The Mt. Sterling advocate. (Mt. Sterling, Ky.) 1890-current, 1895-10-29
BLUFFED VACHEROS.

The buggy was ready, and Jos
stood at the mare head waiting fol
me to mount.
NOW, don't forget what I TOLD
you last night" said my partner il
a low tone as l filled the belt of my
revolver-"Colt's army"-with its
complement of 35 cartridges. Though
Mexicans are meaner than snakes
on the ranches and no sane man
would trust them with the worth OF
an old shoe button, they take a diff.
ferent line on their own ground. You
had better keep your six shooter un-
tied until the women of the place
show up, then take off the whole
concern and hand it over to Jose's
wife, and don't ask for it until you
leave the next day. Are you loaded?
Well, be off then. Take care of your
self, lad"
In a few minutes the old ranch
was fading out of sight, and I was
bowling merrily across the prairie
toward the Ponil, a Mexican vii
lage 40 miles to the northwest on
the eastern slope of the Rocky
mountains. Ny companion was
swarthy youth of Is, with fine
eyes, a fat nose and a wide, ugly
mouth. Jose was thorough Next
can, with the manners and speech
of Spaniard and the stolid tact
turnity of an Indian, man who
would kill his best friend if neces-
sity or anger prompted him, yet
who obeyed his elder brother like
child and could be trusted to endure
any privation and brave any danger
for the sake Of a flock of sheep.
Principle and duty were not recog-
nized in Jose's code of morality, but
he often made sentiment and feeling
act as exceedingly good substitutes
1t was a warm and pleasant day,
and enjoyed the complete idleness
and rest of my position in way
which can scarcely be realized by
any one who has not herded sheep
for Is months.
Hour after hour our good little
mare kept up her quick, vigorous
stride over the rolling prairie until
at A in the afternoon we struck
road which led us up long, steep
hill. The air grew cooler every mo-
rnent as we toiled upward. We were
leaving the plains behind. I looked
back over the long stretch of prairie
we had traversed, lying brown and
dry under the summer sun, and in
wardly compared it to my own
life, so dull and uneventful, desolate
and monotonous. Before as the dark
foothills rose grandly, range beyond
range, and as we travelled on the
road grew sleeper.
! We were among the mountains
now, and the ranch and the sheep
and the old life were 40 miles away.
At last, turning off upon a track
which branohed to the right of the
main road, we came upon 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 ma
tive village stood and where our
journey came to an end.
1t seemed a short two miles, for
the road was level again, and we
spun on at merry pace, at inter
walls meeting some relative of Joses,
each man raising his hat with po-
lite Spanish greeting which fear
was acknowledged very grimly by
me, for beneath the hats l saw sharp (,
eyes peering suspiciously at my /
equipment, and as we came in Sig"t |
of the little town and Jose whipped /
up the mare to enter the place in
style felt very peculiar disincli-
nation to relinquish my trusty and
beloved six shooter to any sonora
whatsoever.
But as we descended the last hill
and drew up before gray adobe
dwelling, with the smallest windows
and largest door had ever seen, my
died away and gave place
10 q feeling which | had not expe-
! fenced for many months. Grouped
iii the big doorway of Jose's home
tead were half a dozen girls--girls
18th soft brown eyes, delicate fea-
! res and trim little figures. The
/ Hest, ! should suppose, would not
! ZACH to tbs shoulder of well grown
] nslish lassie, but the proportions
pt theix figures could not have been