e river this morning,
so we can make three rodeos from it without moving camp, and to-night
we'll have a side of Pinto's ribs barbecued. My mouth is watering this
very minute for a rib roast."

That morning after a big rodeo on the Nueces, well above the Ganso, we
returned to camp. Throwing into our herd the cut of less than a hundred
secured on the morning round-up, Uncle Lance, who had preceded us, rode
out from the wagon with a carbine. Allowing the beeves to scatter, the
old ranchero met and rode zigzagging through them until he came face to
face with the pinto _ladino_. On noticing the intruding horseman, the
outlaw threw up his head. There was a carbine report and the big fellow
went down in his tracks. By the time the herd had grazed away, Tiburcio,
who was cooking with our wagon, brought out all the knives, and the beef
was bled, dressed, and quartered.

"You can afford to be extravagant with this beef," said Uncle Lance to
the old cook, when the quarters had been carried in to the wagon. "I've
been ranching on this river nearly forty years, and I've always made it
a rule, where cattle cannot be safely handled, to beef them then and
there. I've sat up many a night barbecuing the ribs of a _ladino_. If
you have plenty of salt, Tiburcio, you can make a brine and jerk those
hind quarters. It will make fine chewing for the boys on night herd when
once we start for the coast."

Following down the home river, we made ten other rodeos before we met
Deweese. We had something over a thousand beeves while he had less than
eight hundred. Throwing the two cuts together, we made a count, and cut
back all the younger and smaller cattle until the herd was reduced to
the required number. Before my advent at Las Palomas, about the only
outlet for beef cattle had been the canneries at Rockport and Fulton.
But these cattle were for shipment by boat to New Orleans and other
coast cities. The route to the coast was well known to my employer, and
detailing twelve men for the herd, a horse wrangler and cook extra, we
started for it, barely touching at the ranch on our course. It was a
nice ten days' trip. After the first night, we used three guards of four
men each. Grazing contentedly, the cattle quieted down until on our
arrival half our numbers could have handled them. The herd was counted
and received on the outlying prairies, and as no steamer was due for a
few days, another outfit took charge of them.

Uncle Lance was never