ed. "So that explains all," said he, "and my surmises regarding
Theodore were correct. I have no particular right to charge him with
ingratitude, and yet this ranch was as much his home as mine. He had the
same to eat, drink, and wear as I had, with none of the concern, and yet
he deserted me. I never spoke harshly to him but once, and now I wish I
had let him go with Captain Byler. That would have saved me Cotton and
the present disgrace to Las Palomas. I ought to have known that a good
honest boy like John would be putty in the hands of a fellow like
Theodore. But it's just like a fool boy to throw away his chances in
life. They still sell their birthright for a mess of pottage. And there
stands the empty cottage to remind me that I have something to learn.
Old as I am, my temper will sometimes get away from me. Tom, you are my
next hope, and I am almost afraid some unseen obstacle will arise as
this one did. Does Frances know the facts?" I answered that Hunter had
kept the facts to himself, not even acquainting his own people
with them, so that aside from myself he was the first to know the
particulars. After pacing the room for a time in meditation, Uncle Lance
finally halted and asked me if Scales would be a capable messenger to
carry the news to the Vaux family. I admitted that he was the most
tactful man on the ranch. Aaron was summoned, given the particulars, and
commanded to use the best diplomacy at his command in transmitting the
facts, and to withhold nothing; to express to the ranchman and his
family the deep humiliation every one at Las Palomas felt over the
actions of John Cotton.

Years afterward I met Quayle at a trail town in the north. In the
limited time at our command, the old days we spent together in the
Nueces valley occupied most of our conversation. Unmentioned by me, his
desertion of Las Palomas was introduced by himself, and in attempting to
apologize for his actions, he said:--

"Quirk, that was the only dirty act I was ever guilty of. I never want
to meet the people the trick was practiced on. Leaving Las Palomas was
as much my privilege as going there was. But I was unfortunate enough to
incur a few debts while living there that nothing but personal revenge
could ever repay. Had it been any other man than Lance Lovelace, he or I
would have died the morning Captain Byler's horse herd started from the
Nueces River. But he was an old man, and my hand was held and my tongue
was silent. You kn