Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1895-10-31
BLUFFED VACHEROS.

The buggy was ready, and Jose
stood at the mares head waiting for
me TO mount.
Now, don't forget what told
You last night, said my partner in
low tone as filed the belt of my
revolver-"C Colts arny'-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 diff
ferent line on their own ground. You
had better keep your six shooter I'M
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 l 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. My companion was a
swarthy youth of Is, with fine
eyes, fiat 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 a
child and could be trusted to endure
any privation and brave any danger
for the sake of flock of sheep.
Principle and duty We're not recog-
nized in Jose's code of morality, but
he often made sentiment and feeling
act as exceedingly good substitutes.
1t was 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 in the afternoon we struck a
road which led us up a long, steep
hill The air grew cooler every mo-
ment as we toiled upward. We were
leaving the plains behind. | 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 us 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 We're 40 miles away.
At last, turning off upon a track
which branched 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 short two miles, for
the road was level again, and we
spun on at merry pace, at inter
walls meeting some relative of Jose's,
each man raising his hat with po-
lite Spanish greeting which I fear
was acknowledged very grimly by
me. for beneath the hats ! saw sharp
eyes peering suspiciously at my
equipment, and as we came in sight
of the little town and Jose whipped
up the mare to enter the place in
style l felt a 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 a gray adobe
dwelling, with the smallest windows
and largest door had ever seen, my
suspicious died away and gave place
to a feeling which I had not expe-
rienced for Inany months. Grouped
in the big doorway Of Jose's home
stead were half a dozen girls-girls
with soft brown eyes, delicate fea-
lures and trim little figures. The
tallest. / should suppose, would not
reach to the shoulder of well grown
English lassie. but the proportions