"Man seems the only growth that dwindles here,Contrasted faults through all his manners reign;Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain;Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue,And e'en in penance planning sins anew,"
"Man seems the only growth that dwindles here,Contrasted faults through all his manners reign;Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain;Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue,And e'en in penance planning sins anew,"
"Man seems the only growth that dwindles here,
Contrasted faults through all his manners reign;
Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain;
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue,
And e'en in penance planning sins anew,"
quoted the Colonel with mock solemnity, as we hove in sight of the Corralitos country.
"I don't know much about 'luxury,'" ejaculated Joe, "unless you're looking for fleas and chilies."
As we surveyed the glorious expanse of country before us I could not forbear saying: "Colonel, I thought that the Animas was the 'boss' ranch in the country."
"Inanothercountry; we're in Mexico now," he rejoined.
"You won't catchhim," said Joe. "Years ago, when Frisco was blooming, and the stock market was alive there, a period of depression occurred once, and I asked Cabeza what he thought about it. 'Oh, things have reached bottom,' he said. A few days afterwards, when they had gone a durned sight lower, I showed him the stock list, and reminded him of what he had said. 'Well, well,' said he, 'I meanthighbottom, of course; we're getting down tolowbottom now.'"
The Colonel shook his head hopelessly. "Did Joe say herememberedthat, or invented it? Well, Joe'll say anything; he don't care what he says. But this isn't a finer range than the Animas, anyhow—only, of course, they own every acre of it, and can put a ring-fence round it if they like, and that's an advantage."
We drove on and in due course reached thehacienda, which lay near the river, and was situated about the centre of the property. In former times over a thousand people had dwelt here, but the population had now dwindled to half that number, consisting principally of the wives and families of the workmen employed by the Corralitos Company on the San Pedro mines.
These old Spaniards did things on a grand scale; a ranch with them was a little principality of which thehaciendawas the capital. Surrounded by rows of small adobe houses—like some old country alms-houses—there was aplazahere that would have made a magnificent drill-ground; a corral capable of holding 10,000 head of cattle; smaller corrals for branding,etc.; wool yards, stables where hundreds of horses might have been bestowed, yards for killing and drying meat, blacksmiths' forges, carpenters' shops, shops of every description, store-houses, a church, acres of long-neglected pleasure-grounds, and ruined quarters and premises of every description, besides those still in fair condition where a strong military force might have been comfortably housed at any time.
The prettiest feature of thehaciendawas the Caille des Alamos, or street of cotton-woods, upon which the head-quarters, visitors' quarters, the offices, the laboratory, and store looked. When I was last there the trees were in full leaf, and, meeting above the road, formed a perfect archway which defied the penetration of the sun's most searching rays. "Here in cool grot," with unseen birds in the thick foliage filling the air "with their sweet jargoning," Lieut. Britton Davis, the manager (an old Indian fighter of wide reputation), Sheldon, Neil, Massey, Slocum, Wallace, McGrew, Don Cabeza, "Joe," Follansbee, Murray, Roberts, Posehl, Bunsen, and a few cow-boys, in variously mingled parties, spent many a bright half-hour, spun many a web of yarns, smokedmany a score of cigarettes, and submitted to, or took a hand in many an attack of good-humoured chaff. The Caille des Alamos, at Corralitos, has grown, I find, into one of those memory pictures that form the pleasantest relics of travel, and many of which I have gathered up and down the world, from the Golden Horn to the Golden Gates, from the bays of Alaska to Table Bay, from the banks of the Rhine to the banks of the Meinam.
Since the vendors had agreed to deliver the steers in the Plyas Valley, only two men had accompanied Murray from the Animas to assist in branding and to watch the "round up," preparations for which were immediately commenced.
FOOTNOTE:[39]This ranch is, I believe, for sale.
[39]This ranch is, I believe, for sale.
[39]This ranch is, I believe, for sale.
There are two things that the settler will find gaining a hold on him after a short residence in Mexico, namely, cigarette smoking and indolence. Very few foreigners successfully resist the seduction of thesiesta. However fierce their original abhorrence of the practice may be, gradually the climate saps and softens it, and induces them to regard it leniently. It is hopeless to attempt to combat the native predisposition to midday slumber. The custom of generations has become an instinct. For the time being all idea of business is as completely relinquished as during the hours of midnight. There is nothing for the best intentioned and most energetic individual to do but wait until in due course the Mexican world wakes again. And this period of enforced idlenessit is which proves so fatal to the good intentions of the stranger in the land.
The laws that govern the attraction of cigarette smoking are more mysterious; but their influence is also more swift and certain. I believe that no one escapes this injurious habit. As for me, I did not endeavour to do so, but avoided a good deal of trouble and self-mortification by falling into it at once; and although a rooted indisposition to sleep in the day-time under any circumstances preserved me from indulging in thesiestaduring any of my trips into Mexico, I must confess that about that period of the day which may be designated the fore-afternoon, a sense of most enjoyable laziness would steal upon me, when not in the saddle.
No doubt there are lazier creatures than the typical Mexican; for all intents and purposes, however, he is lazy enough. He unites with his indolence a constitutional indifference which is very enviable. I have seen the combination described somewhere as "the tropical philosophy of the Mexican." He can be idle without reproaching himself, poverty-stricken without repining. His soul is unvexed by envy or those yearnings of vulgar ambition, not unfrequentlymistaken for the still, small voice of conscience, urging us to labour. Life with him is one longsiesta. In the fulness of our restless hearts let us not condemn his equanimity too hastily. To struggle and strive are not essentially admirable unless the ulterior ends of those who are so occupied are disinterested and noble. And, as a rule, unselfish and noble views, grand schemes, are usually propounded, not by the hard-working citizen, but by the more or less unreliable dreamer, of more or less dubious integrity. The "tropical philosophy" of the Mexican is often evinced in an amusing fashion.
Whilst we were at Corralitos, the blanket-maker of thehaciendacame into the office one afternoon on business, and Mr. Neil, the book-keeper, took the opportunity of telling him that, upon their last regulating his accounts, he had been charged by mistake with owing the company three hundred, instead of two hundred and odd dollars. A considerable difference this to one in his position. But the ragged old weaver merely waved his hand, and shrugging his shoulders indifferently, said, with all the air of a prince receiving the intimation: "No hay differencia." There may have been some truth inthis literally, however, inasmuch as, like most Mexican ranch hands, he doubtless intended to die, as he had lived, in debt to his employers.
The reply of the Corralitos store-keeper to his customers, when they inquired whether the stock of sugar (which had been exhausted some days before) had been renewed—sugar being the very light of a Mexican's life—was also characteristic. "Azucar? No hay, Señores, pero tengo muchos frejoles." Who but a Mexican, when earnestly besought for sugar, could placidly answer that he had none, but had "plenty of beans"? To be able to distinguish any connection between sugar and beans, and offer the latter as a substitute for the former, seems incomprehensible to a practical mind. But philosophers tell us that to be able to generalise is a rare and precious gift, and surely the above incident evinces the possession of it to an unlimited extent.
But for sublime indifference, due, however, not a little in effect to the speaker's manner, a response that I received in Janos is not to be overlooked. I chanced one morning to ask a "tropical philosopher," seated on an erratic boulder in the street, with hiszarapacovering his ears, and a cigarette between his fingers, what time it was. He lifted his eyelids and gazed at me curiously. "What manner of fool is this that waits on time?" his looks said palpably, and smiling compassionately, his contempt gaining infinitely from the indolent style in which it was expressed, he murmured: "Quien sabe?"
Nevertheless, very winning traits may be found occasionally in these expatriated descendants of the old Goths. Whence comes the courtly courtesy and dignity displayed by some of the owners of little insignificant shops in Mexican towns? Uneducated and untravelled, these old fellows have lived all their lives in these out-of-the-way corners of the world, yet the demeanour of some of them is as inimitable as is any other inspiration of true genius. It is neither taught nor copied, but inherited, and is the result of long custom acting upon successive generations. "Bon chien chasse de race." These men are polite for the same reason. Skin deep! you object. Very likely. But surely the beautifully combined colours and variety of artistic designs that adorn the surface of Eastern china, are more pleasant to look upon and live with, than the rough surface, scanty, vulgar,and monotonous ornamentation that offends the eye on Western crockery.
I have heard the advice given by one who knew Mexico well: "Cuff and curse the peons, bribe the middle classes, and if you can only outvie the old Dons in politeness you are eternally heeled." One is often reminded by the native character of Harrington's lines:
"A tailor, thought a man of upright dealing,True but for lying, honest but for stealing."
"A tailor, thought a man of upright dealing,True but for lying, honest but for stealing."
"A tailor, thought a man of upright dealing,
True but for lying, honest but for stealing."
By another who had had a good deal of experience with Mexicans, a broad rule for my guidance was offered to me once, in the following words: "You don't really want to treat them with delicacy. Pretend to—yes, 'pretend,' to beat h—l!—the more you pretend the better, if you want to get on with them. But don't let it enter into your heart. Never let them get a chance at your sentiment; keep that dry." The speaker was a shrewd judge of men, and was probably not far wrong. The Colonel dealt with them upon a somewhat similar principle, and I was amused upon one occasion by an example of it.
During a drive through the country, three of us had spent the night at the house of an old fellow at Janos, who had entertained us in a style that wassimply delightful—I allude, of course, more to the spirit displayed by our host than to what he had absolutely offered us, for in a land where there is no costly food, and where every one carries his own blankets, and requires only a few square feet of floor to sleep upon, visitors are not a great trouble or expense. Nevertheless, we were unwilling to leave without signifying our appreciation of what had been done for us. Money, however, our host unhesitatingly refused to accept, saying that his house was ours, and that whenever we came to Janos we were to make the freest use of it. Don Cabeza bowed and smiled with politeness not less ceremonious than that of our entertainer. "We wereamigos," he said; "we understood that; we did not dream of offering to pay for ourselves. We lived in the hope of being able some day to return in Deming the hospitality that we had received in Janos. But the Señor Don Manuel must accept five dollars for the accommodation that he had so kindly afforded our two horses." This was another matter altogether. Don Manuel took the five dollars without raising any objections, but reiterating with even greater fervour his professions of friendship and regard.
A somewhat similar incident came under my noticeelsewhere. Travelling alone, I was recommended to the house of a small trader, whose courtesy and good-nature were perfectly ideal. He was a man of remarkably fine presence, and his manners were superb—easy, courtly, thoughtful, and charming, yet never for a second anything but deliberate and exquisitely dignified. They reminded me of the manners of a thorough-bred Turk, only this man had a pleasant smile, his laugh was not unfrequent, and altogether he lacked much of the solemnity which governs the usual demeanour of the Osmanli.
I had only to express a fancy, to evince, even unconsciously, a desire, and the means of gratifying it, were they procurable, were not pressed upon me, but unostentatiously placed within my reach and power. And this unwearying attention was paid me in such a way, that it never became in the least degree irritating or oppressive, as is often the case where extreme solicitude is displayed. I spent two afternoons and nights in the house of this gentleman (on my way to and from a ranch that I had gone to look at), but, unfortunately, I was using hired horses which were looked after by my guide, and lodged elsewhere, and being under no obligation to my host for their keep therefore, I was unable to avail myselfof Don Cabeza's expedient, when the remuneration that I offered for my own lodging was refused. My host was by no means rich, and I was anxious to reimburse him. It happened that I asked him to change a ten-dollar United States bill into Mexican paper money. I forget the exact value of the Mexican paper dollar at that time, but at any rate it was less than seventy cents American money. My host produced some Mexican notes, and counted me out ten, of the value of one dollar each. Then he paused to see whether this change would satisfy me, and curious to find out what he would do, I folded them up as though contented and thanked him. On his side, he placed my ten-dollar note with the rest of his own bills in his pocket, and bowed gravely, having made at least four dollars, Mexican paper, by the transaction. An odd medley of qualities therefore exists in the Mexican disposition. Traces of the traits that were so marked in their Spanish ancestors still reassert themselves, and side by side with something of the old Castilian pride and manner is found the same avarice that supported the early settlers, under the dangers and hardships which they encountered in order to obtain gold in this country.
Twenty-six miles from Corralitos lay Casas Grandes, a place containing between two and three thousand inhabitants, and a fair type of the collection of ruins, partial ruins, patched ruins, ruins deserted, ruins inhabited, and a few passable adobe houses, that in Northern Mexico is dignified by the denomination, town. The site occupied by it appears to have been a favourite one from early times, some interesting ruins of Aztec buildings still remaining here, and traces of labour that must be referred to an even more remote date, occurring in the neighbourhood.
I had visited Casas Grandes twice without seeing the ruins (or "Casas Grandes de Montezuma," as they are called), when one morning I found myself in the company of the priest of the village. This functionaryspoke some English—some Ollendorf, perhaps I should say—very little of which was intelligible, and still less coherent. But this did not seem to concern him. In an unfortunate moment I invited him to take some bottled beer at the principal store. He finished four bottles gaily, and was preparing to accept a further renewal of the invitation, when it occurred to me that, inasmuch as I did not drink beer, and the division of labour was scarcely a fair one, it would be wise to vary the entertainment. I proposed to visit the ruins, and leaving the shop we proceeded in the direction of the "big houses." Thepadre'ssomewhat high action, the moment that he began to feel the heat of the sun, reminded me a good deal of what Skippy had said about Mac's dancing: namely, that "he only touched on the high places as he went round the room." The successor of the Apostles dipped and soared, and set to every pig, passer-by, or obstruction in our way, with bewitching grace and lightness. It would not have surprised me at any moment to have seen him pause, cover his face in his mantle, and, after an interval of self-communion, burst into a prophetic denunciation of the degenerate inhabitants of the surrounding hovels. He was in that sort of mood. We reached the ruins,however, without this having occurred. To stand amidst such remarkable traces of past industry and civilisation, in company with an inebriated priest, a mouthpiece of the God of the race that expunged the Aztec authors of them from the list of nations, was not altogether without its moral.
The ruins still visible lie on the top of the artificial mounds on which the Aztecs often built, and extend over a wide surface. Doubtless they would still be in a state of much greater preservation but for the fact that the Mexicans have been accustomed to borrow materials from them, to employ in the construction of their houses and corrals. I am told that Coronado, who took part in the expedition of Cortez, refers to these remains in his history as being "already old;" but I have had no opportunity of consulting his work. The ruins that I saw seemed to be those of a large palace, or of some building of that nature, and were composed of blocks of a species of adobe cement, 18 x 18 x 24 inches in size. The rooms are long and rather narrow; some plaster still adheres to the walls in the interior of one of them. Judging from the elevation to which the walls still standing rise, the building appears to have been two or three storeys high—noteworthyevidence of architectural advance if the supposition be correct.
It seemed likely that the natives would from time to time have discovered Aztec relics here, but inquiry brought nothing of the kind to light, save some "oyas de Montezuma," earthenware pots of more or less fantastic shapes. The designs in black and red on some of them showed considerable finish and skill, and the things themselves were far superior to anything of the kind made in the country at the present time.
To turn from the Casas Grandes of the Aztecs to the modern town which derives its name from them, is to turn from ruined buildings to ruined people. In this instance the ruined people are certainly the more picturesque. Walls of mud, be they never so mighty, and dust, though it be the dust of ages, have not the charm of one of the little groups of loafers that may be seen at every street corner in a Mexican village. Bronze faces, luminous-eyed; hair, beards, and moustaches black as ravens' wings; bigsombreroscovered with tarnished silver braiding; deep-toned, rich-huedzarapas, contrasting with white (?) shirts, and perhaps a rose-coloured knot at the wearer's throat; great jangling spurs, braided breeches, atrailinglariat, a wreath or two of cigarette smoke, a bit of green foliage, deep shadows, golden sunlight; and all mellowed with dirt and perfect repose as a picture mellows with age. Turn where you will, such scenes may be found.
There are streets, it is true; but building and rebuilding have rendered their lines extremely vague. Here a householder has trenched upon the road for space for his pig-sty; there a wattled fence encloses a fowl-yard; yonder is a small corral built of old Aztec blocks; elsewhere, a stable-shed abuts upon the right of way. But none of the domestic animals for whom these offices have been built appear to inhabit them. A lean horse, with ribs protruding, stands, looking like a big knot, at one end of a raw-hide lasso, which, trailing loosely on the ground, is lost to sight inside the door of his master's hotel. Cows repose placidly in the thick dust of the path, chewing an apparently inexhaustible cud. Cocks and hens stalk here, there, and everywhere, in search of their precarious livelihood. There is a large floating population of dogs that have neither name nor home; and the pigs of a Mexican town (save in the instances of those obese monstrosities that are tethered out) haveevidently a strolling license to go whithersoever they list. There are busy pigs and idle pigs, clean, dirty, blatant, pensive, friendly, and aggressive pigs, cynical pigs with cold, cruel, alligator eyes, pigs that look the very incarnation of sensualism, and pigs that look chaste and pure as matrons of old Rome.
Few animals have so human an eye as this unjustly despised benefactor of mankind. For my own part, although reluctantly confessing that vulgar prejudice has educated in me a preference for him when he has fallen into his baconage, I can never entirely overlook the debt of gratitude that is his due. Science has greater records than his; there are figures in statecraft, art, theology, and war, to whom it is the custom of giddy historians to assign greater prominence when recounting the world's great names; but of few can it be said that their unaided genius and research has awakened the taste of civilised humanity to a source of gratification so universally admitted, and so entirely free from alloy, as has the pig. For what, indeed, is the detecter of a new planet, the finder or conqueror of a new continent, beside the great discoverer of the truffle? Not for us is the planet, to new continents we are indifferent. These are vanities for our childrento reach and cry for. But, as weary and disillusionised we drive "Life's sad post-horses o'er the dreary frontier of age," and Time, great proselytiser, gently turns the mind to solemn thoughts of turtle-fat and beaver-tail, water-rails and canvas-back ducks, caviare,foie gras, some fishes, and a few wines, the truffle will be found to be connected with most of our comfortablest dreams and sweetest hopes. Yet, how have we treated its inspired inventor? Have we cherished him, and encouraged his investigations? No! The sensitive, tip-tilted nose to which we owe so much has been ruthlessly pierced and torn. The iron hath entered into poor piggy's snout. The marvellous faculty possessed by him of going to the root of things is wantonly destroyed. He will never electrify us with another discovery, never present the epicurean world with another truffle. When I speak of the truffle, by the way, I no more allude to the usual dry chips of black leather of English dinner-tables than I should be referring to the London orange, if, with the memory of the glorious fruit of the gardens of Chio in my mind, I spoke of oranges.
I could linger for pages in any one of these Mexican towns—now sketching a smallpox-marked,villainous-visaged horse-thief, with the seat of a centaur, engaged in mid-street in breaking in a colt, barebacked, and bridled only with a hackamore; and, whilst the animal bucks and bucks untiringly, exchanging jokes and laughter with the idlers near; now depicting a dark-eyed, black-haired, slatternlyseñorita(not beautiful—that is extremely rare—but picturesque certainly), standing with her pail by the old derrick over the public well, in a cotton skirt of pink, a shawl or veil of similar though lighter colour covering her head and shoulders and falling to her waist, the whole vaguely reminding one of a cloud of apple-blossom; now describing the obscure interior of a cottage, and the group of women crouching round the wide, open hearth, crushing maize in thematate, or cooking one of their simple dishes; now picturing——But enough! As it is we proceed much too slowly; and many of the towns, ranches, Mormon camps, and scenes that I saw, will find no record in the limits that I have here assigned myself. For, when the originality of a generation may be registered in few lines, no book can be too short.
"Now, boys! now, boys! now, boys! Who—oop! Up you get, now; up you get! No loafing! —— and — —! We ain't going to stop here all day! Come! it'll be sun-up directly! I'll be — — — if some of you chaps wouldn't sleep round the clock!" cried McGrew, turning out of his blankets at Ramos.
Those were busy days at Corralitos, and long before daylight the cattle manager's voice was raised thus. Ramos was one of the outlying ranches on the property, of which there were four. One lay to the north of thehacienda, and governed the approaches to the ranch from Janos and Ascension; one to the south afforded an effectual check on the formerly unimpeded and consequently free attentions which the good folks of Casas Grandes had beenaccustomed to devote to Corralitos beef; Barrancas (the ruins of an old mining village) was situated a few miles from Corralitos, and was used as a dairy ranch; Ramos itself lay to the west, on a stream that issued from springs in the foot-hills of the Sierra Madre, and in the neighbourhood of grazing which would make an imported cow that had once seen it sing, "It was a dream," for ever afterwards. Few cattle ran on the eastern half of the Corralitos property, and those few were worked from the San Pedro mining camp or from the mainhacienda.
Ramos, once a village, had been one of the oldest settlements in the district, but, "cleaned out" many years ago by Apaches, had never recovered its former importance. At present it consisted of a few more or less ruined adobes (occupied by thevaquerosand their families), which formed with the neighbouring corrals, the old church, and the mill that supplied Corralitos with flour, a large square orplaza.
A hurried breakfast of coffee, jerked beef, and corn-cake over, every one repaired to the horse corral, into which the cow ponies, about a hundred and fifty in number, had already been driven. Clouds of dust rose in the air as they careered madly round andround in a band, or checked, confused, and scattered, halted, and with ears pricked and manes and tails flying, shied and dodged nervously amidst a score of whirling lassoes. Here they were kicking and biting one another; here, fighting wildly at the end of hair or raw-hide ropes; here, with wisdom born of experience, following quietly after being captured.
In theplaza, too, the scene was a busy one. Before every door there were signs of preparation. It might be that avaquerowas vainly coaxing a colt that backed and backed steadily as he attempted to approach it with saddle or bridle; was taking a last reef in the horse-hairsinchaor girth; coiling his lasso, or fastening it to the pommel of the saddle; bending to accept a light for his cigarette from the brand that his dark-eyed wife had brought to the door. There were men in every condition of endeavouring to mount restive horses; and horses in every stage of enjoying their morning buck; whilst mingled with such brutes were a few corn-fed favourites, whose manners and appearance were of a different type altogether. Women were standing about amongst the men; and futurevaquerosclung to their skirts, or, having outgrown thissupport, emulated their fathers and swung little ropes, trying to capture every cock and hen, pig or dog, that came within their reach.
Having "saddled up," the crowd moved towards the big corral. The gate poles were shifted; the great herd of steers already collected streamed slowly out, and pointed in the direction in which it was intended that it should graze during the day, was allowed to string out on the plain. A few men were detached to follow and hold it; and the rest, under McGrew's direction, split up into small parties and scattered over the country to "cut out" and bring in, from amongst the cattle they saw, all the yearling and two-year-old steers. It was not always easy to turn these youngsters, and many a short, sharp burst we had over broken ground where a false step would have occasioned immeasurable grief. Fortunately, however, the nags were sure-footed. Such scenes as these recalled many of poor Gordon's lines, and one verse with but slight alteration absolutely describes such a day's work:
"'Twas merry in the glowing morn among the gleaming grass,To wander as we wandered many a mile,And blow the cool tobacco cloud, and watch the white wreaths pass,Sitting loosely in the saddle all the while."'Twas merry 'mid thefoot-hillswhen we spied theRamosroofs,To wheel the wild scrub cattle at the yard,With a running fire of stock-whips, and a fiery run of hoofs;Oh! the hardest day was never then too hard."
"'Twas merry in the glowing morn among the gleaming grass,To wander as we wandered many a mile,And blow the cool tobacco cloud, and watch the white wreaths pass,Sitting loosely in the saddle all the while.
"'Twas merry in the glowing morn among the gleaming grass,
To wander as we wandered many a mile,
And blow the cool tobacco cloud, and watch the white wreaths pass,
Sitting loosely in the saddle all the while.
"'Twas merry 'mid thefoot-hillswhen we spied theRamosroofs,To wheel the wild scrub cattle at the yard,With a running fire of stock-whips, and a fiery run of hoofs;Oh! the hardest day was never then too hard."
"'Twas merry 'mid thefoot-hillswhen we spied theRamosroofs,
To wheel the wild scrub cattle at the yard,
With a running fire of stock-whips, and a fiery run of hoofs;
Oh! the hardest day was never then too hard."
In and out amongst the foot-hills we wound and reconnoitred, gathering steers. Where it was found difficult to separate from the bunch with which they ran those of the ages that we required, cows, calves, and bulls were driven along with them and turned in with the others, to be dropped one by one as they endeavoured naturally to escape on the way back to Ramos. In the evening, before mingling the new bands with the herd already held, the few cattle of wrong sex or age that remained amongst the steers were cut out and driven off. As soon as the "round up" was completed, the herd was taken down to thehaciendawhere the branding was to take place.
The following was a gala week at Corralitos. Every man or boy who could beg, borrow, or steal a rope presented himself to take part in the proceedings. As their services were in most cases dispensed with, they sat in flocks on the walls of the corral, and added to the din of shouts and bellowing with their cries and applause. Women, in theirbest attire, mounted the roofs of houses that dominated the arena, and watched the scene with as much interest as if it had been a bull-fight. And truth to tell, it was not always devoid of excitement. These young Mexican cattle were as wild and quick as mustangs, and in the band of between a hundred and a hundred and thirty that occupied the branding corral at a time, there were always four or five, often more, that were as wicked as wild cats. In the old-fashioned and narrow enclosure it was difficult sometimes to escape their rushes. But fortunately, although a good many men were knocked down, no one was seriously hurt, a dozenvaquerosbeing always ready to lasso or draw the "fighting steer's" attention from the prostrate individual.
At one end of the corral, near the gate, and the fire for the branding-irons, were a couple of "snubbing-posts;" at the other the cattle remained crowded together when not disturbed. When steers were required two or three men would go in amongst them swinging theirlariats, and endeavouring to separate a bunch of ten or a dozen to drive towards the posts. Generally, however, they divided off thirty or forty head, sometimes many more, andnot unfrequently the whole herd would stampede, and thunder round and round the yard. As they passed, a dozenlariatswould be launched at them. Perhaps one of the foremost steers would be lassoed round the horns, and his captor succeed in bending the other end of hisriataround one of the posts; sometimes two steers would be noosed at once, and both ropes hitched to the same post, whilst the herd that followed them would rush on and fall over the tense ropes, a writhing, struggling mass of frantic animals. The noise, the dust, and confusion at such a juncture was indescribable. One by one the steers would extricate themselves, and amidst the "swoosh" of whirling ropes, the bellowing of their fellow cattle, and the cries of thevaqueros, would make a few false points or feints from side to side, and spring away to the other end of the corral. Kicking and rearing frantically, as they entangled themselves and one another more and more inextricably in the ropes that held them, the two steers that remained would struggle on, until in answer to the shout, "La cola! la cola!" gripped by the tails, they were turned adroitly on their sides, and covered by half-a-dozen fellows holding horns, legs, and tail, and allvociferating, "Hierro! hierro!" With a diamond A iron Murray would hasten from the fire then, and set the Colonel's mark upon the right hip; whilst with a Corralitos brand, similar to that already borne by them on the hip, McGrew would follow and score the opposite shoulder—thus venting, or neutralising the meaning of the brand altogether.
Not every one who had secured a steer succeeded in attaching his lasso to a snubbing-post. Under these circumstances, leaning back, with his feet set forward, the luckless one was dragged, sliding, after the rest of the herd. Sometimes the steer got away with the rope; sometimes its owner fell, and still clinging to it, was tugged about through dust six inches deep, until, in answer to his agonised cries of "Otra soga! otra soga!" his companions came to his assistance, and entangled in a network oflariats, the two-year-old was brought to ground, or taken to a snubbing-post.
When three or four were being marked at the same time, the order was, "No las suelten!" until the last one was finished, lest those who were occupied with steers as yet unbranded should be taken at a disadvantage by those loosed. But at a givensignal the men would all rise together, dodge behind the posts, make for the walls, or clinging to the tails of the newly-marked victims, start them fairly towards the rest of the herd. Amongst the bettervaquerosit was a point of honour not to mount a wall, unless absolutely obliged to do so. But brought up from earliest childhood amongst cattle, as these fellows are, they display a degree of confidence and address in a corral which is the best refuge they can have. I saw one deep-chested, gorilla-built fellow, when charged in mid-corral, wait coolly for the young steer, catch him by the horns with both hands, and giving back a little presently check him altogether. A second later he sprang aside, brought his lasso down on the flanks of the animal, and with a shout started him on again. Frequently, instead of quitting them when they were turned loose, the boys would sit astride of the steers they had been holding, and "stay with them" as they went bucking down the corral towards their fellows, until the proximity of these latter warned the riders to roll off and "dust."
Throughout the whole proceedings with a running fire of "Carambas! carajos!" etc., the air was filled with the warning shouts, "Cuidado! cuidado! ElPrieto! El Pinto! or El Colorado!" as now a black, now a piebald, now a red steer, that "meant business," left the herd and charged some one, amidst the laughter and applause of the onlookers. Some really fast times were made over short distances; Britton Davis and I distinguishing ourselves in this particular occasionally. As for the Colonel and Joe, they sat upon the wall and chaffed us, the former keeping tally of the ages and number of the cattle branded, in conjunction with a representative of the Corralitos Company.
The foregoing proceedings are not mentioned as in any way typical of what would take place on a well-ordered ranch in the States, where things were worked systematically and carefully. No attempt had been made until quite recently to train the Mexican hands employed on the Corralitos ranch, and they were consequently extremely rough in their style of handling cattle. Lassoing steers by the fore-legs when they are running, in order to have the satisfaction of seeing them turn a complete somersault, may commend itself to the mind of the untutored Mexican cow-puncher, but it is dangerous, and as a rule forbidden where broken legs, broken horns, etc., are taken intoconsideration. The Mexicans in California are amongst the finest cow-hands in the United States, and although they are a better type of men as a rule than those in Sonora, Chihuahua, and Cohuila, there is no reason why in course of time the latter should not become good workmen also.
During this week work commenced in the corral at day-break, and about a hundred steers were branded before the triangle rang for breakfast. Recommencing shortly after nine, branding was continued until dinner at 12.30. In the afternoons, Lieut. Britton Davis, the manager, and I, generally forsook the corrals and went duck-shooting.
The duck-shooting at Corralitos was very good and extremely easy. Any day—at any rate during winter—a fair shot with two guns could have killed fifty or sixty couple. We never went out until the afternoon, and then, in the course of two or three hours, killed about twenty or twenty-five couple—that, too, in the constantly-disturbed home reaches of the river. The variety of ducks here was scarcely less remarkable than their number.
Accompanied by a retriever in the form of a boy mounted on an old pony, we either walked along thebanks under cover of the cotton-woods or willow-trees, or sitting down, directed our attendant to make circuits of a few hundred yards and drive the birds to us. In either case we saw far more than we required.
I was sitting smoking one afternoon on one of the brick seats outside the offices, in the Calle de los Alamos, when a company of Mexican soldiers marched in from Casas Grandes. They looked so perfectly "fit" after their dusty tramp of twenty-six miles in a hot sun, that I was remarking on it, when half-a-dozen women, some of whom carried infants, and all of whom had children trotting beside them, came literally "sailing" in after them. They were the wives of some of the men, and they and their children had travelled the same distance in the same manner. It would seem that the walking powers of the Mexican are second only to those of the Apache, and if what I heard of them was correct, Mexican soldiers are immeasurably superior in this respect to any other regular soldiers that I know of. It was no unusual thing, I was told, for troops to march in a day from Casas Grandes to a mining camp near the north-east corner of the Corralitos property (thename of which I have forgotten), the distance being forty-five miles over a rough trail. I have heard it asserted two or three times in open company, without question, that during the war between Mexico and the States, 22,000 men under General Santa Ana marched twenty leagues in twenty-four hours, and then fought all day at Buena Vista, doing this extraordinary work on a little parched corn, ground and soaked in water with a little sugar. Averse though he may be, therefore, to continuous labour, the Mexican is able to exert himself to some purpose "upon a compelling occasion."
Whether it was that the bare discussion of these feats made some of us thirsty, I know not, but an amicable rivalry in the manufacture of milk punches sprang up in the store that afternoon, with the result that one of the manufacturers had to be assisted to bed before supper-time. He vowed of course on the following day, that it was "the milk that did it." It always is the "milk," or the "lemon," or the "sugar," or something of that kind.
À proposof the store, by the way, one of the assistants there, a very handsome and gentlemanly boy, was named Ponce de Leon. It seemed odd to find anamesake of the celebrated Marquess of Cadiz—the light of Andalusian chivalry and pride of Ferdinand and Isabella's court, the captor of Alhama and leading figure in the reconquest of Granada—serving out coffee or sugar for a few cents to peasants. But many a name that rings in Spanish history is borne in Mexico by men quite as insignificantly placed as this.
I had drifted out of the noisy store into the cool, quiet Calle de los Alamos, and was standing talking to Joe when an ambulance containing three Americans drove up. As they descended it appeared that one of them was handcuffed and manacled. The prisoner was Sam Rider, who had been captured by Mexican soldiers in a small village further south, after a desperate struggle in a little wine-shop, and was now returning in charge of the Marshal of Georgetown to be tried for killing the Deputy there. It is not easy to swagger under the embarrassment of handcuffs and irons, but Sam made a desperate effort to appear unconcerned. Before he left next morning I took the opportunity of giving him Squito's message.
"'He knows!' I know? What do I know?" and the man's bold, dark, prominent, and rather glassy eyes looked perplexedly in mine. Suddenly a light ofintelligence grew in them, and I could see that he had caught the girl's meaning. He shrugged his shoulders irritably, and was silent for a moment. "Oh, ——! D—n Squito! It seems like she'd coppered[40]me. Ever since she——since I seen that gal, luck's gone dead against me. If you see Squito, tell her I don't 'know' nothing—and don't want. Blast Squito!"
Poor little Squito! It was hardly worth while that her first love should have been wasted thus. What wonder that
"——our frothed out life's commotionSettles down to Ennui's ocean"
"——our frothed out life's commotionSettles down to Ennui's ocean"
"——our frothed out life's commotion
Settles down to Ennui's ocean"
as often as it does!
Full of regret at leaving so delightful a place, and of gratitude for the exceeding kindness and hospitality that we received at the hands of Lieut. Britton Davis and his associates, we took our departure from Corralitos as soon as we had seen the herd of steers started. We almost had to leave Joe behind. As usual, he wore us out waiting whilst he looked about for some more old women andchildren to tip. On the return journey, we made a detour by a couple of extremely pretty ranches belonging to Mr. Scobell, and Lord Deleval Beresford and Mr. Corbet, but finally arrived again at Ascension, where we were received effusively by Don Juan Carrion.
FOOTNOTE:[40]To "copper" a stake at faro, is to cover it with a small check, which signifies that the card selected is backed to lose, not win.
[40]To "copper" a stake at faro, is to cover it with a small check, which signifies that the card selected is backed to lose, not win.
[40]To "copper" a stake at faro, is to cover it with a small check, which signifies that the card selected is backed to lose, not win.
On this occasion we encountered in his shop a character well known in this part of the world, one "Apache Bill" by name, who was at present residing in Ascension, but had been absent when we previously passed through the town. "Apache" was a ragged, six-foot, dark-eyed, dark-haired, bottle-nosed, bibulous-looking, able-bodied "loafer," who wore mocassinsin town, and whose hands were never out of his pockets save for the purpose of lifting a glass, rolling a cigarette, or making an elaborate bow. He had a glib tongue, and spoke Spanish admirably, with the language having picked up something of the flowery politeness, though not the dignity, of the better class of native. It is odd how often good linguists lack common sense and stability. I have noticedthis frequently all the world over. A trim tongue and a ragged coat is always a suspicious combination anyhow, and this instance was no exception to the rule. Bill was a fine, candid, unaffected liar. I have encountered many men celebrated for their address in the ways of untruthfulness, who, to keep him in sight, would have been forced to take a long pull at the bottle, and launch out very recklessly indeed. His artless style reminded me a good deal of a Levantine servant that I once had, who had a great gift in this way, and who, upon my remonstrating energetically with him one day for so constantly abusing it, said plaintively: "Mais, Monsieur, c'est mon habitude."
Apache had worked once on a ranch of the Colonel's, but finding that cattle were not to be handled by the simple exercise of eloquence, nor posts set and pastures fenced in by the profession of virtuous convictions, had not remained long in his service. When I say "worked," I believe I do him an injustice. It is not on record that he ever did that, save on one occasion, and this was when the authorities at Ascension condemned him to provide a dollar a day to keep and cure a Mexican whom he had woundedin a drunken brawl. Dollars were not easily earned there, for labour was cheap, and a dollar a day for lying in bed was the best billet that that Mexican had ever had. As may be supposed, he was in no hurry to get well, and the matter (over which Bill waxed positively tearful when he alluded to it) was long the subject of amusement and laughter in the neighbourhood.
At one time he had been chief of scouts in an Apache war, his knowledge of the country in Northern Mexico being really considerable. In this capacity he had been brought into contact with Navajo Bill. The patronising style in which he talked of this personage was delicious.
"Navajo Willy?" he said; "oh, yes, I know Willy—a good boy, sir, a good boy!—ignorant, of course—no education, you know, sir; but he means well—he does what he can. He served under me once, but I found him quite useless. If I sent him out anywhere, he only got lost. However, I wasn't hard on him. We were down at Lake Palomas once, and General Bewel wanted a messenger to take a note over to a detachment of troops camped about ten miles off. So I started Willy off. I showed him the way myself.But it was no good—not a bit. In two hours he came back;hecouldn't find it. I sent a Mexican then, and when he brought the answer, I gave it to Willy. 'Here, Willy,' said I, 'take it to Bewel and say that you fetched it.'"
In point of age there was but little to choose between the two Bills, both being men of about five-and-forty. In conversational talents there was also some resemblance between them, although, in all other particulars, Navajo was an immeasurably better man than his former chief.
Apache's anxiety in behalf of his children was very touching. Paternal solicitude was a fine theme for him, and he often enlarged upon it. "There's the boys," he would say, "they're growing up, sir, and down here I can't give them the education they ought to have. I want to take 'em back to do their schooling in the States. If I could only get some regular work there—I shouldn't care how hard it was, or how poor the pay was—I would slave like a nigger to get my children well educated. And there's the girls; this ain't any place to raise girls; they don't get any virtue into 'em here. It ain't right. I do what I can, of course; I try to teach'em what's right, and I set 'em a good example. 'Be good to your mother, boys,' I always say; 'think of your mother, and be kind to her. If you get any money, give her half. And be honest! No matter how poor a man is, let him be honest.' My honour—my honour is what I look at! And I try to bring the boys up the same way. Am I right, gentlemen?—I leave it to you." We naturally applauded these noble sentiments. "Well, then, let's take a drink on it—let's hit her a lick;" and reaching for the bottle, he would proceed to fill all our glasses, and his own too.
He formally introduced us to every other man who entered the shop, usually concluding the introduction with some such remark as: "This is a good man, gentlemen; he used to bepresidenteof the town. Treat him, gentlemen; he may be useful to you some day." Treating the new acquaintance necessitated treating Bill as well. I merely note this as a coincidence, and do not in the least degree wish to insinuate that any base thought of self influenced his interest in our welfare.
To pass the time in the evening we had him into our room to talk to us; and, as he had never seen Joebefore, represented the latter as being a "tender-foot," or new-comer on the frontier. Since Joe was much better dressed than the rest of us, and, talking but little, did not betray his familiarity with frontier life, Apache believed us, and anxious to astonish "a gentleman from New York," surpassed himself. We had provided a bottle ofmascalto prime him with, but maliciously delayed producing it. By degrees, as he talked, his throat got drier and drier; he coughed and expectorated, and expectorated and coughed, and crossed first one leg and then the other, shifting in his seat, and fidgeting to such an extent that finally Don Cabeza could bear the exhibition of so much torture no longer, and told Navajo to hand him the bottle. With a look of gratitude that would have softened the heart of a Thug, Bill raised it to his lips. When he set it down again he had almost exchanged conditions with it. Now he was another man, and for the benefit of the "tender-foot," he "spread himself."
"Tracks! Well, when it came to tracking, he believed that he 'took the cake.' Tracks! ——! Why, he could tell whether they were made by a horse or a mare, and there was a slight difference,too, in geldings' tracks, which he would be only too glad to show the gentleman any day. He could tell whether the horse that he was tracking ran loose, or was ridden, packed, or led, and whether it belonged to a white man or an Indian. He could tell from the 'sign,' what part of the country, even what particular ranch it had fed on. It was a fact, that when he had handled cattle in Colorado, and in a part, too, where half-a-dozen herds ran together, and ranged over the same country, he had never wasted time in following up strays belonging to his neighbours, because he knew the track of every hoof in his own herd!"
But enough of Bill! He was fairly started now, and he did himself credit.In vino veritas, they say. But in Apache there was noveritas, and so themascalcould not affect him in this way. I have often thought that this proverb would have made an excellent text for one of Charles Lamb's "Popular Fallacies."
One of the horses fell sick during the night, and it became necessary to purchase a substitute before we set out next morning. This delayed us for some time. When finally we started with the invalid in tow, the Colonel discovered an ambitionto invent a short cut, which took us three or four miles astray. Returning, we had proceeded a mile or more along the road that we did know, when it was found that the grain-sack had been left behind, and consequently we were forced to go back to Ascension. We had started a little "on edge" that morning, and we reappeared at Don Juan's in the severest silence. Unconscious of his danger, that worthy taunted us with our oversight and made merry at our expense.
"He's taking big chances if he only knew it, ain't he?" said Navajo grimly, jerking his thumb towards Juan.
"Don't you feel, Joe, like getting down and beating him up a little, eh?" drawled the Colonel. "Couldn't you swing him around by the heels some—dust the side-walk, and knock a few flies off the wall with him?"
"No," replied Joe sturdily; "I haven't got any kick against Don Juan. He has treated us like a gentleman.Hedidn't leave the grain behind, andhedidn't take us any short cut. Quite right, Don Juan, 'No valle nada,' these chaps, eh?—They can't remember anything."
But long before we pitched camp in the evening, we had had a hearty laugh over the morning clouds.
The Boca Grande was an "Indian place," and strategically speaking there was no point in it that was fit to camp in, no point where, aided by cotton-woods, willow-bushes, cane-brake, long grass, broken ground, or the river bed, a band of Indians might not have approached unobserved within a few yards of a traveller. We trusted to luck, therefore, and chose a site without reference to the Apaches. The odds, of course, were always long against their showing at any given place, but there was never any certainty about it; and this was one of their haunts.
"Indians!" said the Colonel when some one alluded to them. "Well, if I kill four I shall be satisfied. If they come we can't help it; but they'd better not!—they won't. They know more in a day than we could tell them in a week. What a battle it would be, though, if they did come! Gettysburg and those kind would be just flirtations to it. There'd be you charging 'em; and Navajo, he'd get around behind them, and take them in rear, and scare the quill feathers out of them. And there'd be Joe raking them fore and aft, and enfilading them,and out-manœuvring them, and reconnoitring and changing his front, and just a-sousing it to them red-hot all the time. And as for me, I'd sit right here on this stone, under the bank, and sing to them, just to lure them on, like the Lorelei, and let you boys have all the glory of killing them. Or, maybe, I'd get on one of the six-shooter horses—a six-shooter horse is a heap better than a six-shooting gun in these cases—I'd get on one of them and go right back to Ascension to fetch up some help for you. I'm not wanting to put myself forward, anyhow; there isn't anything mean about me."
"That'd be all right, Colonel," said Navajo; "we should know where to find you when there was any fighting to be done. The boys do say that you're on handthen—sure!"
"How do you want these potatoes cut up?" irrelevantly inquired Joe, who was phlegmatically attending to business, and peeling some potatoes for supper.
"Cut them up just as you'd cut up the Apaches, Joe," said the Colonel.
"Well, how are they going to be cooked?"
"Saratoga chips are good enough for me," suggested the modest Navajo.
"Saratoga chips go then. Joe, you hear what the gentleman says," observed Don Cabeza. He was "bossing" the cooking himself that evening, and at that moment was engaged in stirring some beans that he was frying in the Mexican style, bacon-fat being substituted for lard. Cook-like he tasted them now. "Well, there!" he ejaculated admiringly—"there! When I get through with this, it will make you laugh. You boys won't know whether you are here, or sitting at the corner table at Delmonico's."
"No," said Joe, with a twinkle of dry humour in his kindly eyes, "we shan't know the difference. I always have beans and bacon-fat at Delmonico's—when there's enough to go round, that is."
"If we had only got into camp earlier, we might have shot some ducks," regretted Bill.
"There isn't anybody here that could have made a duck stew," remarked Joe gravely.
"Can you make a duck stew, Colonel?" I asked laughingly—for this was hischef-d'œuvrein culinary art.
"Can I make a duck stew! Can I make aduckstew!" he echoed rapturously. "Well, you may talk about your chickabiddies, and you chickaweewees, and your Smart Alicks, and your Joe-dandies and daisies, but when it comes to making a duck stew, I'm a darling! I can show you a trick with a hole in it. I don't want to make any boast about it, though; I can't help cooking well any more than Joe can help cooking badly. It's a gift. But duck stews! Lord! I can make a stew with ducks, and teal, and snipe, and potatoes, and chilies, and—and things of that kind, that will make a rheumatic man go out after dinner, and begin jumping backwards and forwards over the house, he'll feel so good."
Joe grunted disparagingly. "If it weren't any better than this coffee, he wouldn't jump far before he lay down and died," he observed, grimly.
"The coffee is bad," assented thechef; "it's bad coffee. But all that you have to do, Joe, is to step right down to the store, close by here, and get some more. There is no reason why you should put up with anything bad when you're camping out in the middle of a big city like this." And he proceeded to prove conclusively, that the fact that the coffeewas of inferior quality, was entirely the fault of the Deming store-keeper.
"When we get back, then, we must just drive up and shoot the handle off his door," said Joe cheerfully.
"Why, cer'nly," chimed in Navajo; "like those chaps used to up to Lone Mountain."
The particular incident to which he referred had taken place at a little mining village in New Mexico. It had become a custom amongst certain of the miners, when they came into town on Sunday "to have a time," sooner or later in the day to indulge in revolver practice at the handle of the door of Platt's saloon. Platt could not be said exactly to have encouraged this; but since it brought him custom, and opposition might have transferred the attentions of his clients from the door-handle to himself, he submitted to it with more or less grace. One day he engaged a quiet and industrious youth—a Dutch boy—to assist him in his business, and as he intended to be absent from home on the following Sunday, he informed him of the above circumstance. The good youth evinced a disposition to resist the ungodly miners. Upon the whole, Platt counselled him not to do so, but at his request lefta Winchester and six-shooter with him, and gave him free permission to exercise his own discretion in the matter. On Saturday evening the young bar-tender removed an adobe brick from the wall beside the door, and commending himself to Heaven, slept peacefully, confident of the justice of his cause. The following morning the miners appeared as usual in town, and drank freely. But when the boy demanded payment for what he supplied them with, they took advantage of his youth, and replied that "There was no hurry about it, for he was still young; they thought that they might perhaps pay him some day. He might ask them again when his moustache had grown a little mite." Things got lively, and finally they repaired to the street and commenced shooting at the door-handle. This was where the real trouble originated. But it was soon over. Putting the muzzle of his Winchester through the loophole, the bar-tender began to shoot, too. When he had finished, five of his late customers lay stretched out on the road, four of whom died immediately, and the fifth shortly afterwards. It is recorded that so pleased was Mr. Platt with his assistant's devotion that he advanced him rapidly in his service, andsubsequently took him into partnership with him. I suppose that he married his master's daughter eventually, and lived happily ever afterwards.
The history is, probably, the American version of the everlasting tale of that artful young clerk who dropped a pin unnoticed in the presence of his master, the great merchant, and when the latterwaslooking, ostentatiously picked it up again and set it in the collar of his coat.
A rather amusing yarn followed this, detailing an incident that had taken place at the little neighbouring village of Eureka. Mr. McKees, the superintendent of a mine there, had nailed up a board notice outside the office, forbidding revolver practice on the premises. News of this was brought by some one who had seen it to a saloon hard by, where Black Jack, Russian Bill, Broncho Billy, and some other well-known "rustlers" were drinking.
"How's that for high, boys?" concluded the narrator, when he had told his tale.
"That's on top," declared Black Jack; "that takes the cake. It's coming to something, if a chap can't shoot his gun off where he likes in a free country."
"It's a perfect outrage," said Broncho.
"Let's go right down and attend to it at once," proposed Russian Bill.
Black Jack assented, suggesting that Russian Bill, who was a scholar, should read the notice aloud, and he himself then shoot it off.
They started, two or three of their associates, armed with Winchesters, going with them, to occupy a position behind the "dump," near the mouth of the shaft, and see fair play. Russian Bill having read the notice, Black Jack drew a long six-shooter, and opened fire. The office was constructed of boards, and afforded but little protection, therefore, to its inmates. The first shot spoilt the leg of the chair in which the superintendent of the mine was seated; the second lodged in his desk. But Mr. McKees had already left the room, and gone to "take the air" upon the hill-side, nor did he return until the nobility and gentry who were visiting him had shot the board off, and carried the splinters away in triumph.
Black Jack was a fine shot, and remarkably quick. He prided himself upon his ability as a hair-cutter, and was jealous of any rivalry in this line. A friend of his once had the temerity to advance his own claims to distinction as a barber.
"Oh, pshaw, Jack!" he said, "I can cut hair every durned bit as good as you."
But the words had scarcely left his lips when there was a report, and a bullet ploughed through his locks, just grazing the skin, and leaving a bald track.
"I guess you can't," rejoined Black Jack. "Look at that!"
Such tales as these are current coin out West, and the number of them in circulation is countless. How far they are true no one can pretend to say, nor does it matter much.
We sought the blankets early, and were up again before it was light; indeed, by the time that