“Well, within a week of the wedding, who should drift in to spend Christmas but Curly Thorn.  His cousins, of course, lost no time in giving him the lay of the land.  But Curly acted indifferent, and never even offered to call on Miss Sallie.  Us fellows joked him about his girl going to marry another fellow, and he didn’t seem a little bit put out.  In fact, he seemed to enjoy the sudden turn as a good joke on himself.  But one morning, two days before the wedding was to take place, Miss Sallie was missing from her home, as was likewise Curly Thorn from the neighborhood.  Yes, Thorn had eloped with her and they were married the next morning in Nacogdoches.  And the funny thing about it was, Curly never met her after his return until the night they eloped.  But he had a girl cousin who had a finger in the pie.  She and Miss Sallie were as thick as three in a bed, and Curly didn’t have anything to do but play the hand that was dealt him.

“Before I came to Las Palomas, I was over round Fort McKavett and met Curly.  We knew each other, and he took me home and had me stay overnight with him.  They had been married then four years.  She had a baby on each knee and another in her arms.  There was so much reality in life that she had no time to become a dreamer.  Matrimony in that case was a good leveler of imaginary rank.  I always admired Curly for the indifferent hand he played all through the various stages of the courtship.  He never knew there was such a thing as difference.  He simply coppered the play to win, and the cards came his way.”

“Bully for Curly!” said Uncle Lance, arising and fixing the fire, as the rest of us unrolled our blankets.  “If some of my rascals could make a ten strike like that it would break a streak of bad luck which has overshadowed Las Palomas for over thirty years.  Great Scott!—­but those gobblers smell good.  I can hear them blubbering and sizzling in their shells.  It will surely take an axe to crack that clay in the morning.  But get under your blankets, lads, for I’ll call you for a turkey breakfast about dawn.”

CHAPTER XII

SUMMER OF ’77

During our trip into Mexico the fall before, Deweese contracted for three thousand cows at two haciendas on the Rio San Juan.  Early in the spring June and I returned to receive the cattle.  The ranch outfit under Uncle Lance was to follow some three weeks later and camp on the American side at Roma, Texas.  We made arrangements as we crossed into Mexico with a mercantile house in Mier to act as our bankers, depositing our own drafts and taking letters of credit to the interior.  In buying the cows we had designated Mier, which was just opposite Roma, as the place for settlement and Uncle Lance on his arrival brought drafts to cover our purchases, depositing them with the same merchant.  On receiving, we used a tally mark which served as a road brand, thus preventing a second branding, and throughout—­much