He had
killed Indians, was twice wounded by them, and for a while had lived as
a captive with an Indian chief whom he finally succeeded in making his
staunch friend. With his earnings, he had bought land, much land, almost
worthless because of its insecurity, devoting it to the raising of
cattle that he had to defend, gun in hand, from the pirates of the
plains.
Then he had married his China, a young half-breed who was running around
barefoot, but owned many of her forefathers' fields. They had lived in
an almost savage poverty on their property which would have taken many a
day's journey to go around. Afterwards, when the government was pushing
the Indians towards the frontiers, and offering the abandoned lands
for sale, considering it a patriotic sacrifice on the part of any one
wishing to acquire them, Madariaga bought and bought at the lowest
figure and longest terms. To get possession of vast tracts and populate
it with blooded stock became the mission of his life. At times,
galloping with Desnoyers through his boundless fields, he was not able
to repress his pride.
"Tell me something, Frenchy! They say that further up the country, there
are some nations about the size of my ranches. Is that so?" . . .
The Frenchman agreed. . . . The lands of Madariaga were indeed greater
than many principalities. This put the old plainsman in rare good humor
and he exclaimed in the cowboy vernacular which had become second nature
to him--"Then it wouldn't be absurd to proclaim myself king some day?
Just imagine it, Frenchy;--Don Madariaga, the First.
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