ed her own horse and led the way to
the round-up.

Dave's unbounded delight filled the mistress of Las Palmas with the
keenest pleasure. He laughed, he hummed snatches of songs, he kept up a
chatter addressed as much to the mare as to his companion, and under it
Montrosa romped like a tomboy. It was gratifying to meet with such
appreciation as this; Alaire felt warm and friendly to the whole world,
and decided that out of her abundance she must do more for other people.

Of course Dave had to tell of Don Ricardo's thoughtful gift, and
concluded by saying, "I think this must be my birthday, although it
doesn't fit in with the calendar."

"Don Ricardo has his enemies, but he is a good-hearted old man."

"Yes," Dave agreed. Then more gravely: "I'm sorry I let him go across
the river." There was a pause. "If anybody harms him I reckon I'll have
a feud on my hands, for I'm a grateful person."

"I believe it. I can see that you are loyal."

"I was starved on sentiment when I was little, but it's in me bigger
than a skinned ox. They say gratitude is an elemental, primitive
emotion--"

"Perhaps that's why it is so rare nowadays," said Alaire, not more than
half in jest.

"You find it rare?" Dave looked up keenly. "Well, you have certainly
laid up a store of it to-day."

Benito and his men had rounded up perhaps three thousand head of cattle
when Alaire and her companion appeared, and they were in the process of
"cutting out." Assembled near a flowing well which gave life to a
shallow pond, the herd was held together by a half-dozen horsemen who
rode its outskirts, heading off and driving back the strays. Other men,
under Benito's personal direction, were isolating the best animals and
sending them back to the pasture. It was an animated scene, one fitted
to rouse enthusiasm in any plainsman, for the stock was fat and
healthy; there were many calves, and the incessant, rumbling complaint
of the herd was blood-stirring. The Las Palmas cowboys rode like
centaurs, doubling, dodging, yelling, and whirling their ropes like
lashes; the air was drumming to swift hoof-beats, and over all was the
hoarse, unceasing undertone from countless bovine throats. Out near the
grub-wagon the remuda was grazing, and thither at intervals came the
perspiring horsemen to change their mounts.

Benito, wet, dusty, and tired, rode up to his employer to report
progress.

"Dios! This is hot work for an old man. We will never finish by dark,"