Twenty fine half-bred Herefords did he
pick while I almost shed tears of blood, though all the time, of course,
I had to show a smiling face.
This sort of thing had been going on for some time, when one of the
boundary riders told me that the fence between the town and one of our
nearest paddocks had been cut during the night.
"Then mend it up," said I.
"Sir, it is mended already."
Not a week had passed before the same man brought me the same report. So
I determined to "parar rodeo" (round up the cattle) immediately, and
count them. Twenty heifers short in one square league, and in less than
a month! This thing had to stop. I told the Capataz to take the boundary
rider off that beat, without telling him why, and then the Capataz and I
patrolled the fence night after night for a week, during which it was
never cut.
We put a new boundary rider on, and three mornings later he came to see
me bright and early, saying that not only had the fence been cut, but
that there were distinct traces of cattle having passed out recently.
After assuring myself that there was no doubt about the matter, for I
found the hoof marks of what I calculated to be not less than twenty
animals, I went post haste to my friend the Chief of Police, never
doubting that after all the favours shown him he would prove a friend in
need.
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