One thing may be noted here. A cattle-ranch is not, like a good mine or many another source of wealth, able to afford extravagant management. To a very large extent, the money made in cattle is money saved. Cattle-ranches will not always pay handsome dividends if called upon to support fancy managers, separate establishments for hands and master, tribes of servants, four-in-hands, trotters, good cellars and cooks, etc., etc. They may do this when cattle are "booming," but the fluctuations in the value of stock are enormous, and periods of depression recur at intervals, when even the economic ranchero finds difficulty in making both ends meet.
Where were we, though? At supper! My progress will be representable by some such eccentric tracing of involved curves and turns, as Sterne used to illustrate his advance in "Tristram Shandy."
"Which of you boys shot this antelope?" inquired the Colonel, helping himself to a steak.
"Her," answered Joe laconically, nodding towards Squito.
"Are you a good shot, Squito?" I asked.
"Well, I should rather say she was!" rejoined the Colonel, whilst the boys chuckled quietly. "She can knock the spots out of these boys at that game."
"That's what she can," assented Joe good-humouredly; "she can whip us the worst kind. She's liable to whip a'most any stranger that comes along, too," and he smiled significantly at me.
Rafaeleta, meanwhile, turned fresh steaks in the frying-pan, and paid no heed to the conversation.
"Where did you kill the antelope, Squito?" inquired Don Cabeza.