We reached the ranch late in the evening and I introduced Nancrede to Uncle Lance, who took charge of him.  We had established a horse camp for the trail remuda, north of the river, and the next morning the trail foreman, my employer, and June Deweese, rode over to pass on the saddle stock.  The remuda pleased him, being fully up to the contract standard, and he accepted it with but a single exception.  This exception tickled Uncle Lance, as it gave him an opportunity to annoy his sister about Nancrede, as he did about every other cowman or drover who visited the ranch.  That evening, as I was chatting with Miss Jean, who was superintending the Mexican help milking at the cow pen, Uncle Lance joined us.

“Say, Sis,” said he, “our man Nancrede is a cowman all right.  I tried to ring in a ‘hipped’ horse on him this morning,—­one hip knocked down just the least little bit,—­but he noticed it and refused to accept him.  Oh, he’s got an eye in his head all right.  So if you say so, I’ll give him the best horse on the ranch in old Hippy’s place.  You’re always making fun of slab-sided cowmen; he’s pony-built enough to suit you, and I kind o’ like the color of his hair myself.  Did you notice his neck?—­he’ll never tie it if it gets broken.  I like a short man; if he stubs his toe and falls down he doesn’t reach halfway home.  Now, if he has as good cow sense in receiving the herd as he had on the remuda, I’d kind o’ like to have him for a brother-in-law.  I’m getting a little too old for active work and would like to retire, but June, the durn fool, won’t get married, and about the only show I’ve got is to get a husband for you.  I’d as lief live in Hades as on a ranch without a woman on it.  What do you think of him?”

“Why, I think he’s an awful nice fellow, but he won’t talk.  And besides, I’m not baiting my hook for small fish like trail foremen; I was aiming to keep my smiles for the contractors.  Aren’t they coming down?”

“Well, they might come to look the herd over before it starts out.  Now, Dupree is a good cowman, but he’s got a wife already.  And Camp, the financial man of the firm, made his money peddling Yankee clocks.  Now, you don’t suppose for a moment I’d let you marry him and carry you away from Las Palomas.  Marry an old clock peddler?—­not if he had a million!  The idea!  If they come down here and I catch you smiling on old Camp, I’ll set the hounds on you.  What you want to do is to set your cap for Nancrede.  Of course, you’re ten years the elder, but that needn’t cut any figure.  So just burn a few smiles on the red-headed trail foreman!  You know you can count on your loving brother to help all he can.”

The conversation was interrupted by our segundo and the trail foreman riding up to the cow pen.  The two had been up the river during the afternoon, looking over the cattle on the range, for as yet we had not commenced gathering.  Nancrede was very reticent, discovering a conspicuous lack of words to express his opinion of what cattle Deweese had shown him.