feel it. The Dona Anita's mother offered
several trivial objections. Her daughter had never taken her into her
confidence over any suitor. And did Anita really love Enrique Lopez of
Las Palomas? Even if she did, could he support her, being but a vaquero?
This brought Uncle Lance to the front. He had known Enrique since the
day of his birth. As a five-year-old, and naked as the day he was born,
had he not ridden a colt at branding time, twice around the big corral
without being thrown? At ten, had he not thrown himself across a gateway
and allowed a _caballada_ of over two hundred wild range horses to jump
over his prostrate body as they passed in a headlong rush through the
gate? Only the year before at branding, when an infuriated bull had
driven every vaquero out of the corrals, did not Enrique mount his
horse, and, after baiting the bull out into the open, play with him like
a kitten with a mouse? And when the bull, tiring, attempted to make
his escape, who but Enrique had lassoed the animal by the fore feet,
breaking his neck in the throw? The diplomat of Las Palomas dejectedly
admitted that the bull was a prize animal, but could not deny that he
himself had joined in the plaudits to the daring vaquero. But if there
were a possible doubt that the Dona Anita did not love this son of Las
Palomas, then Lance Lovelace himself would oppose the union. This was an
important matter. Would Don Mateo be so kind as to summon the senorita?

The senorita came in response to the summons. She was a girl of possibly
seventeen summers, several inches taller than her mother, possessing
a beautiful complexion with large lustrous eyes. There was something
fawnlike in her timidity as she gazed at those about the table. Dona
Gregoria broke the news, informing her that the ranchero of Las Palomas
had asked her hand in marriage for Enrique, one of his vaqueros. Did she
love the man and was she willing to marry him? For reply the girl hid
her face in the mantilla of her mother. With commendable tact Dona
Gregoria led the mother and daughter into another room, from which the
two elder women soon returned with a favorable reply. Uncle Lance arose
and assured the corporal and his wife that their daughter would receive
his special care and protection; that as long as water ran and grass
grew, Las Palomas would care for her own children.

We accepted an invitation to remain for dinner, as several hours had
elapsed since our arrival. In company