“Wall, I ain’t got any horses, but I got two of the derndest mules you ever seen, mister.  Moll and Poll’s good as any mustang in this valley.  Mary and me can ride ’em anywheres; that’s why I brung ’em along, to ride in case we had to eat the cattle.”

“Then they must surely ride Moll and Poll to visit my mother!” the senorita declared with her customary decisiveness.  “Padre mio!”

Obediently the don accepted the responsibility laid upon him by his sole-born who ruled him without question, and made official the invitation.  It was not what he had expected to do; he was not quite sure that it was what he wanted to do; but he did it, and did it with the courtliness which would have flowered his invitation to the governor to honor his poor household by his presence; he did it because his daughter had glanced at him and said “My father?” in a certain tone which he knew well.

Something else was done, which no one had expected to do when the four galloped up to the trespassers.  Jack and Dade dismounted and helped Jerry unload the logs from the wagon, for one thing; while Teresita inspected Mrs. Jerry’s ingenious domestic makeshifts and managed somehow, with Mrs. Jerry’s help, to make the bond of mutual liking serve very well in the place of intelligible speech.  For another, the don fairly committed himself to the promise of a peon or two to help in the further devastation of the trees upon the Picardo mountain slope behind the little, natural meadow, which Jerry Simpson had so calmly appropriated to his own use.

“He is honest,” Don Andres asserted more than once on the ride home, perhaps in self-justification for his soft dealing.  “He is honest; and when he sees that the land is mine, he will pay; or if he does not pay, he will go—­and tilled acres and a cabin will not harm me.  Valencia, if he marries the daughter of Carlos (as the senora says will come to pass), will be glad to have a cabin to live in apart from the mother of his wife, who is a shrew and will be disquieting in any man’s household.  Therefore, Senor Hunter, you may order the peons to assist the big hombre and his beautiful senora, that they may soon have a hut to shelter them from the rains.  It is not good to see so gentle a woman endure hardship within my boundary.  Many tules, they will need,” he added after a minute, “and it is unlikely that the Senor Seem’son understands the making of a thatch.  Diego and Juan are skillful; and the tules they lay upon a roof will let no drop of rain fall within the room.  Order them to assist.”

“I shall tell Margarita to bake many little cakes,” cried Teresita, riding up between her father and Dade, that she might assist in the planning.  “And madre mia will give me coffee and sugar for the pretty senora.  So soft is her voice, like one of my pigeons!  And her hair is more beautiful than the golden hair of our Blessed Lady at Dolores.  Oh, if the Blessed Virgin would make me as beautiful as she, and as gentle, I should—­I should finish the altar cloth immediately, which I began two years ago!”