San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-02-14
At; IDYL OF THE Hi.

the ranch house. awaiting supper. The
Mexican cook has just begun his fragrant
task, so a half hour must elapse before
these Arabs are fed. Their ponies are
turned into the wire pasture, their big
Colorado saddles repOse astride the low
pale fence which surrounds the house,
and tits evident that their riding is over
for the day.
Why are they gloomy? Not a boy of
them can tell. One is from Princeton,
too. They have been partners and COM
paneros and worked" the HT cattle to-
gether for months, and nothing ever
came in misunderstanding or cloud.
The ranch house is their home, anu
theirs has been the unity of brothers.
A week ago pretty girl, the daughter
of one Of the owners, came to the ranch
from the east. She was protected in
this venture by an old and gnarled aunt,
watChful as q ferret, sour as a lime.
Not that the pretty girl needs watching;
she is indeed in every move propriety's
climax. No soft or dulcet reason woos
her to the west; she comes on no love
errand. She is elegantly and profoundly
tired of the east, that is all, and longs
for western air and western sights. She
has been at the HIT ranch week, and
the boys have met her, every one. The
meeting or meetings We're marked by
awkwardness as to the boys, utter in
difference as to the Pretty girl. She
met them as she met the ponies, cows,
horned toads and other animals, domes-
tic and indigenous to eastern New Mex
leo. While every cowboy was blush
ingly conscious of her, she was purely
and serenely guiltlass of giving him
thought.
Before this pretty girl came the boys
were friends. and the calm tenor Of their
relations with each other hal never a
ripple. She was not there day before
each drew himself insensibly from the
others, and a vague hostility shone
di.nly in their eyes. It was the instinct
Of the fighting male animal aroused by
the presence CT the pretty girl. She,
however, proceeded on her daily way,
swectIy uucGl cious OF the sentiments
she had awakened.
Men are mere animals; women are.
too, for that matter. but they are very
different animals from men. The ef-
fort the race makes TO be the other, bet
ter or different than beasts fails. 1t al
WAYS failed: it viii always fail. Civil
zation-curture-is the variest veneer
and famous!y thin. 4 year on the plains
cracks this veneer this shell and
leaves the animal exposed. This is by
the expanding growth of all that is ami
malish IN man; these attributes Of the
physical being fed and panpered Icy
plains existence.
The dark, vague, impalpable differ
ences which cut off each Of these Great
ures from his fellows and inspired him
with an unreasoniug and unreasonable
hate had grown with the brief week of
their existence. 4 philosopher would
look for trouble soon ON the HIT.
"What did you go and take my saddle
for Yesterday, Bill:' said Jack Moore to
a boy by the name of Bill Watkins.
"'Cause I allows I'll ride it some,"
says Watkins. Il thought it might like
to carry high grade cowpuncher once"
We'll. don't take it no more" said
Moore, moodily, ignoring the gay iuso-
lcnco in the reply. "Leastwise, don't
come a-taEin' Of it an sayin' EOthin'.
You can ralavcr Americana, can't you?
When Won aims to rice my saddle agin,
ask for il; If you can't talk make Signs,
and if you cant make sign, shake
bush, but don't 80 Injunin' OF no saddle
of mine no more
"Whatcvar do YOU allow is liable to
happen if I take it agin tomorry:' in
auired Bill IL high sc0Tn.
Bill was Of more vivaciOus temper
than the gloomy Moore.
"You taxes it agin an miugles with
you n whole lot, mighty prompt" re-
piled MOorein q tone Of obstinate injury.
These boys were brothers in affection
before that pretty girl came, and either
would have gone afoot all day to lend
his saddle to tho otbcr."Going afoOt, too,
is the last thing, let me assure you, a
cowboy will do.
"Well, don't you fail to mingle none, ;"
Stiu Dill. Win CiStilHI 4O4VSi'y' vi az
count of its being me. | crossed the trail
of the slorthorn like you. over on the
Panhandle onct. an puts him inthe fire
an has plenty of fun with him"
stop the play now, right yere," said
Tom Rawlins, the 1T range boss, who
was sitting close at hand. You all
spring trouble round yere an I'll be init.
Whatever's the matter with all you peo-
pie anyway? You're like a passed. of sore
head dogs for moren week now.
You're shorely too many for me to sabe,
an cl'ar gives you up"