daughter, clasping
each others' hands in the presence of poor China who is blinded in her
judgment? . . . It's not such a bad stroke, Frenchy. By it, you would be
able to get possession of half of the old Spaniard's dollars, and then
say that you had made it in America."

And while he was storming, or rather howling, all this, he had grasped
his lash and with the butt end kept poking his manager in the stomach
with such insistence that it might be construed in an affectionate or
hostile way.

"For this reason I have come to bid you good-bye," said Desnoyers
haughtily. "I know that my love is absurd, and I wish to leave."

"The gentleman would go away," the ranchman continued spluttering. "The
gentleman believes that here one can do what one pleases! No, siree!
Here nobody commands but old Madariaga, and I order you to stay. . . .
Ah, these women! They only serve to antagonize men. And yet we can't
live without them!" . . .

He took several turns up and down the room, as though his last words
were making him think of something very different from what he had just
been saying. Desnoyers looked uneasily at the thong which was still
hanging from his wrist. Suppose he should attempt to whip him as he did
the peons? . . . He was still undecided whether to hold his own against
a man who had always treated him with benevolence or, while his back
was turned, to take refuge in discreet flight, when the ranchman planted
himself before him.

"You really love her, really?" he asked. "Are you sure that she loves
you? Be careful what you say, for love is blind and deceitful. I, too,
when I married my China was crazy about her. Do you love her, honestly
and truly? . . . Well then, take her, you devilish Frenchy. Somebody has
to take her, and may she not turn out a weak cow like her mother! . . .
Let us have the ranch full of grandchildren!"

In voicing this stock-raiser's wish, again appeared the great breeder of
beasts and men. And as though he considered it necessary to explain his
concession, he added--"I do all this because I like you; and I like you
because you are serious."

Again the Frenchman was plunged in doubt, not knowing in just what this
greatly appreciated seriousness consisted.

At his wedding, Desnoyers thought much of his mother. If only the poor
old woman could witness this extraordinary stroke of good fortune! But
she had died the year before, believing her son enormously rich because
he had been sending h