ke that of a spring morning. Every one
felt like riding. While awaiting the arrival of saddle horses, the
extra help hired during the drouth was called in and settled with. Two
brothers, Fidel and Carlos Trujillo, begged for permanent employment.
They were promising young fellows, born on the Aransas River, and after
consulting with Deweese Uncle Lance took both into permanent service on
the ranch. A room in an outbuilding was allotted them, and they were
instructed to get their meals in the kitchen. The _remudas_ had wandered
far, but one was finally brought in by a vaquero, and by pairs we
mounted and rode away. On starting, the tanks demanded our first
attention, and finding all four of them safe, we threw out of gear all
the windmills. Theodore Quayle and I were partners during the day's ride
to the south, and on coming in at evening fell in with Uncle Lance and
our _segundo_, who had been as far west as the Ganso. Quayle and I had
discussed during the day the prospect of a hunt at the Vaux ranch, and
on meeting our employer, artfully interested the old ranchero regarding
the amount of cat sign seen that day along the Arroyo Sordo.

"It's hard luck, boys," said he, "to find ourselves afoot, and the
hunting so promising. But we haven't a horse on the ranch that could
carry a man ten miles in a straightaway dash after the hounds. It will
be a month yet before the grass has substance enough in it to strengthen
our _remudas_. Oh, if it hadn't been for the condition of saddle stock,
Don Pierre would have come right through the rain yesterday. But when
Las Palomas can't follow the hounds for lack of mounts, you can depend
on it that other ranches can't either. It just makes me sick to think of
this good hunting, but what can we do for a month but fold our hands and
sit down? But if you boys are itching for an excuse to get over on the
Frio, why, I'll make you a good one. This drouth has knocked all the
sociability out of the country; but now the ordeal is past, Theodore is
in honor bound to go over to the Vaux ranch. I don't suppose you boys
have seen the girls on the Frio and San Miguel in six months. Time?
That's about all we have got right now. Time?--we've got time to burn."

Our feeler had borne fruit. An excuse or permission to go to the Frio
was what Quayle and I were after, though no doubt the old matchmaker was
equally anxious to have us go. In expressing our thanks for the promised
vacation, we included several