The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1940-09-20


the leading horseman in salute.
Bowie held up his hand deprecating-
ly.
mo habla espanol," he ex-
claimed, rising and realizing at once
that he had a gentleman to deal
with.
"Ah! Rusos?" asked the Califor-
MAN pleasantly.
Bowie understood that much. He
shook his head.
''No?" Questioned the horseman
again. "Then Yanquis?"
Again Bowie comprehended but
denied more vigorously.
"Que mas?" asked the puzzled
stranger, though still politely.
Still shaking his head, Bowie tried
to explain. "Sorry, but can't speak
Spanish"
"Ho! Americanos!"
''Texans!' exclaimed Bowie with
emphasis. ''Not Yankees"
"Ah, understand"
"You speak English"
IA little, senior. I have heard Of
your Texans. Brave fellows even
though they do not get on with their
Mexican brothers"
Again Bowie dissented vigorous
ly. "Not brothers, senor!"
The don was not to be ruffled.
''Neighbors, then, If you like" he
suggested good-naturedly.
''Neighbors,, senior. But for Tex
ans, bad neighbors.
The visitor shrugged his Shout
ders. "Have it as you will, amigo.
A Mexican, of course, might tell
another story. But you are, besides
Texans, travellers and evidently pre-
pairing to spend the night al fresco.
This gives me some concern. be-
cause it is certain to rain before
morning, and rain will find you much
exposed. And when it rains here it
is likely to rain-what do they say
in Texas?-pitchforks."
| While the Californian spoke he sat
his horse with the ease of one sea-
soned to the high-peaked Spanish
saddle. His trappings were elabo-
rate; the eyes of the two scouts were
| glued on them. Saddle and bride
were richly chased in silver.
Bowie, without overlooking these
| things of interest, paid closer at
| tention to the horseman himself. He
was young and dandified-it was just
his unaffected good nature that
checked in the. rough-and-ready
Bowie any feeling of resentment at
his highly particular rig.
His hat, with it's low crown and
broad, straight, severe brim,
seemed in keeping with the dignity
| of the wearer. His aspect was dark,
but his mustachios, the most COM
| nanding of his rather small fea-
lures, were of contrasting lighter
color and lent something agreeable
to the frank, open expression of his
eyes. His voice, as he chatted, was
pleasant. hA
The youth wore short dark bo-
lero jacket heavily embroidered in
silver and knee breaches edged be-
low with silver lace. His soft buck
skin leggings were highly but pleas
ingly stamped with the fanciful de-
vices of a Mexican artisan. From
head to foot he presented a picture
of distinction and detail, yet he was
quite simple in manner.
81 see," said the Californian pres
emily. 'You are hunters"
'That's why we are heading for
the hills" explained Bowie, ''to
bring in some game-and," he added
jokingly, among other things, to
buy some salt"
81 love to hunt" returned the don.
"And nothing I like better than the
hunters supper out in the open, like
this. In fact, confess it was envy
that turned me up this way when I
saw the fire and the party, though
I was far from being in hunters
rig myself"
"Where," asked Bowie, Ibid you
learn so much English?"
81 have sister married to Bos-
ton man, a ship-owner. ! had two
years at Georgetown University"
Georgetown! / had one year
| there myself" said Bowie. MAY I
ask your name?"
francisco Estradillo; and yours,
senor?"
Henry Bowie. I'm a long way
from Texas. This is Ben Pardaloe,
and this is Simmie."
Francisco nodded. "My uncle,
Don Ramon Estrada, lives not far
from here-about ten miles. I am
visiting him. You are on his rancho.
You tell me you are hunting. Day
after tomorrow we are to have a
hunt at the rancho. You should join
us. Comet Why sleep out tonight?
Come with me to Don Ramon's."
The Estrada rancho, a royal
grant, embraced a tract eleven
leagues by eleven leagues. The two
story ranch house crowned the brow
of a gentle rise in the fertile Santa
Clara Valley and looked toward the
distant heights of Santa Ysabel.
To the north of the ranch house a