particularly if he has gall and money, most of all, money.  Humanity is the same the world over, and while you may not have seen it here among the ranches, it is natural for a woman to rave over a man with money, even if he is only a pimply excuse for a creature.  Still, I don’t see that we have very much to fear.  We can cut old lady McLeod out of the matter entirely.  But then there’s the girl’s sister, Mrs. Martin, and I look for her to cut up shameful when she smells the rat, which she’s sure to do.  And then there’s her husband to figure on.  If the ox knows his master’s crib, it’s only reasonable to suppose that Jack Martin knows where his bread and butter comes from.  These stage men will stick up for each other like thieves.  Now, don’t you be too crack sure.  Be just a trifle leary of every one, except, of course, the Las Palomas outfit.”

I admit that I did not see clearly the reasoning behind much of this lecture, but I knew better than reject the advice of the old matchmaker with his sixty odd years of experience.  I was still meditating over his remarks when we rejoined the crowd and were soon separated among the dancers.  Several urged me to play the violin; but I was too busy looking after my own fences, and declined the invitation.  Casting about for the Vaux girls, I found the eldest, with whom I had a slight acquaintance, being monopolized by Theodore Quayle and John Cotton, friendly rivals and favorites of the young lady.  On my imploring the favor of a dance, she excused herself, and joined me on a promenade about the grounds, missing one dance entirely.  In arranging matters with her to send me word on the arrival of Esther at their ranch, I attempted to make her show some preference between my two comrades, under the pretense of knowing which one to bring along, but she only smiled and maintained an admirable neutrality.

After a dance I returned the elder Miss Vaux to the tender care of John Cotton, and caught sight of my employer leaving the arbor for the refreshment booth with a party of women, including Mrs. Martin and Esther McLeod, to whom he was paying the most devoted attention.  Witnessing the tireless energy of the old matchmaker, and in a quarter where he had little hope of an ally, brought me to thinking that there might be good cause for alarm in his warnings not to be overconfident.  Miss Jean, whom I had not seen since luncheon, aroused me from my reverie, and on her wishing to know my motive for cultivating the acquaintance of Miss Vaux and neglecting my own sweetheart, I told her the simple truth.  “Good idea, Tom,” she assented.  “I think I’ll just ask Miss Frances home with me to spend Sunday.  Then you can take her across to the Frio on horseback, so as not to offend either John or Theodore.  What do you think?”

I thought it was a good idea, and said so.  At least the taking of the young lady home would be a pleasanter task for me than breaking horses.  But as I expressed myself so, I could not help thinking, seeing Miss Jean’s zeal in the matter, that the matchmaking instinct was equally well developed on both sides of the Lovelace family.