nd the widow made the riffle finally," I protested.

"Yes, they did, and that's something to the good, but they never had
any children. Waited ten years after Annear was killed, and then got
married. That was one of Jean's matches. Tom, you must go over and see
Juana before you go. There was a match that I made. Just think of it,
they have eight children, and Fidel is prouder over them than I ever was
of this ranch. The natives have never disappointed me, but the Caucasian
seems to be played out."

I remained overnight at the ranch. After supper, sitting in his chair
before a cheerful fire, Uncle Lance dozed off to sleep, leaving his
sister and myself to entertain each other. I had little to say of my
past, and the future was not encouraging, except there was always work
to do. But Miss Jean unfolded like the pages of an absorbing chronicle,
and gave me the history of my old acquaintances in the valley. Only a
few of the girls had married. Frances Vaux, after flirting away her
youth, had taken the veil in one of the orders in her church. My old
sweetheart was contentedly living a life of seclusion on the ranch on
which she was born, apparently happy, but still interested in any word
of me in my wanderings. The young men of my acquaintance, except where
married, were scattered wide, the whereabouts of nearly all of them
unknown. Tony Hunter had held the McLeod estate together, and it had
prospered exceedingly under his management. My old friend, Red Earnest,
who outrode me in the relay race at the tournament in June, '77, was
married and serving in the Customs Service on the Rio Grande as a
mounted river guard.

The next morning, I made the round of the Mexican quarters, greeting my
old friends, before taking my leave and starting for the railroad.
The cottage which had been built for Esther and me stood vacant and
windowless, being used only for a storehouse for _zacahuiste_. As I rode
away, the sight oppressed me; it brought back the June time of my youth,
even the hour and instant in which our paths separated. On reaching the
last swell of ground, several miles from the ranch, which would give me
a glimpse of headquarters, I halted my horse in a farewell view. The
sleepy old ranch cosily nestled among the encinal oaks revived a
hundred memories, some sad, some happy, many of which have returned in
retrospect during lonely hours since.

***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TEXAS MATCHMAKER***

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