knights of Las Palomas
might be seen galloping over the course, practicing. I tried using the
lance several times, only to find that it was not as easy as it looked,
and I finally gave up the idea of lancing honors, and turned my
attention to the relay races.

Miss Jean had been the only representative of our ranch at Shepherd's on
San Jacinto Day. But she had had her eyes open on that occasion, and on
our return had a message for nearly every one of us. I was not expecting
any, still the mistress of Las Palomas had met my old sweetheart and her
sister, Mrs. Hunter, at the ferry, and the three had talked the matter
over and mingled their tears in mutual sympathy. I made a blustering
talk which was to cover my real feelings and to show that I had grown
indifferent toward Esther, but that tactful woman had not lived in vain,
and read me aright.

"Tom," said she, "I was a young woman when you were a baby. There's lots
of things in which you might deceive me, but Esther McLeod is not one of
them. You loved her once, and you can't tell me that in less than a year
you have forgotten her. I won't say that men forget easier than women,
but you have never suffered one tenth the heartaches over Esther McLeod
that she has over you. You can afford to be generous with her, Tom.
True, she allowed an older sister to browbeat and bully her into
marrying another man, but she was an inexperienced girl then. If you
were honest, you would admit that Esther of her own accord would never
have married Jack Oxenford. Then why punish the innocent? Oh, Tom, if
you could only see her now! Sorrow and suffering have developed the
woman in her, and she is no longer the girl you knew and loved."

Miss Jean was hewing too close to the line for my comfort. Her
observations were so near the truth that they touched me in a vulnerable
spot. Yet as I paced the room, I expressed myself emphatically as never
wishing to meet Esther McLeod again. I really felt that way. But I had
not reckoned on the mistress of Las Palomas, nor considered that her
strong sympathy for my former sweetheart had moved her to more than
ordinary endeavor.

The month of May passed. Uncle Lance spent several weeks at the Booth
ranch on the Frio. At the home ranch practice for the contests went
forward with vigor. By the first of June we had sifted the candidates
down until we had determined on our best men for each entry. The old
ranchero and our _segundo_, together with Dan Happ