“Nor I, either,” added Gasbang.
“Nor I, neither,” said Hughes.
“Well, gentlemen,” said Don Mariano, rising, “I shall leave you now; you know my views, and you perhaps prefer to discuss them, and discuss your own among yourselves, and not in my presence. Take your time, and when you come to a final decision let me know. Perhaps I can advance the money to those of you who do not have it ready to purchase fencing lumber. I shall charge no interest, and give you plenty of time to pay.”
“I will do that, Señor Alamar,” Clarence said; “if the settlers agree to fence their lands, I will advance the money to them to put up their fences.”
“Yes, and if our crops fail, we will be in debt to the ears, with a chain around our necks,” Mathews growled.
“I thought you said that if it were not for my cattle, your crops would not have failed,” said Don Mariano, smiling.
“I said so, and it is so. But you see, that was before we had the ‘no fence’ law,” answered he, grinning.
Don Mariano shook hands with Clarence, whom he invited to call at his house—this invitation Clarence accepted with warm thanks—and followed by his sons and his friend Mr. Mechlin, Don Mariano took his leave, bowing to the settlers, who nodded and grinned in return.
“I suppose you, too, think the ‘no fence’ law iniquitous, as you appear to favor the aristocracy,” said Gasbang to Clarence.
“It is worse than that, it is stupid. Now it kills the cattle, afterwards it will kill the county,” Clarence answered.