r, but feeling a certain sympathy
with the Frenchman, had tried not to annoy him with his irritability.

"He's a regular pearl, this Frenchy," said the plainsman as though
trying to excuse himself for his considerate treatment of his latest
acquisition. "I like him because he is very serious. . . . That is the
way I like a man."

Desnoyers did not know exactly what this much-admired seriousness could
be, but he felt a secret pride in seeing him aggressive with everybody
else, even his family, whilst he took with him a tone of paternal
bluffness.

The family consisted of his wife Misia Petrona (whom he always called
the China) and two grown daughters who had gone to school in Buenos
Aires, but on returning to the ranch had reverted somewhat to their
original rusticity.

Madariaga's fortune was enormous. He had lived in the field since his
arrival in America, when the white race had not dared to settle outside
the towns for fear of the Indians. He had gained his first money as a
fearless trader, taking merchandise in a cart from fort to fort. He had
killed Indians, was twice wounded by them, and for a while had lived as
a captive with an Indian chief whom he finally succeeded in making his
staunch friend. With his earnings, he had bought land, much land, almost
worthless because of its insecurity, devoting it to the raising of
cattle that he had to defend, gun in hand, from the pirates of the
plains.

Then he had married his China, a young half-breed who was running around
barefoot, but owned many of her forefathers' fields. They had lived in
an almost savage poverty on their property which would have taken many a
day's journey to go around. Afterwards, when the government was pushing
the Indians towards the frontiers, and offering the abandoned lands
for sale, considering it a patriotic sacrifice on the part of any one
wishing to acquire them, Madariaga bought and bought at the lowest
figure and longest terms. To get possession of vast tracts and populate
it with blooded stock became the mission of his life. At times,
galloping with Desnoyers through his boundless fields, he was not able
to repress his pride.

"Tell me something, Frenchy! They say that further up the country, there
are some nations about the size of my ranches. Is that so?" . . .

The Frenchman agreed. . . . The lands of Madariaga were indeed greater
than many principalities. This put the old plainsman in rare good humor
and he exclaimed in the