Within a few months after my arrival at Las Palomas, there was a dance
at Shepherd's Ferry. There was no necessity for an invitation to such
local meets; old and young alike were expected and welcome, and a dance
naturally drained the sparsely settled community of its inhabitants from
forty to fifty miles in every direction. On the Nueces in 1875, the
amusements of the countryside were extremely limited; barbecues,
tournaments, and dancing covered the social side of ranch life, and
whether given up or down our home river, or north on the Frio, so they
were within a day's ride, the white element of Las Palomas could always
be depended on to be present, Uncle Lance in the lead.

Shepherd's Ferry is somewhat of a misnomer, for the water in the river
was never over knee-deep to a horse, except during freshets. There may
have been a ferry there once; but from my advent on the river there was
nothing but a store, the keeper of which also conducted a road-house
for the accommodation of travelers. There was a fine grove for picnic
purposes within easy reach, which was also frequently used for
camp-meeting purposes. Gnarly old live-oaks spread their branches like
a canopy over everything, while the sea-green moss hung from every limb
and twig, excluding the light and lazily waving with every vagrant
breeze. The fact that these grounds were also used for camp-meetings
only proved the broad toleration of the people. On this occasion I
distinctly remember that Miss Jean introduced a lady to me, who was the
wife of an Episcopal minister, then visiting on a ranch near Oakville,
and I danced several times with her and found her very amiable.

On receipt of the news of the approaching dance at the ferry, we set
the ranch in order. Fortunately, under seasonable conditions work on
a cattle range is never pressing. A programme of work outlined for a
certain week could easily be postponed a week or a fortnight for that