On resuming work, we spent six weeks baling hides, thus occupying our time until the beginning of the branding season.  A general round-up of the Nueces valley, commencing on the coast at Corpus Christi Bay, had been agreed upon among the cowmen of the country.  In pursuance of the plan four well-mounted men were sent from our ranch with Wilson’s wagon to the coast, our segundo following a week later with the wagon, remuda and twelve men, to meet the rodeo at San Patricio as they worked up the river.  Our cattle had drifted in every direction during the drouth and though many of them had returned since the range had again become good, they were still widely scattered.  So Uncle Lance took the rest of us and started for the Frio, working down that river and along the Nueces, until we met the round-up coming up from below.  During this cow hunt, I carried my fiddle with me in the wagon, and at nearly every ranch we passed we stopped and had a dance.  Not over once a week did we send in cattle to the ranch to brand, and on meeting the rodeo from below, Deweese had over three thousand of our cattle.  After taking these in and branding the calves, we worked over our home range until near the holidays.

On our return to the ranch, we learned that young Blas Travino from the Mission had passed Las Palomas some days before.  He had stopped in passing; but, finding the ranchero absent, plead a matter of business at Santa Maria, promising to call on his return.  He was then at the ranch on the Tarancalous, and hourly expecting his reappearance, the women of the household were in an agitated state of mind.  Since the formal answer had been sent, no word had come from Don Blas and a rival had meanwhile sprung up in the person of Fidel Trujillo.  Within a month after his employment I noticed the new vaquero casting shy glances at Juana, but until the cow hunt on the Frio I did not recognize the fine handwriting of the old matchmaker.  Though my services were never called for as interpreter between Uncle Lance and the new man, any one could see there was an understanding between them.  That the old ranchero was pushing Fidel forward was evident during the fall cow hunting by his sending that Mexican into Las Palomas with every bunch of cattle gathered.

That evening Don Blas rode into the ranch, accompanied by Father Norquin.  The priest belonged at the Mission, and their meeting at Santa Maria might, of course, have been accidental.  None of the padre’s parishioners at headquarters were expecting him, however, for several months, and padres are able padrinos,—­sometimes, among their own faith, even despotic.  Taking account, as it appeared, of the ulterior motive, Uncle Lance welcomed the arrivals with a hearty hospitality, which to a stranger seemed so genuine as to dispel any suspicion.  Not in many a day had a visitor at Las Palomas received more courteous consideration than did Father Norquin.  The choicest mint which grew in the inclosures about the wells was none too good for the juleps which were concocted by Miss Jean.  Had the master and mistress of the ranch been communicants of his church, the rosy-cheeked padre could have received no more marked attention.