“Well, now, Tony,” said my employer, “this is crowding the mourners just a trifle, but Las Palomas was never called on in a good cause but she could lend a man or two, even if they had to get up from the dinner table and go hungry. I don’t suppose the trial will last over a day or two at the furthest, and even if it did, the boys could ride home in the night. In our first bunch and in half a day, we’ll gather every beef in two rodeos and start that evening. Steamships won’t wait, and if we were a day behind time, they might want to hold out demurrage on us. If it wasn’t for that, the boys could stay a week and you would be welcome to them. Of course, Tom will want to go, and about the next best man I could suggest would be June. I’d like the best in the world to go myself, but you see how I’m situated, getting these cattle off and a new tank building at the same time. Now, you boys make your own arrangements among yourselves, and this ranch stands ready to back up anything you say or do.” Tony remained overnight, and we made arrangements to meet him, either at Shepherd’s the evening before or in Oakville on the morning of the trial. Owing to the behavior of Quayle and Cotton, none of us had attended the celebration of San Jacinto Day at the ferry. Nor had any one from the Vaux or McLeod ranches, for while they did not understand the situation, it was obvious that something was wrong, and they had remained away as did Las Palomas. But several of Hunter’s friends from the San Miguel had been present, as likewise had Oxenford, and reports came back to the ranch of the latter’s conduct and of certain threats he had made when he found there was no one present to resent them. The next morning, before starting home, Tony said to our _segundo_ and myself;— “Then I’ll depend on you two, and I may have a few other friends who will want to attend. I don’t need very many for a coward like Jack Oxenford. He is perfectly capable of abusing an unprotected woman, or an old man if he had a crowd of friends behind to sick him on. Oh, he’s a cur all right; for when I told him that he was whelped under a house, he never resented it. He loves me all right, or has good cause to. Why, I bent the cylinder pin of a new six-shooter over his head when he had a gun on him, and he forgot to use it. I don’t expect any trouble, but if you don’t look a sneaking cur right in the eye, he may slip up behind and bite you.”