hip. We could quarry the rock
during idle time, and burn our own lime right here on the ranch. While
you are here, give me some plans, and we'll show you that the white
element of Las Palomas are not such hopeless heretics as you suppose.
Now, if we build the chapel, I'm just going to ask one favor in return:
I expect to die and be buried on this ranch. You're a younger man by
twenty years and will outlive me, and on the day of my burial I want
you to lay aside your creed and preach my funeral in this little chapel
which you and I are going to build. I have been a witness to the
self-sacrifice of you and other priests ever since I lived here.
Father, I like an honest man, and the earnestness of your cloth for the
betterment of my people no one can question. And my covenant is, that
you are to preach a simple sermon, merely commemorating the fact that
here lived a man named Lovelace, who died and would be seen among his
fellow men no more. These being facts, you can mention them; but beyond
that, for fear our faiths might differ, the less said the better. Won't
you have another mint julep before supper? No? You will, won't you, Don
Blas?"

That the old ranchero was in earnest about building a chapel on Las
Palomas there was no doubt. In fact, the credit should be given to Miss
Jean, for she had been urging the matter ever since my coming to the
ranch. At headquarters and outlying ranchitas on the land, there were
nearly twenty families, or over a hundred persons of all ages. But that
the old matchmaker was going to make the most out of his opportunity by
erecting the building at an opportune time, there was not the shadow of
a question.

The evening passed without mention of the real errand of our guests. The
conversation was allowed to wander at will, during which several times
it drifted into gentle repartee between host and padre, both artfully
avoiding the rock of matchmaking. But the next morning, as if anxious to
begin the day's work early, Father Norquin, on arising, inquired for
his host, strutted out to the corrals, and, on meeting him, promptly
inquired why, during the previous summer, Don Alejandro Travino's
mission to obtain the hand of Juana Leal had failed.

"That's so," assented Uncle Lance, very affably, "Don Alejandro was here
as godfather to his nephew. And this young man with you is Don Blas,
the bear? Well, why did we waste so much time last night talking about
chapels and death when we might have