1895. 



THE AMERICAN BEE-KEEPER. 



:n:j 



beaded belt to tho littln sonora, 

 whose dark eyes flashed with grati- 

 6cation and who thanked me with a 

 great courtesj^ which would have 

 become the qneen of Spain herself. 



The sun was low in the horizon 

 ■when I sat down with Jose to onr 

 evening meal. We demolished it in 

 solitary state, waited upon by the 

 senora's sister, an exceedingly pret- 

 ty girl of 14, with the hearing of a 

 •woman of four and twenty. 



The errand that brought me to the 

 Ponil was the buggy in which we 

 had driven thither. Jose had bought 

 it from my partner, but having no 

 horse to convejMt home had borrow- 

 ed our mare, which I was to ride 

 back on tho following day. Thus I 

 had still a breakfast to get through 

 at Ponil and 40 miles to ride after- 

 ward under a burning sun. The 

 probable nature of this breakfast 

 was a serious anxiety to me as I ate 

 my supper, and the meal was dis- 

 posed of in solemn silence. When 

 it was finished, we adjourned to a 

 grassy bank outside the house to 

 smoke a quiet pipe. The sun had 

 disappeared now, and the dusk was 

 creeping up swiftly from the east. 

 In less than an hour night would be 

 upon us. I lay back at my ease and 

 drowsily watched the girls, who 

 were sitting together a little way off 

 busily sewing. Jose was with them 

 fingering a piece of stufl"' — presuma- 

 'blya new dress — which his wife had 

 placed upon his knee for inspection. 

 It was a pretty, homelike scene, and 

 I smiled to myself as I remembered 

 the absurd hesitation I had felt at 

 relinquishing my revolver. Revolv- 

 ers! Could anything be more out of 

 place in such an atmosphere as this? 



So thinking, I turned to knock 

 the ashes from my pi]K3, which had 

 gone out, and was about to relight 

 it when my attention was caught by 

 an odd pattering sound, the distant 

 tramp of galloping horses. Some- 

 body seemed to be in a hurry this 

 evening. I sat up and called to Jose. 



Ho was s.niling at the time, playful- 

 ly pulling his wife's hair. At my 

 words and gesture he sprang to his 

 feet with a startled look and ran 

 quickly to a place from whence the 

 road to Cimarron was visible for two 

 miles. 



He stood there nearly a minute, 

 shading bis eyes with his hand, then 

 he ran back to us, and such a change 

 had passed over the man's face that 

 I stared at him in amazement. His 

 lips, naturallj^ loose, were now com- 

 pressed into a thin, blue line; his 

 eyes were strangely dilated; he held 

 a knife in his hand. I sprang to my 

 feet, half believing that the knife 

 was meant for me. But Jose only 

 touched my arm and gasped be- 

 tween set teeth, pointing toward the 

 west: 



"Vacheros come — vacheros from 

 Cimarron !" 



I failed to see the point. "Indeed, 

 cowboys — well, what's the matter?" 



Jose stamped and sw^ore aloud. 



"Matter! Carrambas! You no 

 sabe! Desperado cowboys, these. 

 Me know horses. Ah, vacheros dia- 

 volos! Vamos, you" — turning to 

 the women and still speaking in 

 broken English — "in casa. P'r'aps 

 they no see you there. P'r'aps no. 

 And you, senor, run — run fast 

 away," pointing to the river. "Go 

 very smart, and cowboys no catch 

 you at all." 



I looked around without moving 

 as bewildered as ever. The women 

 had scurried into the ranch like rab- 

 bits into a hole, and from two neigh- 

 boring houses three Mexicans were 

 tearing up to us at full speed, their 

 faces as anxious as Jose's. 



"What are you afraid of?" I ex- 

 claimed shortly, feeling strongly in- 

 clined to laugh. "We are five to 

 two." 



Jose shook his head impatiently 

 and swore again. 



"Si, si, si. But we have not one 

 pistol, and you are a boy. They 



