the posts of the wire fences--a rustic decoration which suggested a
procession of Grecian lyres.

"It is lucky that the land is left, anyway!" added the ranchman.

He loved to race around his immense fields when they were beginning to
turn green in the late rains. He had been among the first to convert
these virgin wastes into rich meadow-lands, supplementing the natural
pasturage with alfalfa. Where one beast had found sustenance before, he
now had three. "The table is set," he would chuckle, "we must now go
in search of the guests." And he kept on buying, at ridiculous prices,
herds dying of hunger in others' uncultivated fields, constantly
increasing his opulent lands and stock.

One morning Desnoyers saved his life. The old ranchman had raised his
lash against a recently arrived peon who returned the attack, knife in
hand. Madariaga was defending himself as best he could, convinced
from one minute to another that he was going to receive the deadly
knife-thrust--when Desnoyers arrived and, drawing his revolver, overcame
and disarmed the adversary.

"Thanks, Frenchy," said the ranchman, much touched. "You are an
all-round man, and I am going to reward you. From this day I shall speak
to you as I do to my family."

Desnoyers did not know just what this familiar talk might amount to,
for his employer was so peculiar. Certain personal favors, nevertheless,
immediately began to improve his position. He was no longer allowed to
eat in the administration building, the proprietor insisting imperiously
that henceforth Desnoyers should sit at his own table, and thus he was