drifted to the Mexican element and their love for the land to which they
were born. Then I understood why I was driving four mules instead of
basking in the smiles of my own sweetheart on the San Miguel. Nor did
this boasting cease during the evening, but alternated from lands and
cattle to the native people, and finally centred about a Mexican girl
who had been so fortunate as to have been born to the soil of Las
Palomas.

When Don Alejandro asked for his horse the following morning on leaving,
Uncle Lance, Quayle, and myself formed a guard of honor to escort our
guest a distance on his way. He took leave of the mistress of Las
Palomas in an obeisance worthy of an old-time cavalier. Once we were
off, Uncle Lance pretended to have had a final interview with the
parents, in which they had insisted on the customary time in which to
consider the proposal. The _padrino_ graciously accepted the situation,
thanking his host for his interest in behalf of his nephew. On reaching
the river, where our ways separated, all halted for a few minutes at
parting.

"Well, Don Alejandro," said the old ranchero, "this is my limit of
escort to guests of the ranch. Now, the only hope I have in parting
is, in case the reply should he unfavorable, that Don Blas will not be
discouraged and that we may see you again at Las Palomas. Tender my
congratulations to your nephew, and tell him that a welcome always
awaits him in case he finds time and inclination to visit us. I take
some little interest in matches. These boys of mine are going north
to the Frio on a courting errand to-day. But our marriage customs are
inferior to yours, and our young people, left to themselves, don't seem
to marry. Don Alejandro, if you and I had the making of the matches,
there'd be a cradle rocking in every _jacal_." Both smiled, said their
"Adios, amigos," and he was gone.

As our guest cantered away, down the river road, Quayle and I began
looking for a ford. The river had been on a rampage, and while we were
seeking out a crossing our employer had time for a few comments. "The
Don's tickled with his prospects. He thinks he's got a half inch rope on
Juana right now; but if I thought your prospects were no better than I
know his are, you wouldn't tire any horse-flesh of mine by riding to the
Frio and the San Miguel. But go right on, and stay as long as you want
to, for I'm in no hurry to see your faces again. Tom, with the ice
broken as it is, as soon as Esther