r pleasant to dwell upon.

"Why," demanded Jose bitterly, "should the Americanos presume to
question our right to our land? You and my father made the valley what
it is; your shiploads of hides and tallow that you sent from Yerba
Buena made the town prosper, and called adventurers this way; and now
they steal your cattle and lands, and their government is the biggest
thief of all, for it tells them to steal more. They will make you
poor, Don Andres, while you wait for them to be just. No, I permit
no 'prairie schooner' to stop, even that their oxen may drink. My
vaqueros ride beside them till they have crossed the boundary. You,
Don Andres, if you would permit your vaqueros to do likewise, instead
of shaking hands with the gringos and bidding them welcome--"

"But I do not permit it; nor do I seek counsel from the children I
have tossed on my foot to the tune of a nursery rhyme." He shook
his white-crowned head reprovingly. "He was always screaming at his
duenna, one child that I recollect," he smiled.

"Art thou scolding Jose again, my Andres? He loves to play that thou
and Teresita are children still, Jose; it serves to beguile him into
forgetting the years upon his head! Welcome, Senors. Teresita but told
me this moment that you had come. She is bringing the wine--"

On their feet they greeted the Senora Picardo. Like the don, her
husband, honest friendliness was in her voice, her smile, the warm
clasp of her plump hand. The sort of woman who will mother you at
sight, was the senora. Purple silk--hastily put on for the guests, one
might suspect--clothed her royally. Golden hoops hung from her ears,
a diamond brooch held together the lace beneath her cushiony chin; a
comfortable woman who smiled much, talked much and worried more lest
she leave some little thing undone for those about her.

"And this is the poor senor who was in such dreadful danger!" she
went on commiseratingly. "Ah, the wicked times that have come upon us!
Presently we shall fear to sleep in our beds--Senor Hunter, you have
been hurt! The mark of blood is on your sleeve, the stain is on your
side! A-ah, my poor friend! Come instantly and I will--"

"Gracias, Senora; it is nothing. Besides, Manuel put on a poultice of
herbs. It's only a scratch, but it bled a little while I rode to the
hut of Manuel." If blushes could have shown through the tan, Dade
might have looked as uncomfortable as he felt at that moment.

The senorita was already in the