By the time they reached Tres Pinos, which was the rendezvous of all the
vaqueros from the Picardo ranch on the north to San Miguel on the south,
Dade had quite lost the constraint that comes of feeling that one is
disliked and only tolerated for the moment. He whistled while he rode
along the creek bank looking for a comfortable camp site; and when
Valencia loped up to him, as he was hesitating over a broad, shaded
strip under a clump of willows, he turned and smiled upon his head
vaquero.
"See, Senor, how well we Californians work together!" cried Valencia,
pointing pridefully. "Here they come, the vaqueros from Agua Amargo,
Durasno, Corral de Terre, Salinas--not yet have our embaladors thrown
off the ropes from our packs, before they are here, these others whom we
came to meet! Not one hour late, even! And the word was given weeks ago
that we would meet this day."
From the mouth of the canyon trotted a band of saddle horses, kicking up
a dust cloud that filmed the picture made by the gay caballeros who
galloped behind. A gallant company were they; and when they met and
mingled with those who came down from the north, it was as though a
small army was giving itself a holiday in that vivid valley, with the
Tres Pinos gurgling at the fun.
Having had experience in these matters, Dade was able to do his part and
do it like a veteran, although he tactfully left to the other majordomos
all those little details that would make of the various camps one
orderly company.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182