ugh my services were never called for as
interpreter between Uncle Lance and the new man, any one could see there
was an understanding between them. That the old ranchero was pushing
Fidel forward was evident during the fall cow hunting by his sending
that Mexican into Las Palomas with every bunch of cattle gathered.

That evening Don Blas rode into the ranch, accompanied by Father
Norquin. The priest belonged at the Mission, and their meeting at Santa
Maria might, of course, have been accidental. None of the padre's
parishioners at headquarters were expecting him, however, for several
months, and padres are able _padrinos_,--sometimes, among their own
faith, even despotic. Taking account, as it appeared, of the ulterior
motive, Uncle Lance welcomed the arrivals with a hearty hospitality,
which to a stranger seemed so genuine as to dispel any suspicion. Not
in many a day had a visitor at Las Palomas received more courteous
consideration than did Father Norquin. The choicest mint which grew in
the inclosures about the wells was none too good for the juleps which
were concocted by Miss Jean. Had the master and mistress of the ranch
been communicants of his church, the rosy-cheeked padre could have
received no more marked attention.

The conversation touched lightly on various topics, until Santa Maria
ranch was mentioned, when Uncle Lance asked the padre if Don Mateo had
yet built him a chapel. The priest shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly
and answered the question with another,--when Las Palomas proposed
building a place of worship.

"Well, Father, I'm glad you've brought the matter up again," replied the
host. "That I should have lived here over forty years and never done
anything for your church or my people who belong to your faith, is
certainly saying little in my behalf. I never had the matter brought
home to me so clearly as during last summer's drouth. Do you remember
that old maxim regarding when the devil was sick? Well, I was good and
sick. If you had happened in then and had asked for a chapel,--not that
I have any confidence in your teaching,--you could have got a church
with a steeple on it. I was in such sore straits that the women were
kept busy making candles, and we burnt them in every _jacal_ until the
hour of deliverance."

Helping himself from the proffered snuffbox of the padre, the host
turned to his guest, and in all sincerity continued: "Yes, Father, I
ought to build you a nice place of wors