ould be held within reach of our
ranch, for I had heard a great deal about them and was anxious to see
one. But this was only one of several social outings which she outlined
as on her summer programme, to all of which I was cordially invited as
a member of her party. There was to be a dance on St. John's Day at the
Mission, a barbecue in June on the San Miguel, and other local meets for
the summer and early fall. By the time we reached the ranch, I was just
beginning to realize that, socially, Shepherd's Ferry and the Nueces was
a poky place.

The next morning I returned to Las Palomas. The horse-breaking was
nearing an end. During the month of May we went into camp on a new tract
of land which had been recently acquired, to build a tank on a dry
_arroyo_ which crossed this last landed addition to the ranch. It was a
commercial peculiarity of Uncle Lance to acquire land but never to part
with it under any consideration. To a certain extent, cows and land had
become his religion, and whenever either, adjoining Las Palomas, was for
sale, they were looked upon as a safe bank of deposit for any surplus
funds. The last tract thus secured was dry, but by damming the _arroyo_
we could store water in this tank or reservoir to tide over the
dry spells. All the Mexican help on the ranch was put to work with
wheelbarrows, while six mule teams ploughed, scraped, and hauled rock,
one four-mule team being constantly employed in hauling water over ten
miles for camp and stock purposes. This dry stream ran water, when
conditions were favorable, several months in the year, and by building
the tank our cattle capacity would be largely increased.

One evening, late in the month, when the water wagon returned, Tiburcio
brought a request from Miss Jean, asking me to come into the ranch that
night. Responding to the summons, I was rewarded by finding a letter
awaiting me from Frances Vaux, left by a vaquero passing from the Frio
to Santa Maria. It was a dainty missive, informing me that Esther was
her guest; that the tournament would not take place, but to be sure and
come over on Sunday. Personally the note was satisfactory, but that I
was to bring any one along was artfully omitted. Being thus forced to
read between the lines, on my return to camp the next morning by dawn,
without a word of explanation, I submitted the matter to John and
Theodore. Uncle Lance, of course, had to know what had called me in to
the ranch, and, taking the let