But the real interest centred in the marriage of Fidel and Juana, which took place at six o’clock the following evening.  Every one, including the native element, repaired to the new chapel to attend the wedding.  Uncle Lance and his sister had rivaled each other as to whether man or maid should have the better outfit.  Fidel was physically far above the average of the natives, slightly bow-legged, stolid, and the coolest person in the church.  The bride was in quite a flutter, but having been coached and rehearsed daily by her mistress, managed to get through the ordeal.  The young priest performed the ceremony, using his own native tongue, the rich, silvery accents of Spanish.  At the conclusion of the service, every one congratulated the happy couple, the women and girls in tears, the sterner sex without demonstration of feeling.  When we were outside the chapel, and waiting for our sweethearts to dry their tears and join us, Uncle Lance came swaggering’ over to John Cotton and me, and, slapping us both on the back, said:—­

“Boys, that rascal of a Fidel has a splendid nerve.  Did you notice how he faced the guns without a tremor; never batted an eye but took his medicine like a little man.  I hope both of you boys will show equally good nerve when your turn comes.  Why, I doubt if there was a ranger in the whole squad, unless it was that red-headed rascal who kissed the bride, who would have stood the test like that vaquero—­without a shiver.  And it’s something you can’t get used to.  Now, as you all know, I’ve been married three times.  The first two times I was as cool as most, but the third whirl I trembled all over.  Quavers ran through me, my tongue was palsied, my teeth chattered, my knees knocked together, and I felt like a man that was sent for and couldn’t go.  Now, mind you, it was the third time and I was only forty-five.”

What a night that was!  The contents of the warehouse had been shifted, native musicians had come up from Santa Maria, and every one about the home ranch who could strum a guitar was pressed into service.  The storeroom was given over to the natives, and after honoring the occasion with their presence as patrons, the master and mistress, after the opening dance, withdrew in company with their guests.  The night had then barely commenced.  Claiming two guitarists, we soon had our guests waltzing on veranda, hall, and spacious dining-room to the music of my fiddle.  Several of the rangers could play, and by taking turns every one had a joyous time, including the two priests.  Among the Mexicans the dancing continued until daybreak.  Shortly after midnight our guests retired, and the next morning found all, including the priests, preparing to take their departure.  As was customary, we rode a short distance with our guests, bidding them again to Las Palomas and receiving similar invitations in return.  With the exception of Captain Byler, the rangers were the last to take their leave.  When the mules were packed and their mounts saddled, the old ranchero extended them a welcome whenever they came that way again.