elaborated the invitation with a thousand adornments. But the owner of
Las Palomas had lived nearly forty years among the Spanish-American
people on the Nueces, and knew how to make allowances for the exuberance
of the Latin tongue. There was no telling to what extent Enrique could
have kept on delivering messages, but to his employer he was avoiding
the issue.

"But did you get to see Anita?" interrupted Uncle Lance. Yes, he had
seen her, but that was about all. Did not Don Lance know the customs
among the Castilians? There was her mother ever present, or if she must
absent herself, there was a bevy of _tias comadres_ surrounding her,
until the Dona Anita dare not even raise her eyes to meet his. "To
perdition with such customs, no?" The freedom of a cow camp is a
splendid opportunity to relieve one's mind upon prevailing injustices.

"Don't fret your cattle so early in the morning, son," admonished
the wary matchmaker. "I've handled worse cases than this before. You
Mexicans are sticklers on customs, and we must deal with our neighbors
carefully. Before I show my hand in this, there's just one thing I want
to know--is the girl willing? Whenever you can satisfy me on that point,
Enrique, just call on the old man. But before that I won't stir a step.
You remember what a time I had over Tiburcio's Juan--that's so, you were
too young then. Well, June here remembers it. Why, the girl just cut up
shamefully. Called Juan an Indian peon, and bragged about her Castilian
family until you'd have supposed she was a princess of the blood royal.
Why, it took her parents and myself a whole day to bring the girl around
to take a sensible view of matters. On my soul, except that I didn't
want to acknowledge defeat, I felt a dozen times like telling her to
go straight up. And when she did marry you, she was as happy as a
lark--wasn't she, Juan? But I like to have the thing over with in--well,
say half an hour's time. Then we can have refreshments, and smoke, and
discuss the prospects of the young couple."

Uncle Lance's question was hard to answer. Enrique had known the girl
for several years, had danced with her on many a feast day, and never
lost an opportunity to whisper the old, old story in her willing ear.
Others had done the like, but the dark-eyed senorita is an adept in the
art of coquetry, and there you are. But Enrique swore a great oath he
would know. Yes, he would. He would lay siege to her as he had never
done before.