ou not to dance, speak to, or even notice
her on this occasion. The chances are that that locoed fool will come
heeled this time, and if you give him any excuse, he may burn a little
powder."

June promised to keep on his good behavior, saying: "That's just what
I've made up my mind to do. But look'ee here: Suppose he goes on the war
path, you can't expect me to show the white feather, nor let him run any
sandys over me. I loved his wife once and am not ashamed of it, and he
knows it. And much as I want to obey you, Uncle Lance, if he attempts to
stand up a bluff on me, just as sure as hell's hot there'll be a strange
face or two in heaven."

I was a new man on the ranch and unacquainted with the facts, so shortly
afterwards I managed to drop to the rear with Dan Happersett, and got
the particulars. It seems that June and Mrs. Annear had not only been
sweethearts, but that they had been engaged, and that the engagement had
been broken within a month of the day set for their wedding, and that
she had married Annear on a three weeks' acquaintance. Little wonder
Uncle Lance took occasion to read the riot act to his _segundo_ in the
interests of peace. This was all news to me, but secretly I wished June
courage and a good aim if it ever came to a show-down between them.

We reached the Arroyo Seco by high noon, and found the ambulance in camp
and the coffee pot boiling. Under the direction of Miss Jean, Tiburcio
had removed the seats from the conveyance, so as to afford seating
capacity for over half our number. The lunch was spread under an old
live-oak on the bank of the Nueces, making a cosy camp. Miss Jean had
the happy knack of a good hostess, our twenty-mile ride had whetted
our appetites, and we did ample justice to her tempting spread. After
luncheon was over and while the team was being harnessed in, I noticed
Miss Jean enticing Deweese off on one side, where the two held a
whispered conversation, seated on an old fallen tree. As they returned,
June was promising something which she had asked of him. And if
there was ever a woman lived who could exact a promise that would be
respected, Jean Lovelace was that woman; for she was like an elder
sister to us all.

In starting, the ambulance took the lead as before, and near the middle
of the afternoon we reached the ferry. The merry-makers were assembling
from every quarter, and on our arrival possibly a hundred had come,
which number was doubled by the time the fes