m to the shoulder of the bearer with the utmost zeal and amid a
profusion of compliments. I was annoyed at the interruption in our work,
but I could see that Enrique was now in the highest heaven of delight.
The Dona Anita's mother was present, and made it her duty to notice that
only commonplace formalities passed between her daughter and the ardent
vaquero. After the jars were all filled, the bevy of women started on
their return; but Dona Anita managed to drop a few feet to the rear of
the procession, and, looking back, quietly took up one corner of her
mantilla, and with a little movement, apparently all innocence, flashed
a message back to the entranced Enrique. I was aware of the flirtation,
but before I had made more of it Enrique sprang down from the abutment
of the well, dragged me from my horse, and in an ecstasy of joy,
crouching behind the abutments, cried: Had I seen the sign? Had I not
noticed her token? Was my brain then so befuddled? Did I not understand
the ways of the senoritas among his people?--that they always answered
by a wave of the handkerchief, or the mantilla? Ave Maria, Tomas! Such
stupidity! Why, to be sure, they could talk all day with their eyes.

[Illustration: FLASHED A MESSAGE BACK]

A setting sun finally ended his confidences, and the watering was soon
finished, for Enrique lowered the bucket in a gallop. On our reaching
the herd and while we were catching our night horses, Uncle Lance strode
out to the rope corral, with the inquiry, what had delayed us. "Nothing
particular," I replied, and looked at Enrique, who shrugged his
shoulders and repeated my answer. "Now, look here, you young liars,"
said the old ranchero; "the wagon has been in camp over an hour, and,
admitting it did start before you, you had plenty of time to water the
saddle stock and overtake it before it could possibly reach the herd. I
can tell a lie myself, but a good one always has some plausibility. You
rascals were up to some mischief, I'll warrant."

I had caught out my night horse, and as I led him away to saddle up,
Uncle Lance, not content with my evasive answer, followed me. "Go to
Enrique," I whispered; "he'll just bubble over at a good chance to tell
you. Yes; it was the Dona Anita who caused the delay." A smothered
chuckling shook the old man's frame, as he sauntered over to where
Enrique was saddling. As the two led off the horse to picket in the
gathering dusk, the ranchero had his arm around the vaquero