Here, Tom, you'll have to go to the county seat. Buckle this money belt
under your shirt, and if you lack enough gold to cover the taxes, you'll
find silver here in my saddle-bags. Blow the horn, boys, and get the
guns. Lead the way, Pancho. And say, Tom, better leave the road after
crossing the Sordo, and strike through that mesquite country," he called
back as he swung into the saddle and started, leaving me a sixty-mile
ride in his stead. His warning to leave the road after crossing the
creek was timely, for a ranchman had been robbed by bandits on that road
the month before. But I made the ride in safety before sunset, paying
the taxes, amounting to over a thousand dollars.

During all our acquaintance, extending over a period of twenty years,
Lance Lovelace was a constant revelation to me, for he was original in
all things. Knowing no precedent,