"As e'er beneath a waning moon was hauntedBy woman wailing for her demon lover."
"As e'er beneath a waning moon was hauntedBy woman wailing for her demon lover."
"As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon lover."
Here, if anywhere, it seemed that the old mythical people of the woods, and mountains, and streams—the nymphs, the fauns, and satyrs, and other damsels and gentry of irregular habits and questionable record that were once the fashion, must have retreated. But if they had done so, like "ole Brer Rabbit," they "lay low." No nymph, with scanty costume and dishevelled tresses, sprang from the long grass and fled at our approach. No satyr appeared and faded from sight amidst the aged trunks. We were alone, apparently.
At length we reached the spot where it wasdecided that we should camp; the stream that we had followed was joined here by another, and three cañons debouched upon a little open space, trefoil-shaped. It was too late to start on a tramp, so the close of the afternoon was spent in catching fish. How did we catch them?—we had neither tackle nor nets. Well, we exploded a bit of giant powder in the midst of a shoal, and that is the shameful truth of it. It was the only possible means at hand of getting them, and the Colonel had set his affections on a fry for that evening. The confession is disgraceful, but the crime was partly expiated by our having to strip and wade into the icy water, in that deep corner in the rocks, after sundown, in order to collect the stunned fish that floated on the surface.
Hunting, as has been remarked, proved a failure. The size of our party, though it ensured our own safety, militated against our success. Moreover, not very long before, a band of native scouts had spent three days here, and killed over a hundred deer. My most vivid recollections of the trip, therefore, are connected with the evenings that we spent round the camp-fire. A steep amphitheatre of hills surrounded us, overspread by jewelled skies as serene and blue asthe deepest coral seas; at an hour that grew later and later, the red moon stole up over the jagged ridges and shed its gorgeous light on the scene; a hundred yards off, on ground below us, were the quarters of the men, and their camp-fires flashed and twinkled amidst the cotton-woods, their laughter and choruses reached us pleasantly on the night air.
Oh, the songs that were sung, and the tales that were told, the yarns that were spun, and the jokes that were cracked in those few nights! "Old songs," you say, "that we had each sung hundreds of times before, and should have thought intolerably wearisome had we heard them on one another's lips! Tales for which we were each prepared, and of which we had sometimes even to remind one another in order that the lawful owners should dispense them! Yarns which only the narrator believed, and that, probably, only from force of repetition! And jokes—God save the mark!—mellow already when they were cracked in the fo'k'sle of the ark!" Likely enough, gentle cynic. There is nothing new; the freshest lily is as old as the world. The "merry jest" may, as Andrew Lang sings, descend to us from some Aryan brain. But the laughter is our own, and that is all that concerns us.
"Hand me the canteen again, then," says the Major, as with his swarthy face beaming joyously in the fire-light, he stands moistening the sugar for a second round of toddies, in obedience to a general request. "You boys remind me of the fellow who said that, 'When he had taken one drink it always made him feel like another man, and then, of course, in common politeness he felt obliged to treat the other man.'"
A general laugh followed the Major's sally.
"Do you remember Bat Hogan, at Georgetown, Major?—a fellow with a hare-lip," asked Huse.
"Bat Hogan? Yes—every cold night that I miss the pair of Navajo blankets he stole from me."
"Bat came in up there from a long drive on the stage one night, and got hold of the whisky-bottle and a tumbler at the bar. Well, sir, he poured himself out a full glass of it. 'Say! that ain't cider, you know,' said the bar-tender. 'I shoul' hope no',' said Bat. 'I woul'n't drink tha' much cider for a thousan' dollars.'"
A score of similar anecdotes succeeded this one. The Colonel stroked his beard, removed his cigar deliberately, pausing every now and then as deliberatelyat exciting junctures to keep it alight, and reeled off a few; and by degrees the conversation drifted on to cards and gambling.
"Were you there, Colonel, the night that the fellows put that job up on Mills' partner?" asked F.
"Why, of course I was. Didn't Tom Templeton come down to the 'Depôt' to tell us about it? It was the night that that dance was going on there,—when Skippy said that when old Mac danced he put on so much style that 'he only touched on the high places as he floated round the room.'"
"Ah! and nearly got a six-shooter rammed down his throat for it, too!"
"Well, Tom came down just in the middle of that business, and told us all that they were going to have a game with—what was his name, anyhow?"
"Cuff."
"Old Cuff, yes."
"What was it?" asked some of us.
"Well, Mills and Cuff had a saloon and a faro-bank up town, in Deming," said the Colonel. "Mills was a smart fellow, and a square man, too; but old Cuff was a sort of drivelling old jackass, only fit to sit under the stoop in front of the house, and givethe time of day to the passers by. However, he wanted to do things—he would deal at faro, and he would meddle in this, that, and the other, until Mills was very often so mad that he could have taken him by the heels and dusted the ornaments with him. One day he got half-a-dozen tin-horn gamblers together, and between them they put up a cold deck[36]in a faro-box. Then, when there was nothing particular going on, Mills gave up his place as dealer to Cuff, and rung in the new box on him. Well, the tin-horns were there in a body, with a few stacks of chips,[37]playing light—waiting for the deal, you see—and as soon as Cuff took his place they began doubling up, and doubling up, and just sousing it to him red-hot. Before half the deal was over, the whole bank of checks was gone, and Cuff was giving markers for hundreds as hard as he could go it. At the end of the deal he was about nine thousand dollars out. And, by gosh! you never saw a man in such a state in your life! The perspiration rolled off him in streams; he began laughing andcrying like an idiot. I thought he was going to choke once."
"How did it all end?"
"Oh, the boys kept him on the 'anxious seat' for two or three days, and that cured him. He never wanted to deal any more; he would hardly believe that theyhadbeen joshing him, when they did tell him the truth."
"Talking about 'tin-horns,' Frank Therman used to tell a good yarn," observed the Major presently. "Dick Miller came to him one afternoon, and said, 'Look here, Frank! I've got a dead sure thing on—can't lose! I want you to lend me fifty dollars to work it with.' Frank gave him the money—hedidn't care anyhow, he'd stake anybody. Pretty soon, in came Jim Baker. 'Say, old pard! do you want to stake me with fifty dollars?—it's a real good investment—can't help winning.' 'What's on?' asked Frank. 'Oh, some suckers want to play poker.' He got his fifty dollars, and quit. Just as soon as he had gone, in came Dutch Henry. 'I vas joost looking for you, Fr-r-ank,' says he. 'I hef got something so goot vat a man vants.' 'The —— you have! Have you caught a sucker too?' 'Sucker! Ven you poot'im in zer son, he ron vays—melt, I min!' 'You don't want that,' said Frank. 'No—no, zir!—you pet! Look here, Frenk, olt man! I got no tollars—von't you lent me a feefty-tollar pill?' Well, he got his fifty-dollar 'pill,' and he hadn't been gone long before Smiling Moses appeared. 'Frank, old pard! I just want fifty dollars for an hour or two—give it to you again to-night. I've got a "soft snap" on—can't miss it.' 'You don't say!' said Frank. 'Well, I'll be good — —, if those quail showers your tribe used to catch in the wilderness were in it with our sucker storms! Here's your bill! go right along and make an independent fortune while you can.' Well, Smiling Moses skinned out, and the more Frank got to thinking of it, the more he couldn't make out what in —— had come to town to make the boys so busy. So as there was very little faro play going on, he left Moore to deal, and strolled out to look round a bit. He went into the 'Corral'—there were none of his men there. He looked into the 'Ranch' and the 'Mine'—devil a sign of them. He went pretty well all round town, and, finally, it occurred to him to drop into a little 'dive' on Jim Street. He walked through the bar and pushed the card-room door open. And there theywere, sir, playing poker together—all four of them! Each tin-horn with the most profound contempt for the others' skill. I think that's a delightful bit of satire on humanity."
"Moore tells a tale of the old Mississippi steamer days that isn't bad," said W. "A tender-foot got in amongst the gamblers on board one of the boats once, and what with 'strippers,' and 'stocking,' and 'cold decks,' and 'bugs,' and 'reflectors,' and 'codes,' and so forth, he hadn't the ghost of a show. They played him to h—l and gone in a very short time. It was a regular case of 'Shuf', dad, shuf'! it's all you'll get.' They soon cleaned him out. Well, walking round the deck afterwards, thinking it over quietly, he found a ten-dollar bill left in one of his pockets, which he had forgotten, and rushed back at once to the saloon with it. 'Boys,' he shouted, 'I want to bet this ten-dollar bill that I can whistle louder than the engine.' 'Oh, quit!' they said; 'if you've got ten dollars left, freeze on to it. Don't throw it away in any such fooling.' 'That'll be all right,' he said, 'I know what I'm about; I'll bet, anyhow.' So finally one of them took him up, and they went outside to see the fun. The chap, he got up on oneof the paddle-boxes, and asked the captain to let off the whistle. Well, he just turned her loose, and there was a shriek that you might have heard in China. Of course the 'tender-foot' wasn't in it. However, he didn't seem disappointed. He came down, and paid his bill cheerfully enough. 'You can laugh, boys,' he said quietly, 'but I'll be durned if that ain't the squarest deal I've had on board yet.'"
My stay in Animas Valley was drawing to a close when I returned to the Gray Place one afternoon, bringing with me an antelope that I had shot, and having parted with Jake, who had followed a fresh trail down into the Skeleton Cañon, to turn back a small band of cattle that were straying in that direction. The house was empty. Don Cabeza had gone over to the neighbouring camp to chat with the officers; Murray and Joe were still out; and Squito was not seated, as was generally the case, on the bench by the door, her curly black head bent over a dime novel. While I was yet in the distance, I had noticed her little figure on one of the hillocks behind the house, where she would often stand for an hour at a time, shading her eyes, and scanningthe valley for "old man Murray," of whom she was passionately fond. But she had vanished now. Unsaddling my horse, I turned him loose to join his fellows on thecienega, and, lighting a cigarette, strolled up towards Squito's favourite coigne of observation to enjoy the stillness which the great expanse of the view from thence seemed to accentuate always.
The sky was fretted with the faint fires of a sunset, delicate in its colours as pale orchids—colours that might have been conceived by a fairy, and broadcast by a gale. The soft air mused and mused in the dry crowsfoot gramma grass that clothed the country, making a music that seemed a very air-treasured echo and tradition of sweet old-world sounds become transiently audible again in the silence of the moment. From the yellow slopes around its base, old Animas towered king-like above the valley; and dim blue, mystic peaks and crests, like a company of ghosts, low down on the horizon to the south, marked the commencement of the Sierra Madre.
I was surmounting the brow of the first knoll, when involuntarily I stopped. In a little hollow before me, Squito was dancing by herself—a dance that probably had its origin in some old Spanishbolero, seen by her in her early childhood, and partly retained in memory. But the gestures, poses, motive and method of the dance were her own, and it seemed that her mind was filled with some theme as she danced. The hot blood of her race had sway over her, and totally unconscious of my presence (for only my head and shoulders were visible, and these partly concealed amidst cacti and rocks), she abandoned herself entirely to the impulse of the moment. The slant, rosy gleams from heaven played upon her, as she danced, partly in light and partly in shadow, turning and swaying, and swiftly moving over the little flat that served her for a floor. Pliant as a willow wand, lissom as a rabbit, her light form changed its poise rapidly or slowly, but always with swimming ease and continuity of motion. Where did her actions begin—where end? It was impossible to say. They were, and they were not. They came, they passed away; merged into one another, but measurable, distinctly, as little as is the sound of something that travels. With steps small, or for a moment boldly prolonged, she came and went. And now her little figure seemed to dilate with passion, now droop in exquisite languor, her arms and head moving in unisonwith the spirit of her mood—beseeching now, now beckoning, scoffing, defying, imperiously commanding.
Oh, Squito, Squito! how many apremière danseusewould pledge her jewels to acquire a tithe of the natural gift that you possess, of the very existence of which you cannot be said to be fully conscious, and the evidence of which, only old Animas, and the cacti, and the scored, purple boulders of the hills, or, perchance, a select circle of cow-boy familiars are permitted to witness.
Breathless she paused, her brown eyes flashing fire, and in a second she caught sight of me. She started, halted, then turned precipitously and fled. From that moment until when I left, a few days later, she never addressed me unless forced to do so, and then only in the brusquest monosyllables. However, when the Colonel and I were preparing to start, she hovered round us restlessly for some time, and finally conquered her shyness sufficiently to speak to me.
"The boys say that you're going down into Mexico—Chihuahua and there?"
"Yes, I shall run down there again shortly, Squito."
"Likely you'll see Sam somewheres."
"Sam? Who is Sam?"
"Sam," she repeated simply, in the glorious egotism of first love taking it for granted that all the world knew her Sam. "Sam Rider, who used to work in the Animas," and her increasing confusion suddenly reminded me of the man she had taken up the cudgels for, on my first evening in the valley, and who I had since heard had got into some shooting scrape and fled into Mexico.
"Oh, yes, I remember—of course."
"Won't you give him a message for me?"
"Certainly, if I see him. What can I tell him for you?"
"Tell him—tell him——" and hesitating painfully, with a world of trouble in her marvellous eyes, the child looked up at me earnestly. The colour had faded from her face, all its lines were exquisitely softened, and as she smiled apologetically her lips just trembled. "Tell him you seen me—and—and—tell him I told yer to say so. Will you?—please. He said he'd write."
"I'll tell him, Squito. Anything else?"
"No—he knows," she murmured almost inaudibly, turning her crimson face aside.
"Good-bye, then."
"Good-bye," and she moved away rapidly.
But as we drove off, we saw the little figure in its broad leaf hat, on the hillock behind the house, watching us. And as long as we were in sight it remained there.
FOOTNOTES:[35]Why is this? Americans lack neither imagination nor artistic feeling.[36]To "ring in a cold deck" is to order in and substitute a fresh pack, in which the cards are prearranged.[37]Counters.
[35]Why is this? Americans lack neither imagination nor artistic feeling.
[35]Why is this? Americans lack neither imagination nor artistic feeling.
[36]To "ring in a cold deck" is to order in and substitute a fresh pack, in which the cards are prearranged.
[36]To "ring in a cold deck" is to order in and substitute a fresh pack, in which the cards are prearranged.
[37]Counters.
[37]Counters.
We were seated at dusk on the platform outside the Depôt or railway hotel at Deming, enjoying what the Colonel called: "A feast of reason, and a flow of souls." "We" consisted of the Colonel himself, Joe,[38]a life-long friend of his and an old friend of my own also, Navajo Bill, and myself. The Colonel had just returned from Silver City, Joe had just broken a journey from New York to San Francisco to visit us, and I had just returned from Chihuahua City viâ El Paso. As for Bill, with a vague smile flickering on the end of his nose and muzzle—an unengaged smile, waiting for a job as it were, he was merely "standing around" on the chance of the Colonel saying: "Navajo, here's two-and-a-half for you. Go and get drunk."
Who was Navajo? Ah, "that's where you've got me, young man." Heaven knows! I don't think Navajo aspired to have as much identity as that question would imply. He was a sort of odd-man-out-of-place. He had a little shanty up town, and a kind of costermonger's barrow, in which he used to "take the air" with Mrs. Navajo, a lady who looked as if she had been born and bred to make him a suitable wife. Bill had no particular profession. He "went trips" if any one wanted him to. He could drive a team, cook indifferently, was cheerful, obliging, a fair worker, had good pluck, long hair, a queer amusing smile, a gutta-percha physiognomy, a fund of quaint sayings, and altogether was a good man to "have along" on a trip. At present, as the Colonel was suffering a good deal from rheumatism, he attended him as valet and rubber. Bill, with equal confidence, would have undertaken to manage a bank, or transact a diplomatic mission to the Court of St. James.
The Colonel "had the floor," and was referring to his visit to Silver City. "And whilst they were knocking the sawdust out of thePirates of Penzanceall these amateurs—every man and woman in Silverthat could squawk, in fact—Lindauer, and Louis Timmer, and Judge Falby, and I, we played pool."
"It isn't everybody thatcouldplay pool, while thePirates of Penzancewere catching it like that," commented Joe severely.
"Eh? what does Joe say? Oh, well, Nero fiddled while Rome was burning, and we didn't see why we shouldn't be just as cruel as Nero if we liked. Anyhow——"
"A letter for you, Colonel!" said the hall porter, approaching.
The Colonel arose, and producing hispince-nezglasses, drew near the light that streamed from the hotel door, to glance through the papers contained in the envelope.
"I guess it's only to say that some of your old ranch houses have been burnt by the Apaches, or that your old cows have got 'black-leg' or something," remarked Joe grimly.
"A judgment, likely, for fiddling when the Pirates was a-catching it so," suggested Bill, with a grin.
"That's it," chuckled Joe; "that's it, no doubt!"
"Navajo, can you make corn bread?" asked the Colonel, returning to his seat.
"Corn bread, Colonel! I can make it so a dog can't eat it."
"You can, eh? Well, that settles it. Youshallcome, then. Go away up to Holgate's stables, and tell them to have the waggon and team ready to-morrow at midday—you see yourself that it is properly greased—and see that three days' feed of corn are put in for the horses, too. I am going down into Mexico."
"And perhaps you won't mind telling us where we come in, in all this? What is going to happen to us?" inquired Joe, with some asperity.
"You will both come too," replied the Colonel calmly.
"To Mexico?"
"Yes."
"Well, we don't want to know your business, of course—we're not asking who your letter is from, or what it's about—we don't want to know how little you gave, or how much you got, but we should just like to know wherewe're going to in Mexico, andwhatwe're going for? Are we going to 'make a killing,' or to buy a ranch, or only to steal some cattle? And what's the matter with our stopping here, and living comfortably, until you get back?"
"You won't stop here, you'll come right along with me, both of you; and I don't want you to give me any trouble about it, now! Travel improves the mind, and enlarges the ideas. You shall come and study the sister republic, and Navajo and I will introduce you into society down there. If you're smart, youmaycatch aseñoritawith a big ranch before we get back."
"Where are we going to?"
"The Corralitos ranch. The agreement has just come back from El Paso, accepting the final offer that I made for between two and three thousand yearling and two-year-old Corralitos steers, and I must go down and receive them."
The restaurant at the Depôt was the rendezvous, at meal-times, of all the high-toned people in Deming. When we left the hotel after the mid-day dinner, therefore, to mount the light waggon in which Navajo sat, curbing the impetuosity of our corn-inspired plugs, with a magnificent assumption of conscious importance, thehabituésof this frontier Bignon's, armed with tooth-picks and unlit cigars, assembled on the platform to bid farewell to the Colonel. Many a good-humoured sally ensued at his expense, but inno wise disconcerted, he returned shot for shot, as he walked round the waggon and inspected it, expressed his usual surprise that he should be the only man in New Mexico capable of packing a waggon properly, had the blankets, grain, provisions, cooking utensils, Winchesters, and other baggage taken out, replaced it all with his own hands, and finally mounting the box seat, gathered up the whip and reins.
Joe was taking a light for his cigar from one of the bystanders. "Joe isn't ready yet," observed Don Cabeza in a pleasantly ironic way, glancing at the mammoth shoulders that were rounded over the cigar-light. Joe vouchsafed no response. "But give him time," pursued his tormentor more cheerfully, "give him time and he'll get there. Joe will never diesuddenly."
The old "forty-niner" approached the waggon with a withering glance at the repacked cargo.
"Have you shown them all how you can pack?" he asked dryly.
"Yes."
"Then we're where we were before, I guess—ready to start again, eh?"
"Exactly."
"Ugh!" And Joe silently mounted, and amidst a shower of "good-byes," we drove off.
They were types, these two. Though nothing delighted them more than systematically to contradict and pooh-pooh one another, to less intimate acquaintances they were the essence of kindness and chivalrous courtesy; and let any onecoincidewith them when they spoke slightingly of one another, and he would soon find that he had unconsciously undertaken to whip a dogged-looking giant, over six feet high in his socks, and, without being in the least degree stout, apparently about four feet broad across the shoulders.
The Corralitos ranch lay between seventy and eighty miles over the border, in Chihuahua, in Mexico, and was a hundred and ten miles from Deming. The first day's drive to Smith's Wells was only eighteen miles. Thence to Ascension was an easy two days' drive, over a somewhat heavy road. On the fourth day Corralitos was reached early in the afternoon. Between Smith's Wells and Ascension, it was necessary to camp out on the Boca Grande River.
The gradual settling up of waste lands in the United States had already begun to turn attentiontowards Northern Mexico, when railway promoters recognised a fresh field in it for their enterprise. But until the lines they projected to connect it with the railway systems of the States were completed, properties purchased there were comparatively worthless. Now the aspect of things is changed; land is rising rapidly in value; and the probability that the magnificent provinces which compose the upper tier of the Mexican provinces will eventually become incorporated with the United States gathers strength each day. American politicians still scout this notion. But it must be remembered that such men are for the most part politicians by profession—theorists unaffected by the interests, and ignorant of the influences that sway the masses, not business men engaged in every walk of life and practically cognisant, therefore, of the questions submitted to them.
To judge fairly on such a subject as the one now broached, look at the map, contrast the characters, condition, strength, and relative rates of advance of the two peoples concerned; above all, gather the views of the American cattle-men, miners, traders, and railway stock-holders, of the large landowners (foreign, American,and Mexican) interested in theconsummation of the union referred to, for these are the people who intend to bring it about.
It is idle to talk of justice and the obligations of honour in days when the hereditary right of a people to valuable land is hardly recognised, certainly not respected, unless they make good that right by cultivation. On all sides we see the traditions of law in this respect disregarded. Land would appear to belong in reality to those who most want it—to those who can render the best account of it. The tenure of the sluggard is on sufferance only. Even the strong, conservative, but unprofitable oak yields place to the seeded corn-stalk. And where Yankee enterprise and British tenacity have penetrated, and are busy, the rule of Mexican sloth is doomed. The Eastern politician may say that the annexation referred to is impossible, that the United States has land enough, and does not require any part of Mexico. But a nation is as little able to control its growth as a child. How much of what was once Mexican soil lies now within the borders of the United States? What were once California, Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas? How many are the sacred contracts that the Washington Government has entered into, to respect thereservations of the Indians? Yet one by one these reservations have been redeemed by the plough, or overrun by the horned hosts of the cattle king. And now, in travelling through the States, one frequently hears indignant protests uttered against the Government for "giving" (!) the Indians the little land which still remains in their possession.
As a matter of fact, there is no unoccupied cattle-range of any importance left in the States. The range there is absolutely diminishing, since in many places it is being, or already has been, eaten out. The ranchero in overcrowded Texas, in full New Mexico, and dry Arizona looks over the border and sees in Northern Mexico a vast cattle country, superior to anything that the States ever possessed, still comparatively unused, in the hands of drones for whom he has an undisguised contempt, and under the dominion of a weak and corrupt Government. What does he care about the political feelings of his rulers, or the diplomatic difficulties of annexation!
Side by side with the temptation afforded by this splendid grazing, lies another, equally powerful, but affecting a different class of men, namely, the evidence of greater mineral wealth than was discovered evenin California. The conclusion arrived at many years ago by Humboldt, that in these States would eventually be found the richest mineral deposits in the world, seems likely to be verified. And has the Government at Washington ever shown signs of the qualities that would be necessary to preserve Mexico from absorption by the American people under these circumstances?
The "Government!" The Government will have little voice in the matter. In the United States more than in any other country, is the so-called Government merely an institution for formulating, and shedding a legal glamour over the wishes of the masses. It deals with and rounds off accomplished facts; it does not initiate movements, and dictate them to the people. The duty of Government in this case will be to arrange some scheme of purchase to tickle the national conscience and soften the aspect of the transaction, whilst none the less enabling the United States troops to remain in Northern Mexico when once a revolution has given them an opportunity of "crossing the border to protect their fellow citizens." Talleyrand once said indignantly: "On s'empare des couronnes, mais on ne les escamote pas."Things have changed since he lived; the latter course now fits far better with our temper.
If there is any cause for surprise in this matter, it lies in the fact that Mexico should have remained isolated so long—that so shiftless a race should have retained their independence in so rich a country. This is due not a little to the ill success which attended the earlier speculations there of American capitalists. The causes of this ill success were various. A prejudice originated in Mexico against Americans during the war, and the behaviour of the "rustlers" and malefactors of all kinds, who, flying from justice in the States, have been accustomed to seek refuge in the sister republic since then, has kept this feeling alive. Even the better class of Americans who penetrated into Mexico, have been apt to display there (as, for that matter, they are often apt to display elsewhere) an autocratic, impatient, and pugnacious spirit, which contrasts oddly with their tolerance of abuses, and free admission of the right of "a coon to do as he durned pleases," in the States. The American abroad and the American at home are two totally different beings. In Mexico they have had to deal with an intensely conservative people, whose dilatory andslack way of doing business was the very polar antithesis of the slap-dash, energetic, and decisive style to which they themselves are accustomed. In place of accommodating themselves to these conditions, they appear to have endeavoured to force their own methods on the natives, and failing in this, to have treated them with systematic contempt. Unfortunately their numbers, and the influence of their Government, have not been sufficient until lately to sustain them in this mode of procedure, and consequently, in the face of an already established ill-feeling, it has resulted in uniform business failure. "They could not get on with the Mexicans," they found. It would have been strange had it been otherwise. Add to the unfavourable impression which the above circumstances left in American minds, the unfortunate experience which some investors gained by plunging into land speculations, without previously inquiring into Mexican land laws, and sifting the titles to the ranch property they coveted—titles which are vested sometimes in all the living members of a family—and the once marked indisposition of American capitalists to invest in things Mexican will be fully understood.
I have said that, as a cattle country, Northern Mexico is preferable to any section of the United States. Bold though the assertion may seem, it is undoubtedly correct in so far as the greater part of Sonora, Chihuahua, and Cohuila are concerned. In Northern Mexico, the percentage of increase amongst a hundred cows frequently reaches ninety-five, and is rarely below eighty—an average that is unapproached anywhere in the States, save in Southern New Mexico. There are no winters to kill the young calves, and at intervals sweep off forty or fifty per cent. of the whole herd, as in Montana, Wyoming, etc.; no piercing "northers," or cold sleet storms to cause cattle to drift a hundred miles or more; no droughts, such as entail enormous losses in Colorado, Kansas, Texas, and elsewhere in the West (dry seasons do occur, but they are never sufficiently dry to prevent the growth of new grass); there is no sickness; neither flies nor screw-worms trouble the cattle; no plagues of locusts strip the ranches of herbage in a night, as is the case sometimes in California; the country is far enough south to be within the limits of the semi-tropical rainy season, and yet lies, for the most part, at such an altitude that the summerclimate is comparatively cool and bracing. None of the risks and dangers which face the ranchero in other countries have to be encountered here. On the other hand he has the advantage of fine breeding and maturing grounds in close juxtaposition, inasmuch as the plains are unrivalled in the former respect, whilst the gramma-carpeted foot-hills and plateaux of the Sierra Madre compare, upon almost equal terms, with the bunch-grass valleys of Montana and Wyoming as regards the latter.
Another advantage enjoyed by the ranchero in Mexico—one which cow-men will be amongst the first to recognise, and which, as cattle countries fill up, will become of more and more importance—is that he is able to purchase his ranch entirely, and does not simply graze his cattle on Government land which he controls in virtue of the water rights that he holds. His herds, therefore, are isolated, and he alone derives the advantage of any expense that he may choose to go to in improving their breed. No outsider can sink a well or take up a desert claim in the midst of his range, and either run cattle there or impound those of the original tenant for trespass. If he pleases, he can put a ring-fence roundhis property and remove any intruder from it. And this is no slight privilege.
In Sonora and Cohuila very many of the old grants, besides immense tracts of public land purchased from the Mexican Government, have already passed into the possession of foreigners. In Northern Chihuahua, only one large ranch (the Boca Grande) remains in Mexican hands. Foreigners also own large bodies of land further south in this province. Influenced, no doubt, by the present agitation against them in the States, the Mormons are silently but continuously pouring into Sonora and Chihuahua, and acquiring land in all directions. Polygamy is a little out of date certainly in times when even monogamy is apt to be regarded as too irksome a burden. But the United States have no quieter or more industrious a class of men to send forth than are these much-married individuals. They work systematically and have capital to invest if necessary, and the condition of prosperity that they will initiate wherever they settle will soon enhance the value of adjoining land.
Few people, who have not at intervals passed over waste lands out West, can conceive the rapidity withwhich a country, once opened up, is appropriated and developed in these days of steam and telegraphy; few people can realise what enormous masses of population year by year roll forth from the crowded hives of Europe and the Eastern States.
And be it remembered that the country to which I have referred lies not in any remote corner of the world, but close to the centres of trade and population in America, and within twelve days' journey of England. The "boom" in land, therefore, will be sharp and swift there. Of course, the possibility of these provinces being annexed to the States is a question of importance for the investor to consider, since the future value of property there hinges to some extent upon it. But this aside, the advance in the value of ranches will be rapid enough. Already it is treble that which it was six or seven years ago. Annexed or not annexed, at the rate that foreigners are now occupying the country, the power of the Mexican Government there will be merely nominal before long. The taxes levied by it are extremely light, and sensible settlers have absolutely no trouble with the officials; judicious investments there can hardly fail to prove profitable, therefore.
Whilst we have been discussing the fate of Northern Mexico, our waggon has made good its way to Smith's Wells, where a little adobe building of three small rooms was to be our shelter for the night.
Smith was an Englishman who had been settled for many years in the States, but had formerly served as steward on board one of the Transatlantic passenger steamers. He was rather amusing, inasmuch as, a great talker, he gave absolutely true, or at any rate matter-of-fact accounts of things, without using any of that pleasant varnish of fiction often adopted even by a whole community as if by mutual consent, in the discussion of open secrets of corruption, or the disgraceful conduct of affairs, public or otherwise. Smith called murderers murderers, thieves thieves, cowards cowards, and so forth; in fact, his ill manners were quite refreshing.
He was well informed on the subject of recent Apache wars (having held the post of packer, teamster, or something of the kind with the troops), and his histories of the battles, skirmishes, etc., that had taken place, compared with those currently accepted, were very laughable. They were particularly amusing inthe present instance, for Navajo Bill having been a "long-haired scout" in these campaigns, much of our information was derived from him. The Colonel and Joe took a malicious delight in leading Smith to narrate events, glowing descriptions of which we had already received from Bill. But the latter hero's equanimity was not to be disturbed by any matter so trivial as the direct controversion of his most brilliant yarns. When Smith incidentally remarked that he and Navajo had been twenty miles in the rear on the occasion of "a little skirmish with a few Indians,mostly squaws," which we had been taught to believe was a bloody and decisive battle, indissolubly connected with the glory of Navajo—a battle in which we had pictured him, or rather he had pictured himself, as careering through the awed forces of the enemy with the irresistible majesty of the cyclone—the Colonel's imperturbable valet merely shifted in his chair, smiled one of his own inimitable smiles, and added to the mirth by some quaint remark, without attempting to support his original tale.
We left on the following morning, and camped on the Boca Grande River after a thirty-mile drive. The Boca Grande ranch is a league broad, and follows thecourse of the river for thirty or forty leagues. The grass on it is mostly coarse, and since the soil is light and sandy, would trample out if heavily stocked. But the close proximity of the Southern Pacific Railway lends the ranch value, and its long stretch of water gives it control of a large extent of outside grazing, some of which is first-rate.
At this distance from its source the river does not flow uninterruptedly throughout the year, but during the dry season (winter and part of spring) shrinks and stands in a series of short canals and water-holes, where an ample supply of water is always to be found at every hundred yards or so. Here and there also a spring occurs, and the river flows permanently for a few hundred yards.
Another characteristic of certain rivers in this part of the world may as well be mentioned here. In places they sink, flow for some distance underground, and then rise again. The explanation given of this is, that the bed rock dips, the water filters through the loose surface soil and follows it, reappearing only when the natural fall of the country in the same direction brings the bed rock near the surface again, and the level of the water above it. Of course, in the wetseason there is a sufficient rainfall in most cases to fill these inequalities, and keep the bed bank-full.
I have heard it argued that a dam sunk to the bed rock would have the effect of preserving a full head of water. But since the stream must inevitably pass these sinks sooner or later, and the only way to neutralise the ill effect of them is to fill them, it seems to me that one built where the water reappears would be equally effective and less expensive. But the matter requires study, and I am only justified in offering the most diffident suggestion.
FOOTNOTE:[38]It is needless, I presume, to warn the reader not to confuse this "Joe" with the cow-boy who appeared in the last sketch.
[38]It is needless, I presume, to warn the reader not to confuse this "Joe" with the cow-boy who appeared in the last sketch.
[38]It is needless, I presume, to warn the reader not to confuse this "Joe" with the cow-boy who appeared in the last sketch.
On the following day we drove into Ascension,—a small place of recent date. When New Mexico was taken over by the Americans, a body of Mexicans emigrated thence and settled here. Ascension bears little resemblance, therefore, to the ordinary Mexican town; it has no ruins, its population is increasing, it is growing in size—an altogether unparalleled state of things.
Repairing to the Customs House, we gave bonds for the return of our horses and waggon, and submitted our baggage to be searched. A new agent, whom none of us knew as yet, having lately arrived from the City of Mexico, the search was rigid. However, we had nothing contraband, with the exception of a few cartridges, the duty on which was(as it is on most things taxed at all) fully equal to their value. Had it been levied to protect a home manufacture, it might have been comprehensible; but, unless imported, cartridges are not procurable at any rate in Northern Mexico. Pillage of this nature is apt to encourage evasions of the law; for any one resident in the country to smuggle, or countenance smuggling though, is extremely foolish, and in the long run inevitably leads to mischief. It is important at present to stand on good terms with the official class. Intrigue in the City of Mexico, and the jealousy of their neighbours, renders it impossible for the officers to wink at anything like systematic smuggling, although a little diplomatic hospitality soon serves with these degenerate, albeit still often chivalrously polite descendants of Old Spain, to secure the passage, unsearched, of such an "outfit" as ours. Moreover, the penalties incurred where smuggling has been detected have been rendered so severe lately, that the risk is not worth running. Yet there are men with a large stake in the country who, for the sake of saving a few dollars, live under perpetual suspicion and supervision, in an atmosphere of constant annoyance.
A good story was current about the Colonel's first visit to the Ascension Customs House. He was on his way with a large party to survey a ranch for which he was then in treaty. The Superintendent at that time in power was a ceremonious and pompous old gentleman, possessed of something of the pride of race characteristic of Spaniards of the old school. Reasoning from the number of Don Cabeza's companions that he was a man of great importance in his own country, he showed every disposition to treat him with consideration. Through the medium of the Colonel's interpreter conversation was established; sweet phrases flowed and compliments were bandied between the principals with courtier-like agility and address. The Customs Superintendent placed his house, his subordinates, his resources—in short, with Spanish figurative magnificence, placed even his country and fellow-countrymen at the disposal of his guest; and not to be surpassed in generosity, the Colonel magnanimously gave him the United States, and as many American citizens as he wanted. If the old hidalgo, or "son of somebody," were "bluffing," he had struck the very man to "see him and raise him back." Things were progressing swimminglywhen, at Don Cabeza's suggestion, some bottles of champagne were produced from the waggons and uncorked. The Superintendent had never seen champagne before, and supposing its effervescence to be a rare and precious property appertaining only to the wines of the great, was more than ever convinced of the exalted rank of his new acquaintance. Unfortunately, it occurred to him to inquire at this juncture into the position of the other members of the party, and to save himself the trouble of a little explanation, the interpreter briefly described them as his master's peons. With his own hands the old fellow thereupon collected their glasses, and placed them all together in the middle of the table. "Sincehedid not drink with peons," he said, "it would only be necessary to fill two glasses." "That settled it." All the Colonel's tact and diplomacy were necessary to preserve peace now, for the Superintendent, having adopted the peon notion, clung to it, and the "boys," some of whom were friends of the Colonel's and gentlemen anywhere, and all of whom were gentlemen on the frontier, got the "big head," and displayed effervescence scarcely less remarkable than that of the champagne itself. The result was that the wine,intended to propitiate a dozen thirsty officials, was finished on the spot by the indignant "peons," and the interpreter, not permitted to drink with the Customs official and the Colonel, was not permitted either to partake with the rest of the party, and narrowly escaped receiving a far more severe expression than this of their displeasure.
Juan Carrion, an ex-presidenteor mayor, with whom we lodged, and the avowed "amigo" of all Americans who frequented the road, was a delightful creature. He kept a little all-sorts shop, the stock in which ranged from pastry and sweet-stuff to pins and needles, from wine and native spirits to grain or fuel. Histinadain Ascension was what the coffeehouses were in old London—the rendezvous of wit and fashion. Here prospectors and cattle buyers, immigrant Mormons,rancheros, banished "rustlers," and Mexican horse thieves, with the local loafers and a bibulous local doctor, assembled, and seated on the counter, on benches, flour-sacks, inverted boxes, or in the grain-bin, interchanged gossip overcopitas de mascal, and the eternal cigarette.
Little Juan—we apologise—Don Juan had a monkey-melancholy physiognomy, furnished with aradiant and an instantaneous smile—an inexhaustibly rich smile, which never for a moment slackened or lost its freshness. Behold him standing behind the counter, quiescent, for a wonder, and as dejected in appearance as a lost dog. "Don Juan!" "Si, Señor." In a second, as if it were the surface of still water into which a brick had been dropped, his face irradiates with a series of expanding rings of cheerful import. Amongst other faculties that he possessed, was one forseemingto understand an almost incredible amount of bad Spanish. His sympathy with the foreigner, whose incoherent ravings proved him to be labouring under the influence of "somebody's Spanish teacher," was without end. Don Juan's looks of intelligence and soothing "Si, Señor," cheered such as one in his darkest moments and most agonising paroxysms.
A busy man was Juan—an indispensable man, weighed down by his own, his American friends', his clients', his neighbours', and the State's affairs. Undoubtedly the conviction haunted him that, were he removed from this vale of tears, chaos would come again. To hear him sigh inspired a vague impression, not less significant of vast, troublous schemes, andponderous businesses, than the faint rumbling of thunder is of the distant thunder-storm. Occasionally he remembered that he considered it incumbent upon him to make his importance felt, to "Assume the God, affect to nod," to be dignified in demeanour and choice in language. Animated by these sentiments, Juan behind his counter giving audience to a poor neighbour was a study equal in sublimity to a well-executed idol of Buddha. He always had some new long word running in his mind, culled from a legal document or newspaper, and under circumstances such as the above, would haul it into his conversation sideways, head first, anyhow, altogether regardless of how awkwardly or heavily it alighted. It was a treat to hear him sling it blindly around, prefixing adjective after adjective to it as he did so, until with accumulated weight and impetus, at last he brought the whole tautological string down "kerflop" full and fairly upon the devoted crown of his auditor, and raising his eyes inexorably from the destruction that he had caused, would purse his mobile under-lip severely, whilst the wretched victim of his eloquence crept mutely from the shop.
The Corralitos ranch[39]consisted of 820,000 acres of magnificent grazing land, lying, for the most part, in a great basin, through which a river of from one to two hundred feet broad flowed for a distance of over thirty miles. Besides this, there were several springs upon it, one of which gave birth to a stream of seven or eight miles in length, and which, with a little work and improvement, might have been made to flow much further. The Janos River traversed it for a distance of twelve miles in the north-west, and in all directions water was found at a depth of from ten to twenty-two feet, which, raised by windmills, would have supplied unlimited herds. These various waters gave the owners of the property control of at least another million acres of Government land for grazing purposes. The grass was of the finest kinds ofgramma, and since the soil was mostly hard, was not likely to pull or trample out, however severely it might be grazed. In the Corralitos River bottom at least thirty thousand acres of land was susceptible of irrigation and cultivation. This principality, to which the Corralitos Company possessed a clear title, lay within only a hundred miles of the nearest point on the Southern PacificRailway, the intervening country affording easy and well-watered trails by which cattle might be driven thither.