“Hold on there, Father,” interrupted Uncle Lance.  “If you owe this ranch any apology, save your breath for a more important occasion.  Don Blas is all right; any suitor who would not be jealous over a girl like Juana is not welcome at Las Palomas.  Why, when I was his age I was suspicious of my sweetheart’s own father, and you should make allowance for this young man’s years and impetuosity.  Sit down, Father, and let’s have a talk about this chapel—­that’s what interests me most right now.  You see, within a few days my boys will have all the palisades cut for the new corrals, and then we can turn our attention to getting out the rock for the chapel.  We have a quarry of nice soft stone all opened up, and I’ll put a dozen vaqueros to blocking out the rock in a few days.  We always have a big stock of zacahuiste grass on hand for thatching jacals, plenty of limestone to burn for the lime, sand in abundance, and all we lack is the masons.  You’ll have to send them out from the Mission, but I’ll pay them.  Oh, I reckon the good Lord loves Las Palomas, for you see He’s placed everything convenient with which to build the chapel.”

Father Norquin could not remain seated, but paced the room enumerating the many little adornments which the mother church would be glad to supply.  Enthusiastic as a child over a promised toy, no other thought entered the simple padre’s mind, until dinner was announced.  And all during the meal, the object of our guest’s mission was entirely lost sight of, in contemplation of the coming chapel.  The padre seemed as anxious to avoid the subject of matchmaking as his host, while poor Don Blas sat like a willing sacrifice, unable to say a word.  I sympathized with him, for I knew what it was to meet disappointment.  At the conclusion of the mid-day repast, Father Norquin flew into a great bustle in preparing to start for Santa Maria, and I was dispatched for the horses.  Our guests and my employer were waiting at the stile when I led up their mounts, and at final parting the old matchmaker said to the priest:—­

“Now, remember, I expect you to have this chapel completed by Easter Sunday, when I want you to come out and spend at least two weeks with us and see that it is finished to suit you, and arrange for the dedication.  Las Palomas will build the chapel, but when our work is done yours commences.  And I want to tell you right now, there’s liable to be several weddings in it before the mortar gets good and dry.  I have it on pretty good authority that one of my boys and Pierre Vaux’s eldest girl are just about ready to have you pronounce them man and wife.  No, he’s not of any faith, but she’s a good Catholic.  Now, look here, Father Norquin, if I have to proselyte you to my way of thinking, it’ll never hurt you any.  I was never afraid to do what was right, and when at Las Palomas you needn’t be afraid either, even if we have to start a new creed.  Well, good-by to both of you.”