THE VAQUERO'S BOY.

Otago Witness, Issue 2051, 15 June 1893, Page 45

THE VAQUERO'S BOY.

A Tai/h fob the Boys. Little Juan's Shot from Moses's Rock.

Juan had seen bufc 14- summers, bufc, as became the son of the head vaquero, he could rope a steer with the ease and skill of an older hand, and his light rifle could crease a coyote wifch little effort at 50 yards. No man on the ranch could put as many bullets into a given space as little Juan, and the " boys " were proud of his prowess. The tales of Joaquin Muriefcfca and Vasquez thafc passed among the ranch hands and vaqueros of an evening had stirred his boyish ambitions, though nofc in emulation of fcheir achievements, for he longed more to follow in the footsteps of the two HarrysMorse and Love. These were days when vast herds grazed in the Livermore and San Ramon Valleys, and Juan's father's time was taken up in looking up the cattle of his employer aa they grazed in the latter valley, up the slopes and at the foot of Mt. Diablo. Often Juan would be in the saddle all day, helping with the herd, bufc offcener he tramped the canons in search of game, until every spot for miles around seemed a part of himself. Rumours had come from Concord way, on the other side of the mountain, of an important stage robbery, and that morning early, as the vaqueros started out for the day, they were instructed to keep a sharp lookout and report if any strangers were noticed in the foothills. Early in the afternoon Juan took his rifle for his usual rabbit hunt, bufc his thoughts wera more of bipeds than on the mess of rabbits he expected to bring home for the evening stow. Over toward the sulphur spring he tramped, and then climbed up the back of Moses's Rock half: way up tha mountain, and from its tall top, hidden in the brush that grew about ifc, he could watch the surrounding country for miles without being seen by those passing along the road near by. The day was getting ;on, and Juan was well tired as he stretched himself on the flat top of the rock ; but his tired feeling vanished as if by magic as he saw coming down the road a man who was strange to those parts— for Juan knew every face within miles of the valley. The stranger stopped [&t the bend in the road and drank from the little stream thafc flowed down the mountain beside ifc. Then Juan saw him enter the bushes at the edge of the road and lie down. The lad's heart was beating like a trip-hammer. He sighted along his rifle towards the prostrate figure, but he wouldjiofc cock ifc lest it might go off unintentionally through his nervousness. He could pufc lead through the stranger from his high perch with ease; but, then, how was he to know that this man was the one the "boys" had been ordered to look out for in the morning ? So he sat there and watched. The air in Pino Canon was hot and sultry. The hills on the other side of the valley were casting giant shadows, while Diablo's top was aglow as the red sunset was reflected againafc ifc. Moses's Rock, jutting full 30ft above the canon road, was wet from the tiny stream that always flowed from its top, and glistened in the red glow. Up the canon road could be heard a band of cattle clattering down the grade, and further back the voice of the vaquero breaking into song as he followed leisurely behind the straggling herd. By twos, by threes, and singly, the herd passed in review on the road beneath the rock, nofc 20ffc from ifc. Juan saw the man in the bushes rise and step close to the edge of the road. One of the cows shied to one side as she passed him round the bend. Juan felt in his heart that something was about to happen, and all his nervousness went from him. He shifted the barrel of his rifle over the edge of the rock and kept the big stranger on a line wifch ifcß muzzle. Presently the vaquero came into sight above the bend, with one leg thrown over the pommel of the saddle, singing in easy indolence an oldtime Spanish love song. Suddenly he pulled his horse almost off his feet, as the man sprang from the bushes and grasped the bridle. " I have the drop on you, my friend," a firm voice said. "I'll take fchafc horse, if you please." Bang ! A puff of smoke lifted from Moses's Rock, and the man at the horse's head threw his hands up with a cry, pitching headlong into the dußfc of fche road. As Martinez, the vaquero, looked up he saw a form sliding down fche slanting face of the rock, and presently the manzanifca bushes parted as little Juan stepped into the road. •'I got him, sure, padre mio. I have been watching him for over an hour." They lifted fche big man over the saddle and took him to the ranch-house. In his pockets were the remains of what was two days before the contents of one of Uncle Sam's mail bags. The ranch hands never tired of telling how little Juan shot the stage robber who was trying to steal his father's horse to get out of the country wifch; and Juan himself was happy in the thought that neither Harry Love nor Harry Morse was quicker on the trigger than he. — John Gram, in tho Ban Francisco News Letter.