Glenn Gallup’s people lived in Victoria County, about as far from Las Palomas as mine, and the next morning we set out down the river.  Our course together only led a short distance, but we jogged along until noon, when we rested an hour and parted, Glenn going on down the river for Oakville, while I turned almost due north across country for the mouth of San Miguel.  The black carried me that afternoon as though the saddle was empty.  I was constrained to hold him in, in view of the long journey before us, so as not to reach the McLeod ranch too early.  Whenever we struck cattle on our course, I rode through them to pass away the time, and just about sunset I cantered up to the McLeod ranch with a dash.  I did not know a soul on the place, but put on a bold front and asked for Miss Esther.  On catching sight of me, she gave a little start, blushed modestly, and greeted me cordially.

Texas hospitality of an early day is too well known to need comment; I was at once introduced to the McLeod household.  It was rather a pretentious ranch, somewhat dilapidated in appearance—­appearances are as deceitful on a cattle ranch as in the cut of a man’s coat.  Tony Hunter, a son-in-law of the widow, was foreman on the ranch, and during the course of the evening in the discussion of cattle matters, I innocently drew out the fact that their branded calf crop of that season amounted to nearly three thousand calves.  When a similar question was asked me, I reluctantly admitted that the Las Palomas crop was quite a disappointment this year, only branding sixty-five hundred calves, but that our mule and horse colts ran nearly a thousand head without equals in the Nueces valley.

I knew there was no one there who could dispute my figures, though Mrs. McLeod expressed surprise at them.  “Ye dinna say,” said my hostess, looking directly at me over her spectacles, “that Las Palomas branded that mony calves thi’ year?  Why, durin’ ma gudeman’s life we alway branded mair calves than did Mr. Lovelace.  But then my husband would join the army, and I had tae depend on greasers tae do ma work, and oor kye grew up mavericks.”  I said nothing in reply, knowing it to be quite natural for a woman or inexperienced person to feel always the prey of the fortunate and far-seeing.

The next morning before leaving, I managed to have a nice private talk with Miss Esther, and thought I read my title clear, when she surprised me with the information that her mother contemplated sending her off to San Antonio to a private school for young ladies.  Her two elder sisters had married against her mother’s wishes, it seemed, and Mrs. McLeod was determined to give her youngest daughter an education and fit her for something better than being the wife of a common cow hand.  This was the inference from the conversation which passed between us at the gate.  But when Esther thanked me for the Christmas remembrance I had brought her, I felt that I would take a chance on her, win or lose.  Assuring her that I would make it a point to call on my return, I gave the black a free rein and galloped out of sight.