Don Mariano had been for some years under the lash of the maternal government, whom he had found a cruel stepmother, indeed.
As it was arranged with Clarence, the meeting would take place that day on the broad piazza of John Gasbang's house, this being the most central point in the rancho.
The heads of families all came—the male heads, be it understood—as the squatters did not make any pretence to regard female opinion, with any more respect than other men.
All the benches and chairs that the house contained, with the exception of Mrs. Gasbang's sewing rocker, had been brought to the porch, which was quite roomy and airy.
At ten minutes before two, all the settlers were there, that is to say, all the old men, with their elder sons.
Clarence, Romeo, Tom and Jack, sat together in a corner, conversing in low tones, while Gasbang was entertaining his guests with some broad anecdotes, which brought forth peals of laughter.
At five minutes to two, Señor Alamar, accompanied by Mr. Mechlin, arrived in a buggy; his two sons followed on horseback.
Clarence had time to look at them leisurely, while they dismounted, and tied their horses to a hitching post.
“They are gentlemen, no doubt,” observed Clarence.
“You bet they are,” Romeo coincided. Evidently he admired and liked them.