ould have to accustom himself to the sight of
strange horses along his fence and strange automobiles beside the road,
for Paloma was a woman now, and the young men of the neighborhood had
made the discovery. Yes, and Paloma was a pretty woman; therefore the
hole under the ebony-tree would probably be worn deep by impatient
hoofs. He was glad that most of the boys preferred saddles to soft
upholstery, for it argued that some vigor still remained in Texas
manhood, and that the country had not been entirely ruined by motors,
picture-shows, low shoes, and high collars. Of course the youths of
this day were nothing like the youths of his own, and yet--Blaze let
his gaze linger fondly on the high-bred mare and her equipment--here at
least was a person who knew a good horse, a good saddle, and a good gun.

As he came up the walk he heard Paloma laugh, and his own face
lightened, for Paloma's merriment was contagious. Then as he mounted
the steps and turned the corner of the "gallery" he uttered a hearty
greeting.

"Dave Law! Where in the world did you drop from?"

Law uncoiled himself and took the ranchman's hand. "Hello, Blaze! I
been ordered down here to keep you straight."

"Pshaw! Now who's giving you orders, Dave?"

"Why, I'm with the Rangers."

"Never knew a word of it. Last I heard you was filibustering around
with the Maderistas."

Blaze seated himself with a grateful sigh where the breeze played over
him. He was a big, bearlike, swarthy man with the square-hewn,
deep-lined face of a tragedian, and a head of long, curly hair which he
wore parted in a line over his left ear. Jones was a character, a local
landmark. This part of Texas had grown up with Blaze, and, inasmuch as
he had sprung from a free race of pioneers, he possessed a splendid
indifference to the artificial fads of dress and manners. It was only
since Paloma had attained her womanhood that he had been forced to
fight down his deep-seated distrust of neckwear and store clothes and
the like; but now that his daughter had definitely asserted her rights,
he had acquired numerous unwelcome graces, and no longer ventured among
strangers without the stamp of her approval upon his appearance. Only
at home did he maintain what he considered a manly independence of
speech and habit. To-day, therefore, found him in a favorite suit of
baggy, wrinkled linen and with a week's stubble of beard upon his chin.
He was so plainly an outdoor man that the air of erudi