Tales of Aztlan; The Romance of a Hero of Our Late Spanish-American War, Incidents of Interest from the Life of a Western Pioneer and Other Tales

by George Hartmann

  CHAPTER VII.

  THE FIGHT IN THE SAND HILLS. THE PHANTOM DOG

  A number of years had I lived with my relatives when uncle found itexpedient to sell out his business. He had prospered wonderfully in hiscommercial ventures. Long since had his coffers absorbed most of themoney circulating within his sphere of trade. Thereafter he acceptedcommercial paper in payment for merchandise, and trade grew immensely.Our customers soon learned how easy it was to affix their signatures topromissory notes and to mortgages on their lands or cattle, theirhorses, sheep, crops, and chattels. Of course there was a littleinterest to be paid on the indebtedness, but as it was merely atrifling one and a half per centum per month or eighteen per centyearly, it was of no consequence. And it was so easy to pay your debts.Just think of it, people bought everything they needed and longed forat the store and paid for it by simply signing their names to severalpapers. When the day of payment came, they could liquidate their debtsby renewing their obligations. They simply signed a new set of similarpapers with the interest compounded and added to the original debt.Surely Don Guillermo was conceded to stand highest in popularestimation of any set of men who had ever come to the Rio Grande. Hadhe not shown the people how to do business in a convenient and easymanner? Under such a system nobody worried or labored very much andlife was like a pleasant dream. But alas! there has always been abeginning and an ending to everything under the sun, good or evil. Theawakening from an easy life's dream was occasioned by a crushing blow.It fell on the day of final reckoning, when Don Guillermo, my gooduncle, thought the time was propitious to realize something tangible onsundry duly signed, sealed, and witnessed instruments. There was arumpus; neither earthquake nor cyclone would have caused a greatercommotion in the community. What, then, did this lying gringo mean byresorting to the trickery of the United States law courts and the powerand services of the county sheriff? Why did he wrest their propertyfrom them? Had this gringo not always accepted their signatures as alegal tender for the payment of their debts? Had he not told them timeand again that their handwriting was better than gold? If uncle hadfallen into the clutches of these furious people, he would undoubtedlyhave been lynched. But he had wisely disposed of all his property inthe country and had left with his family for the States. I remained inthe service of the buyer of and successor to his business.

  Soon after I began to feel lonesome, restless and dissatisfied, andthat life among the natives was not as pleasant and satisfactory asformerly may be easily imagined. In fact, the gringos were nowcordially hated and envied by a certain class, the element of greatestinfluence among the people. This produced a feeling of unpleasantnessnot to be overcome, and I resolved to emigrate to California, overland,by way of Arizona. I longed for the companionship of people of my ownrace and wanted to see more of the world. There was an opportunity togo to a mining town of northern Arizona, with several ox-teams whichwere freighting provisions. The freighter, Don Juan Mestal, assured methat he was very glad to have the pleasure and comfort of my companyand would not listen to an offer of remuneration on my part. He saidthere was the choice of two routes; one road passed through the countryof the Navajo Indians and the other road led past Zuhl, the isolatedPueblo village. Don Juan said that he would not go by way of Zuni, ifhe could avoid it, as he was prejudiced against this tribe. Not thatthey were hostile or dangerous, but he had acquired a positiveaversion, amounting to abhorrence, for those peaceful people when he,as a boy, accompanied his father on a trading expedition there. At thattime he witnessed the revolting execution of a score of Navajos who hadbeen apprehended as spies by the Zunis. These unfortunates came totheir village as visiting guests, it being in the time of the harvestof maize, when these Indians celebrate their great Thanksgiving feast.A young Navajo chief, who led the visiting party, aroused the ire ofthe old medicine chief of the tribe, who had lately added a newattraction to his household, beshrewing himself with another lovelyyoung squaw. It was said that the enamored damsel had made preparationsto elope with the gallant Navajo chief, but was betrayed by thetelltale barking of the dogs, great numbers of which infest all Indianvillages. The old doctor accused the Navajos of espionage and had themtaken by surprise and imprisoned in an underground foul den. Then metthe chiefs of the tribe in their estufa, or secret meeting place, topass judgment on the culprits. The old medicine chief smoked himselfinto a trance in order to receive special instructions from the greatSpirit regarding the degree of punishment to be inflicted on theunlucky Navajos. After sleeping several hours, he awoke and announcedthat he had dreamed the Navajos were to be clubbed to death. Aftersunrise the next morning these poor Indians met their doom in thepublic square of the village unflinchingly in the presence of the wholepopulation.

  They were placed in a row, facing the sun, about ten feet apart. A Zuniexecutioner, armed with a war club, was stationed in front of eachvictim, and another one, armed likewise, stood behind him. A war chiefraised his arms and yelled, and forty clubs were raised in air. Thenthe great war drum, or tombe, boomed out the knell of death. There wasa sickening, crashing thud, and twenty Navajos fell to earth withcrushed skulls, each cabeza having been whacked simultaneously, rightand left, fore and aft, by two stone clubs in the hands of a pair ofdevils.

  It had always been an enigma to me that the Pueblo Indians, who werenot to be matched as fighters against the Apache and Navajo had beenable to defend their villages against the onslaught of these fiercetribes, their hereditary enemies. Don Juan Mestal enlightened me onthat topic. He said the explanation therefor was to be found in acertain religious superstition of the Navajos and Apaches, whichcircumstance the Pueblo Indians took advantage of and exploited to thesaving of their lives. When they had reason to expect an attack ontheir villages, the Pueblo laid numerous mines and torpedoes on all theapproaches and streets of their towns. While these mines did notpossess the destructive power of dynamite or gunpowder, they wereequally effective and powerful, and never failed to repulse the enemy,especially if reinforced by hand grenades of like ammunition, thrown bysquaws and pappooses from the flat roofs of their houses. By some meansor other it had become known to the descendants of Montezuma that whenan Apache stepped on something out of the ordinary "he scentedmischief" and believed himself unclean and befouled with dishonor, andfancied himself disgraced before God and man; and forthwith he wouldhie himself away to do penance at the shrine of the nearest watersprite. This superstition they brought from Asia, their native land.

  When the day of our departure drew near, I visited my numerous friendsto bid them farewell and receive many like wishes in return. I must ownthat I felt a pang of sadness when I saw tears well up in the innocenteyes of sweet maidens and saw the fires dimmed in the black orbs oflovely matrons whom I had held often in my arms to the measure andtuneful melody of the fantastic wild fandango; musical Andalusianstrains which words cannot describe--soul-stirring, enchanting,promising and denying, plaintive or jubilant, songs from Heaven orwails from the depths of Hades. Here I lived the happiest hours of mylife, but being young, I did not realize it then.

  When I came to the house of Don Reyes Alvarado, who was my chum andbosom friend, and also of like age, he gave me a pleasant surprise. Heinformed me that there would be a dance at the Hancho Indian'ssettlement that same night, one of those ceremonial events which I hadlong desired to attend in order to study the customs and habits ofthese descendants of the Aztecs. Their social dances are inspired byancient customs and are the outbursts of the dormant, barbaric rites ofa religion which these people were forced to abandon by theirconquering masters, the Spaniards. Outwardly and visibly Christians,taught to observe the customs of the Roman Catholic Church and toconform to its ritual, these people, who were the scum and overflowfrom villages of Pueblo Indians, were yet Aztec heathens in theconsciousness of their souls and inclination of their hearts.

  Shortly after sunset we were on our way to the sand dunes of the RioGrande, where these poor outcasts had squatted and built their humblehomes of terron, or sod, which they cut
from the alkali-laden soil ofthe vega. They held their dance orgies in the estufa, the meeting houseof the tribe. This was a long, low structure built of adobe, probably ahundred feet long and nine feet wide, inside measure. The building wasso low that I could easily lay the palm of my uplifted hand against theceiling of the roof, which was made of beams of cottonwood, coveredwith sticks off which the bark had been carefully peeled, the whole hadthen been covered with clay a foot in depth. The floor of this long,low tunnel-like room was made of mud which had been skilfully tamperedwith an admixture of short cut straw and had been beaten into theproper degree of hardness. Dampened at intervals, this floor was quiteserviceable to dance on. There were no windows or ventilators in thishall and only one door at the end. This was made out of a slab of hewnwood and was just high and wide enough to admit a good sized dog. Thehall was brilliantly lighted by a dozen mutton tallow dips, which weredistributed about the room in candelabra of tin, hanging on themud-plastered and whitewashed walls. The orchestra consisted of onepiece only, an ancient war drum, or tombe, and was located at thefarther end of the room. It was beaten by an Indian, who was, ifpossible, more ancient than the drum. As we approached we heard themuffled sound of the drum within. "Caramba, amigo!" said my friend;"they are at it already, and judging from the sound, they are very gayto-night. Madre santissima! I remember that this is a great night forthese Indians, as it is the anniversary of the Noche Triste, which theycelebrate in commemoration of the Aztec's victory over the Spaniardswhen the Indians almost wiped their enemies off the face of the earth.Senor, to tell the truth, rather would I turn my horse's head homeward.Pray, let us return!" "And why, amigo," I asked. "Because this hasalways been a day of ill luck for our family," said Don Reyes. "Itbegan with the misfortune of the famed Knight Don Pedro Alvarado, thebravest of men and the right hand of Don Fernando Cortez. In the bloodyretreat of the Spaniards from Mexico, in their fight with the Aztecs,during the Noche Triste, Don Pedro Alvarado, from whom we weredescended, lost his mare through a deadly arrow. "Muy bien, amigo DonReyes," said I; "if you fear these people, I advise you to return hometo Dona Josefita, but I shall go on alone." "I fear not man or beast!"flared up Don Reyes, "as you well know, friend, but these are heathenfiends, not human, who worship a huge rattlesnake, which they keep inan underground den and feed with the innocent blood of Christian babes.Lead on, senor, I shall follow. I see it is as Dona Josefita, my littlewife, says: "If these young gringos crave a thing, there is no use indenying them, for they seem to compel! To the very door of that uncannyplace I follow you, amigo, but enter therein I shall not, unless I befirst absolved from my sins and shriven by the padre."

  We had now arrived at the door of the estufa (oven), where theentertainment was going on, full blast. I alighted and my friend tookcharge of my horse and stationed himself at the door while I got downon all fours and crawled inside. I seated myself on a little bench atone side of the entrance. When my eyes got accustomed to the denseatmosphere of the place, I observed that the room was full of people,dancing in couples with a peculiar slow-waltz step. The ladies stayedin their places while the men made the rounds of the hall. After a fewturns with a lady, they shuffled along to the next one, continuallyexchanging their partners. As the dancers passed me by, one afteranother, they noticed me, and many among them scowled and looked angryand displeased. Suddenly the drum stopped for a few minutes. Then itbegan in a faster tempo. Now the men remained stationary, while theladies made the circuit of the room and each one in her turn passed infront of me. They looked lovely in their costumes of finely embroideredsnow-white single garments, trimmed with many silver ornaments andtrinkets and in their short calico skirts and beautiful moccasins.Their limbs were tastefully swathed in white buckskin leggins, whichcompleted the costume.

  Faster and faster beat the drum, and the sobbing, rhythmic soundthrilled my senses and filled my heart with an indescribable weird,fierce longing. I saw a maiden approach taller and finer than the rest.One glance of her soft, wild eyes and I flew to her arms. "Back,Indians!" I shouted, "honor your queen!" and entered the lists of thefrolicsome dance. Wilder beat the drum and faster. As the old Indianwarmed to his work, he broke out in a doleful, monotonous song, thewords of which I did not understand. It sounded to me like this:

  Anna-Hannah-- Anna-Hannah-- May-Ah!-- Anna-Hannah-Sarah-Wah! Moolow-Hoolow, Ji-Hi-Tlack! Anna-Hannah-- May-Ah-Ha!

  So it went on indefinitely.

  To lay this troubled spirit I tossed him a handful of coins, with theunfortunate result that his guttural song became, if anything, moreloud and boisterous. I had no thought of exchanging my partner, as theAztec maiden clung to me. With closed eyes and parted lips she moved asin a blissful dream. I have known Christian people become frantic underthe impetus of great religious excitement and I have seen them act verystrangely, also have I seen Indians similarly affected during theirmedicine-ghost dances. Now I, who had not thought it possible ofmyself, had become more savage and uncontrollable than any one. Isuppose it was the irritating, monotonous sound of the war drum thatdid it, jarring my nerves, and the peculiar Indian odor in the stiflinghot air of the close room, enhanced by the exhilarating sensation ofthreatening danger, and that in the presence of the adored sex.Assuredly all this was more than enough to set me off, as I amnaturally impulsive and of a high-strung nervous temperament.

  I must say that considering the modest costumes of these Indian ladiesand their bashful and shrinking disposition, it does seem strange thatthey should fascinate one like myself of the Saxon race. To be sure thesight of the bared shoulders and necks of society belles when undressedin the decollete fashion of their ball gowns ravishes and gluts oursensuality, but a momentary glimpse of the Indian maid's brown kneeflashing by during the excitement of the fandango is just assuggestive, and the inch of hand-made embroidery on the edge of theirshort skirts is as effective as priceless lace on gowns of worth. Andthe Indian fashion has this to recommend it, that it is the lessexpensive of the two costumes. Ever watchful, ever on the alert, I sawthe sheen of a knife flash from its scabbard in the hazy air, and mybeautiful partner shivered and moaned in my arms. "Dog of an Indian,dare and die," shouted I, angrily. Four times I made the circuit of theroom, and when again opposite the entrance of this man-kennel, I heardthe voice of my faithful friend, Don Reyes Alvarado, calling meanxiously. I gave my lovely partner in charge of her tender-heartedsisters, for the poor wild thing had fainted and lay limply in my arms.The strong arm of my companion grasped me and drew me out into thefresh air, where I almost collapsed, overcome.

  "Surely, amigo," said Reyes, "you will not blame me now for notentering, but you have endurance, for Dios! I should not have survivedso long. Thank God you came out alive! When I saw them pass in knives,I had my doubts and momentarily expected to hear the report of yourrevolver. But when I saw you pass by infatuated with Jtz-Li-Cama, thecacique's daughter and wife of the murderous scoundrel, El Macho, thenI gave you up. Oh, see what is happening now. Amigo, you have broken upthe dance. So it seemed. The drum was silent now and we heard thevoices of men arguing in the Aztec idiom. Of a sudden the lights wereextinguished and the crowd came out with a rush, and silently theystole away in the darkness.

  "Now, amigo," said Reyes, "let me tell you something, which may haplyserve you well. Knowing that an American accomplishes things which aMexican like myself must let alone, I advise you to try for the hiddentreasure of La Gran Quivira. Seeing that you are in the good graces ofJtz-Li-Cama, you might prevail with the cacique to guide you. He issaid to be the only living man who knows the secret of the trove in theruins of the sacred temple of the ancient city. The Indians believethat this treasure, which the Aztecs hid from the Spaniards, is guardedby a terrible phantom dog, the specter of one of the great dogs ofFernando Cortez which ravened among their Aztec ancestors. They fearthe specter of this fabled Perro de la Malinche more than anything elseon earth, as it is said to harrow their souls in Hades as it ravenedtheir bodies when in the flesh."

  After smoking a
few cigarritos, my friend proposed to ride home, asthere was really nothing else to be done. We rode slowly along,enjoying the beautiful night of this faultless climate, and I shallever remember this night to my last day. There was a pleasant,refreshing odor in the air, the scent of the wild thyme which grows inthese sand dunes. The moon rose over the Manzana range and flooded thebroad valley with its soft, silvery rays. Suddenly, at a sharp turn ofthe trail, we found ourselves surrounded by silent forms arisen fromthe misty ground. "Don Reyes Alvarado," spoke the voice of the Indian,known as the macho, "I have come for revenge and am now ready to wipeout the insults you heaped on me when you charged me with the theft ofyour calves. I challenge thee to fight. Alight from thy horse, cowardlySpaniard! To-night of all nights shalt thou feel the Indians' bladebetween thy ribs." "Fight him, amigo," I said. "I shall enforce fairplay." But my friend Reyes whom I knew to be a man of both strength andcourage, weakened, being cowed with the superstition of the unluckyNoche Triste. "Tomorrow I shall fight thee, Indian," he answered "notat nighttime, like a thieving coyote." "If thou wert not astride thyhorse and out of my reach, thou wouldst not dare say that to me, thoucuckold dupe of the Americans!" sneered the Indian. This insult to mycompanion angered me, and I demanded a retraction and an apologytherefor from the Indian. When the macho flatly refused and repeatedthe insult in a more aggravating manner, I replied that I feared not tomeet him or any other goatherding Indian and was ready to fight him onthe spot.

  Saying this, I dismounted and threw my horse's bridle to my friendReyes to hold. Then the cacique, or Pueblo chief, the father ofJtz-Li-Cama, appeared and demanded our weapons. "I shall not interferein this fight, senores," said he, "if you surrender your weapons to me,the lawful alguacil (officer) of this district." He then took themacho's knife, and I gave him my revolver and stripped for the fray.

  I advanced and scratched a circle of about twelve feet diameter in thedeep sand with my foot, then I stepped to the center of this ring andawaited my antagonist. I cautioned my friend Reyes to see to it that noone else overstepped the line. To the lonely sand dunes of the RioGrande unwittingly I thus introduced the manly sport of the prize ring.But the battle was not fought for lucre or fame, nor according to theLondon Prize Ring Rules; it was fought in defense of a friend's honor,and the stake was life or death. The Indian made a rush for me, but Iavoided him and warded off his blows. I did not touch him till I saw mychance, and then I tapped him under the chin which sent him sprawling.He arose promptly and came for me in a rage, when I felled him with ablow on the head. Again he came, and this time he gave me a stunningblow in the face, which maddened me so, that I took the offensive andlaid him low with a terrific hit. I was now thoroughly infuriated andthrew all caution to the winds. When he arose once more, I attackedhim. He took to his heels and I followed him up. I noticed then thatthe whole crowd of Indians were running after us, but I had now becomereckless and did not mind. Then I stumbled over a root and fell facedown in the sand. Before I could arise fully the macho had turned andthrown himself upon me. I managed to turn over on my back and grippedhim by throat and face, so that he was really in my power, and I feltthat he was subdued so that I could easily force him under, and, smallwonder, for with the terrible grip of my hand had I once crushed aman's fingers in a wrestling match. Now I used the macho's body as ashield against the furious onslaught of his people, who attacked mewith rocks, clubs, and anything they could lay hands to. I thought, andI never ceased thinking and planning for one moment, that the affairlooked very serious for me, when I saw the cacique approach with mypistol in hand, exclaiming, "Now, gringo, thou shalt die, on the altarof the god, at the sacred shrine of Aztlan, I shall lay thy quiveringheart!" In vain I looked for help from my companion, who had soughtsafety in flight. Something had to be done and that quickly. Surely Ihad one trusty friend, true as steel, who would not forsake me in theextremity of my peril. I bethought me of my little "American bulldog"which I had picked up in the cars in Kansas, and which had ever sincefollowed me faithfully. "Sic-semper-Cerberus-Sic!" My right hand stoleto my hip, a short sharp bark, and the treacherous cacique fell overwith a crimson stain on his forehead. At the same moment a weird,uncanny yelp pierced the night, and a tremendous shaggy phantom cloudobscured the slender sickle of the moon. Terrified, the Indiansscreamed "El Perro! El Perro de la Malinche!" and shrilly the voices offrightened squaws took up the refrain, "Perro! Perro! Gringo Perro!"

  When I staggered to my feet, I was alone, sorely bruised and wounded,but master of the field. I recovered my revolver, which lay at my feetand contrived to mount my horse, whose bridle had caught on thegreasewood brush, and I headed for home.

  Not long thereafter I met my friend Reyes, who was followed by aretinue of peons. "Gracias a Dios. Amigo!" he exclaimed, on seeing me."I came after your body, if it were to be found, and here you arealive. When I heard the report of firearms and knowing that thosedevils had your weapon, I feared the worst. How on earth did you manageto escape them? Seeing you down and beset by the whole tribe, I gaveyou up for dead and fled."

  I told my friend that with God's help and the phantom dog's assistanceI had beaten off my assailants, and I thought that the cacique had beensorely bitten by the dog. Dona Josefita was very anxious and excited.When she saw me coming, she cried, "The saints preserve us, oh here heis! Mercy, how he looks, pobrecito! he is cut all to pieces. Hurry,Reyes, bring him in here and lay him gently down. Hombre, husband,coward! how couldst thou abandon thy friend who fought for thy honor,not fearing the death. I wager that pale hussy, Jtz-Li-Cama, was, asusual, the cause of this strife between men!"

  The kind lady then attended deftly and skillfully to the dressing of mywounds, applying soothing herbs and healing ointments, which tended toallay the fever, and she nursed me with the tenderest care, so that ina week's time I was as well as ever, though not without a feeling ofregret for my too speedy recovery.

  Of course, there arose the rumor of a fierce battle between Americansand Indians. To silence this silly talk and to avoid unpleasantcomplications, I surrendered myself to the alcalde of the precinct andaccused myself of having disturbed the peace of the realm. Pleading mycase, I stated that as there was nobody but the peace disturbersinvolved, and as said parties did not make any further claim upon theHonorable Court, therefore, under the statute of the Territory and theConstitution of the United States, the law required that the courtmulct the guilty parties in the payment of a nominal fine and dischargethe culprits. The Honorable Court decreed that I as an American oughtto know the American law best, and discharged me after I paid myself-imposed fine. The administering of justice in cases of importancewas, of course, relegated to the United States Circuit Courts, butUncle Sam did not care to meddle with the many troublesome alcaldes orjustices of the peace, as he did not understand the Spanish languagevery well. This was certainly humiliating and embarrassing, but who canblame him, as no one is over anxious to be rated an ignorant person.

  My Mexican friends decided to give a farewell party in my honor.Accordingly they made great preparations. They secured the largestsala, or hall, in the township and scoured the country formusicians--fiddlers and guitar players. Every person of any socialnotability was invited. They drew the line of social respectability atpeons, or bondmen. This was a happy-go-lucky caste of people whopossessed no property nor anything else, and consequently they had nocares and were under no responsibility of any kind, as the wealthierclasses, who virtually owned them, had to provide for theirnecessities. The system of peonage in New Mexico had been abolishedwith the abolition of slavery in the United States, but the peons didnot realize the wretchedness of their deplorable social status, and intheir ignorance they regarded their bondage as a privilege, believingthemselves fortunate to have their wants provided for by theirpatrones. They were treated kindly by their masters and looked upon aspoor relations and intimate but humble friends.

  The entertainment was to be of the velorio (wake) type, which begins asa prayer meeting and ends in a dance. My friends exerted
themselves tothe utmost to make this event the social climax of the season. Theysent a committee to the pueblo of Isleta for several goatskins full ofnative wine, and incidentally they borrowed San Augustin, the pueblo'sfamous image saint, who they intended should preside over the velorio.As this prayer meeting was to be in my honor and for the sake ofinvoking the protection of the saints on my journey, they thought itbest to procure San Augustin, who being the patron saint of the heathenIsleta Indians, would not mind giving a heretic Protestant gringo agood send-off, as he was accustomed to deal with heresy. They alsoprocured a dozen fat mutton sheep, which were to be barbecued andserved with chile pelado to the invited guests, surely a tempting menuand hot! The ladies baked bollos, tamales and frijoles. Melons andcantaloupes were brought in by the cartload. I was waited upon by acommittee and received a formal invitation; for everything was done ingrand Spanish style. When I arrived at the festive hall the ceremoniesbegan. The ladies knelt before San Augustin, praying and chantingalternately. I took my customary station at the door, as master of theartillery. At the singing of a certain stanza and after the words,"Angeles, y Seraphim es! Santo! Santo! Santo!" I received my cue fromone of the deacons who gave the order: "Fuego, maestro!" and Idischarged my double barreled shotgun and a brace of six shooters inlightning-like succession. Surely this was pious devotion, properlyemphasized, and it kept San Augustin from falling asleep. I used up apound of gunpowder that night, and this was said to have been thegrandest, most successful velorio ever held in that part of the world.At eleven o'clock I announced that my battery was overheated and toodangerous to reload, which stopped the praying and the grand bailebegan. There were several hundred dancing couples, who enjoyedthemselves to the utmost until sunrise, and nobody thought of leavingfor home until everything eatable and liquid was disposed of.

  Now the date of our departure had arrived, and very sad, indeed, was Ito leave these people who had done their very best to make me feel athome with them and who seemed to be really fond of me. I consoled DonaJosefita somewhat with the promise that I would return some day andfind her the treasure of La Gran Quivira. Don Juan Mestal, thefreighter, seemed as reluctant to leave as I was; something was alwaysturning up to delay our start. But at last we were off.

  After three days of travel, we came to a small town, where I met aMexican whom I knew on the Rio Grande, where he had formerly lived. Heinvited me cordially to the wedding of his sister, which was to be onthe next day at old Fort Wingate, an abandoned fort, and then a Mexicansettlement. This man said that he had come on purpose to meet me, as hehad heard of my intentions to leave the country. Although I did notlike the man, who was said to be jealous of Americans, I accepted hisurgent invitation more from curiosity to learn what he meant to do thanfor other reasons.

  The next morning I started early from camp and rode over to the littletown, distant fifteen miles. When I arrived in front of my prospectivehost's house I caught a glimpse of two men, who were sneaking offtoward an old corral. Then I knew what was in the wind, for those twomen were known to me as desperate cutthroat thieves and highwaymen;their specialty was to waylay and murder American travelers. My kindfriend professed to be overmuch delighted at my arrival. He took chargeof my horse and invited me into his house, where I met the bridalcouple and their friends, who were carousing and gambling. I joined andmade merry with them. At ten o'clock the whole party made ready toproceed to the chapel, where the marriage ceremony was to be performed.I simulated the part of a very inebriated person, a condition whichthey looked forward to with hope and satisfaction, and told them that Iwould stay at the house to await their return. When everybody had leftI thought I might as well get under way, feeling lonesome. I went outand around to the rear of the house, where the corral was, to get myhorse, but found the gate fastened with chains and securely locked. Thecorral walls were built of adobe, and the two walls of it were acontinuation of the side walls of the house, and its end wall formed anenclosure or backyard. My horse was there, and I found my saddle in oneof the rooms of the building, hidden under a blanket. I entered thecorral through the back door of the house, caught and saddled my horse,and then led him out to the street. This was a very laughable manner ofleave-taking. The house was cut up into a labyrinth of small rooms,just large enough for a horse to turn around in, and the doors were lowand narrow. As I could not find the outer door, I led my horsesuccessively into every room in the house.

  There is no furniture such as we use in a typical Spanish dwelling, nobedsteads, tables, or chairs. The inmates squat on divans arranged onthe floor around the walls of the rooms, and at nighttime they spreadtheir bedding on the floors. Some of the rooms were nicely carpetedwith Mexican rugs. My horse must have thought he had come to a suite ofstables, for he acted accordingly. He nosed around after grain and hay,whinnied and pawed, and seemed to enjoy himself generally. At last Ifound the right door, came out into the street and rode to the churchto tender my best wishes to the happy couple and bid them adios. Whenthe party emerged from the chapel they seemed to be very much surprisedat seeing me. I told my host that I regretted to leave them so early inthe day, but had an appointment to keep elsewhere. I would ride slowlyout of town so that they could overtake me easily, should they wish tosee me later, but nobody came, and after several hours I caught up withmy companions.