sly to nod and peer and preen over the delights of the valley
just below. The lupines were shaking their blue heads distressfully at
the impertinence; and then here came the vaqueros galloping, and even
the lupines and poppies forgot their dispute in the excitement of
watching the fun.

As the roundups of our modern cattlemen "ride circle," so did those
velvet-jacketed, silver-braided horsemen gallop forth in pairs from a
common center that was the chosen rodeo ground. As if they were tracing
the invisible spokes of a huge wheel laid flat and filling the valley
from mountain range to mountain range, they rode out until they had
reached the approximate rim of the circle. Then, turning, they rode more
slowly back to the rodeo ground, driving before them the cattle they
found there.

Not cattle only; here and there an antelope herd was caught in the
circle and ran bewilderedly toward the common center; beautiful
creatures with great eyes beseeching the human things to be kind, even
while riatas were hissing over their trembling backs. Many a rider rode
into camp with an antelope haunch tied to his gorgeous red and black
saddle; and the wooden spits held delicious bits of antelope steak that
night, broiling over the coals while the vaqueros sang old Spanish
love-songs to lighten the time of waiting.

A gallant company, they. A care-free, laughter-loving, brave company,
with every man a rider to make his womenfolk prate of his skill to all
who would listen; with every man a lover of love and of life and the
primitive joys of life. They worked, that company, and they made of
their work a game that every man of them loved to play. And Dade, loving
the things they loved and living the life they lived, speedily forgot
that there was still an undercurrent of antagonism beneath that surface
of work and play and jokes and songs and impromptu riding and roping
contests (from which Jose Pacheco was laughingly barred because of his
skill and in which Dade himself was, somehow, never invited to join). He
forgot that the antagonism was there--except when he came face to face
with Manuel, perhaps, or when he chanced to see on the face of Jose a
brooding look of dissatisfaction, and guessed that he was thinking of
Jack and Teresita.

CHAPTER XVI

"FOR WEAPONS I CHOOSE RIATAS"

There must have been a good deal of gossip amongst the vaqueros of the
various ranches, as they rode on circle or lay upon their saddle
blankets aro