“I think you are right,” admitted Don Andres after a minute.  “And your government also seems to believe it has come into possession of a wilderness, peopled only by savages who must give way to the march of civilization.  Whereas we Spaniards were in possession of the land while yet your colonies paid tribute to their king in England, and we ourselves have brought the savages to the ways of Christian people, and have for our reward the homes which we have built with much toil and some hardships, like yourselves when your colonies were young.  Twenty-one years have I looked upon this valley and called it mine, with the word of his Majesty for my authority!  And surely my right to it is as the right of your people to their haciendas in Virginia or Vermont.  Yet men will drive their prairie schooners to a spot which pleases them and say:  ‘Here, I will have this place for my home.’  That is not lawful, or right.”

Ten steps in the rear of them Teresita was laughing her mocking little laugh that still had in it a maddening note of tenderness.  Dade tried not to hear it; for so had she laughed at him, a week ago, and set his blood leaping towards his heart.  He was not skilled in the ways of women, yet he did not accuse her of deliberate coquetry, as a man is prone to do under the smart of a hurt like his; for he sensed dimly that it was but the seeking sex-instinct of healthy youth that brightened her eyes and sent the laugh to her lips when she faced a man who pleased her; and if she were fickle, it was with the instinctive fickleness of one who has not made final choice of a mate.  Hope lifted its head at that, but he crushed it sternly into the dust again; for the man who rode behind was his friend, whom he loved.

It is to be feared that the voice of the girl held more of his attention than the complaint of the don, just then, and that the sting of injustice under which Don Andres squirmed seemed less poignant and vital than the hurt he himself was bearing.  He answered him at random; and he might have betrayed his inattention if they had not at that moment caught sight of the interlopers.

Valencia had not borne false witness against them; the emigrants were indeed cutting down trees.  More, they were industriously hauling the logs to the immediate vicinity of their camp, which was chosen with an eye to many advantages; shade, water, a broad view of the valley and plenty of open grass land already fit for the plow, if to plow were their intention.

A loose-jointed giant of a man seated upon the load of logs which two yoke of great, meek-eyed oxen had just drawn up beside a waiting pile of their fellows, waited phlegmatically their approach.  A woman, all personality hidden beneath flapping calico and slat sunbonnet, climbed hastily down upon the farther side of the wagon and disappeared into the little tent that was simply the wagon-box with its canvas covering, placed upon the ground.

“Valencia told me truly.  Senor Hunter, will you speak for me?  Tell the big hombre that the land is mine.”