314 



THE AMERICAN BEE-KEEPER. 



Noi'ember 



Well. I,)3 ujj tiaun. Takocare of your- 

 self, lad." 



In a few minutes the old ranch 

 was fatlinp: ont of siu'lit, and I was 

 bowlinr;; int^rrily across the prairie 

 toward tbo Ponil, a Mexican vil- 

 la<3fG 40 niiles to the northwest, on 

 the eastern slope of the Rooky 

 mountains. My onixiijanion was a 

 swarthy youth of 18, with fine 

 eyes, a flat nose and a wide, iicrly 

 month. Jose was a thorough Mexi- 

 can, with the manners and speech 

 of a Spaniard and the stolid taci- 

 turnity of an Indian, a man who 

 would kill hir; h3.3t friend if neces- 

 sity or anger prompted him, yet 

 who obeyed his elder brother like a 

 child and could be t2'ust.ed to endure 

 any privation and brave any dan^rer 

 for the sake of a flock of sheep. 

 Principle and duty were not recog- 

 nized in -lose's code of morality, but 

 he often juade sentiment and feeling 

 act as exceedingly good substitutes. 



It was a warm and pleasant day, 

 and I c; joyed the complete idlejiess 

 and ref.t of my position in a way 

 which can scarcely be realized by 

 any one who has not herded sheep 

 for 18 months. 



Hour after hour our good little 

 mare ke]it up her quick, vigorous 

 sti'ide over the rolling prairie until 

 at 4 in t'.io aftern. jn we struck a 

 road wnich led us up a long, steep 

 hill. Tho air grew cooler every mo- 

 minit as wo toiled upward. We were 

 leavin': t'le i3lains behind. I looked 

 back ov.r the longstretcii of prairie 

 we had traversed, lying brown and 

 dry under the summer sun, aiid in- 

 wardly compared it to my own 

 life, so dull and uneventful, desoLito 

 and monotonous. Before us the dark 

 foothills rose grandly, raiige beyond 

 range, and as we traveled on the 

 road grew steejier. 



\s'e were a'uong the mountains 

 now, and tjo ranch and the slie-^p 

 and the okl life were 40 miles awa.y. 

 At Li.it, turning oil upon a li ;; k 

 whicli branched to the right of tlje 



main road, we came upon a most 

 refreshing thing, a running stream, 

 ■which Jose pointed out to me as 

 the Rio Cimarron, on the banks of 

 ■which two miles farther on his na- 

 tive village stood and where our 

 journey came to an end. 



It seemed a short two miles, for 

 the road was level again, and we 

 spun on at a merry pace, at inter- 

 vals meeting some relative of Jose's, 

 each man raising his hat with a po- 

 lite Spanish greeting which J fear 

 was acknowledged very grimly by 

 me, for beneath the hats I saw sharp 

 eyes peering susiDiciously at my 

 equipment, and as we came in sight 

 of the little town and Jose whipped 

 np the mare to enter the place in 

 stjde I felt a very peculiar disincli- 

 nation to relinquish my trusty and 

 beloved six shooter to any senora 

 whatsoever. 



But as we descended the last hill 

 and drew up before a gray adobe 

 dwelling, with the smallest windows 

 and largest door I had ever seen, my 

 suspicions died away and gave place 

 to a feeling which I had not expe- 

 rienced for many months. Grouped 

 in the big doorway of Jose's home- 

 stead were half a dozen girls — girls 

 with soft brown eyes, delicate fea- 

 tures and trim little figures. The 

 tallest, I should suppose, would not 

 reach, to the shoulder of a well grown 

 English lassie, but the proportions 

 of their. fiiiiLreii could n£)t bave been 

 inore perfect, and as they stood tiher© 

 in pretty colored prints, their glos- 

 sy black hair loosely braided and 

 reaching to their waists, their eyes 

 big with innocent curiosity, they 

 formed as pretty a picture as a 

 man's heart could desire. I felt the 

 color rush into my cheeks, and a 

 queer sensation of pleasure pass 

 through my whole being. Off came 

 my hat as the biiggy stopped with a 

 spirited jerk, and the next moment 

 I was bowing with all the grace I 

 could muster, which was not much, 

 and offering my revolver, knife and 



