after making everything secure, saddled our horses and set out for home, taking our relay mounts with us.  It was fifteen miles to the ranch and in the eye of the storm; but the loose horses faced the rain as if they enjoyed it, while those under saddle followed the free ones as a hound does a scent.  Within two hours after leaving the well, we reined in at the gate, and I saw Uncle Lance and a number of the boys promenading the gallery.  But the old ranchero leisurely walked down the pathway to the gate, and amid the downpour shouted to us:  “Turn those horses loose; this ranch is going to take a month’s holiday.”

CHAPTER XV

IN COMMEMORATION

A heavy rainfall continued the greater portion of two days.  None of us ventured away from the house until the weather settled, and meantime I played the fiddle almost continuously.  Night work and coarse living in camps had prepared us to enjoy the comforts of a house, as well as to do justice to the well-laden table.  Miss Jean prided herself, on special occasions and when the ranch had company, on good dinners; but in commemoration of the breaking of this drouth, with none but us boys to share it, she spread a continual feast.  The Mexican contingent were not forgotten by master or mistress, and the ranch supplies in the warehouse were drawn upon, delicacies as well as staples, not only for the jacals about headquarters but also for the outlying ranchitas.  The native element had worked faithfully during the two years in which no rain to speak of had fallen, until the breaking hour, and were not forgotten in the hour of deliverance.  Even the stranger vaqueros were compelled to share the hospitality of Las Palomas like invited guests.

While the rain continued falling, Uncle Lance paced the gallery almost night and day.  Fearful lest the downpour might stop, he stood guard, noting every change in the rainfall, barely taking time to eat or catch an hour’s sleep.  But when the grateful rain had continued until the evening of the second day, assuring a bountiful supply of water all over our range, he joined us at supper, exultant as a youth of twenty.  “Boys,” said he, “this has been a grand rain.  If our tanks hold, we will be independent for the next eighteen months, and if not another drop falls, the river ought to flow for a year.  I have seen worse drouths since I lived here, but what hurt us now was the amount of cattle and the heavy drift which flooded down on us from up the river and north on the Frio.  The loss is nothing; we won’t notice it in another year.  I have kept a close tally of the hides taken, and our brand will be short about two thousand, or less than ten per cent of our total numbers.  They were principally old cows and will not be missed.  The calf crop this fall will be short, but taking it up one side and down the other, we got off lucky.”