ellow looks out of
the corner of his eye now at a critter, they imagine he wants to steal
it. Oh, I know them; and the bigger rustlers they were themselves on the
open range, the bitterer their persecution of the man who follows their
example."

June Deweese was then the active manager of the ranch, and after
securing a classification of their salable stock, I made out a
memorandum and secured authority in writing, to sell their holdings at
prevailing prices for Nueces river cattle. The remainder of the day was
spent with my old friends in a social visit, and as we delved into the
musty past, the old man's love of the land and his matchmaking instincts
constantly cropped out.

"Tom," said he, in answer to a remark of mine, "I was an awful fool to
think my experience could be of any use to you boys. Every last rascal
of you went off on the trail and left me here with a big ranch to
handle. Gallup was no better than the rest, for he kept Jule Wilson
waiting until now she's an old maid. Sis, here, always called Scales a
vagabond, but I still believe something could have been made of him with
a little encouragement. But when the exodus of the cattle to the north
was at its height, he went off with a trail herd just like the rest of
you. Then he followed the trail towns as a gambler, saved money, and
after the cattle driving ended, married an adventuress, and that's the
end of him. The lack of a market was one of the great drawbacks to
ranching, but when the trail took every hoof we could breed and every
horse we could spare, it also took my boys. Tom, when you get old,
you'll understand that all is vanity and vexation of spirit. But I am
perfectly resigned now. In my will, Las Palomas and everything I have
goes to Jean. She can dispose of it as she sees fit, and if I knew she
was going to leave it to Father Norquin or his successor, my finger
wouldn't be raised to stop it. I spent a lifetime of hard work acquiring
this land, and now that there is no one to care for the old ranch, I
wash my hands of it."

Knowing the lifetime of self-sacrifice in securing the land of Las
Palomas, I sympathized with the old ranchero in his despondency.

"I never blamed you much, Tom," he resumed after a silence; "but
there's something about cattle life which I can't explain. It seems to
disqualify a man for ever making a good citizen afterward. He roams and
runs around, wasting his youth, and gets so foxy he never marries."

"But June a