ce team, to reach the ranch in time for the funeral.
The services were conducted by a strange minister who happened to be
visiting in Oakville, but what impressed me in particular was the
solicitude of Miss Jean for the widow. She had been frequently
entertained at Las Palomas by its mistress, as the sweetheart of June
Deweese, though since her marriage to Annear a decided coolness had
existed between the two women. But in the present hour of trouble, the
past was forgotten and they mingled their tears like sisters.

On our return, which was to be by way of the Vauxes', I joined those
from the McLeod ranch, while Happersett and Cotton accompanied the
ambulance to the Vaux home. Nearly every one going our way was on
horseback, and when the cavalcade was some distance from Las Norias, my
sweetheart dropped to the rear for a confidential chat and told me that
a lawyer from Corpus Christi, an old friend of the family, had come
up for the purpose of taking the preliminary steps for securing her
freedom, and that she expected to be relieved of the odious tie which
bound her to Oxenford at the May term of court. This was pleasant news
to me, for there would then be no reason for delaying our marriage.

Happersett rode down to the San Miguel the next morning to inform Quayle
and myself that the mistress was then on the way to spend the night with
the widow Annear, and that the rest of us were to report at home the
following evening. She had apparently inspected the lines on the Frio,
and, finding everything favorable, turned to other fields. I was
disappointed, for Esther and I had planned to go up to the Vaux ranch
during the visit. Dan suggested that we ride home together by way of the
Vauxes'. But Quayle bitterly refused even to go near the ranch. He felt
very sore and revengeful over being jilted by Frances after she had let
him crown her Queen of the ball at the tournament dance. So, agreeing
to meet on the divide the next day for the ride back to Las Palomas, we
parted.

The next afternoon, on reaching the divide between the Frio and the home
river, Theodore and I scanned the horizon in vain for any horsemen. We
dismounted, and after waiting nearly an hour, descried two specks to the
northward which we knew must be our men. On coming up they also threw
themselves on the ground, and we indulged in a cigarette while we
compared notes. I had nothing to conceal, and frankly confessed that
Esther and I expected to marry duri