"To-morrow they will be higher. It's just a matter of arithmetic, Fernando. There are seventeen million less cattle in the country than there were eight years ago. The government reports say so. Our population is steadily increasing. The people must eat. Since there are fewer cattle they must pay more for their meat. We shall have meat to sell. Is that not simple?"
"Si, Doña, but——"
"But in the main we have always been sheep-herders, so we ought always to be? We'll run cattle and sheep, too, Fernando. We'll make this ranch pay as it never has before."
"But the feed—the winter feed, Señorita?"
"We'll have to raise our feed. I'm going to send for engineers and find what it will cost to impound water in the cordilleras and run ditches into the valley. We ought to be watering thousands of acres for alfalfa and grain that now are dry."
"It never has been done—not in the time of Don Alvaro or even in that of Don Bartolomé."
"And so you think it never can?" she asked, with a smile.
"The Rio Chama Valley is grazing land. It is not for agriculture. Everybody knows that," he insisted doggedly.
"Everybody knows we were given two legs with which to walk, but it is an economy to ride. So we use horses."
Fernando shrugged his shoulders. Of what use to argue with the doña when her teeth were set? She was a Valdés, and so would have her way.