ate hour one night young Wells
overheard this conversation: "Hello, Bill," said the case-keeper in
a faro game, as he turned his head halfway round to see who was the
owner of the monster hand which had just reached over his shoulder and
placed a stack of silver dollars on a card, marking it to win, "I've
missed you the last few days. Where have you been so long?"

"Oh, I've just been out to El Paso on a little pasear guarding the
stage," was the reply. Now the little pasear was a continuous night
and day round-trip of twelve hundred miles. Bill had slept and eaten
as he could. When mounted, he scouted every possible point of ambush
for lurking Indian or bandit. Crossing open stretches of country, he
climbed up on the stage and slept. Now having returned, he was anxious
to get his wages into circulation. Here were characters worthy of a
passing glance.

Interesting as this frontier life was to the young man, he prepared
for his final destination. He had no trouble in locating his father's
property, for it was less than twenty miles from San Antonio. Securing
an American who spoke Spanish, the two set out on horseback. There
were several small ranchitos on the tract, where five or six Mexican
families lived. Each family had a field and raised corn for bread. A
flock of goats furnished them milk and meat. The same class of people
in older States were called squatters, making no claim to ownership
of the land. They needed little clothing, the climate being in their
favor.

The men worked at times. The pecan crop which grew along the creek
bottoms was beginning to have a value in the coast towns for shipment
to northern markets, and this furnished them revenue for their simple
needs. All kinds of game was in abundance, including waterfowl in
winter, though winter here was only such in name. These simple people
gave a welcome to the New Yorker which appeared sincere. They offered
no apology for their presence on this land, nor was such in order, for
it was the custom of the country. They merely referred to themselves
as "his people," as though belonging to the land.

When they learned that he was the son of the owner of the grant, and
that he wanted to spend a few months hunting and looking about,
they considered themselves honored. The best jacal in the group was
tendered him and his interpreter. The food offered was something new,
but the relish with which his companion partook of it assisted young
Wells in overcoming