THE PADRON
"What do you mean?" cried Antonio. "How do you know? I thought you said
you had never heard of him."
"We hadn't," replied Dick, "until you mentioned his name, but from your
description we have no doubt we saw him some months ago up here at the
head of the valley."
With this by way of preface, my companion related to our new
acquaintance the particulars of our "interview" with the "little giant,"
as he called him.
"It must be the same man," said Antonio. "I wonder what he was doing so
far away from his own mountain. You say he shot the wolf with a
copper-headed arrow? That's something I should like to investigate, if
only the padron were not so dead set against my going up into the
mountain. Where does he get his copper? In fact----" He paused to
consider, and then went on: "Yes; I don't see why I shouldn't tell
you--my uncle won't go himself, and he won't let me go, so I may as
well tell _you_. The truth is that the reason why I was so anxious to
make an excursion up there was just that--to find out where El Tejon
gets his copper. And not only he, but the villagers down here. Every
house in Hermanos has its copper bowl and dipper. They are hammered out
of lumps of native copper; some of them must weigh five or six pounds.
Where did they come from? Lumps of copper of that size were not washed
down the streams--they were dug up. But by whom, and where?"
I felt a great inclination to tell him. He had been so friendly and
communicative that I began to feel rather uncomfortable at the thought
that we were drawing all this information from him under what might be
regarded as false pretences.
I was pretty sure that Dick would be feeling much the same--for among
boys, as I have many a time noticed, there is nothing more catching than
open-heartedness--and I was right; for, glancing at him to see what he
thought, I caught his eye, when he immediately raised his eyebrows a
trifle, as much as to say, "Shall I tell him?"
"Yes," said I, aloud. "I think so. Though we must remember, Dick, that
it isn't altogether our secret."
Dick nodded, and turning to the young Mexican, who was gazing at us
open-eyed, wondering what we were talking about, he said:
"Senor Antonio, my friend and I agree that it isn't quite fair to you to
let you go on telling us these things without our telling you something
in return. As Frank says, it is not altogether our own secret, but at
the same time we don't think it is quite a square deal to get all these
particulars from you and to keep you in the dark about ourselves. I can
tell you this much, anyhow: that our object in coming down here was to
find out where those same lumps of copper did come from."
"Why, how did _you_ know anything about them?" cried Antonio, opening
his eyes wider still.
"I passed through Hermanos about eighteen months ago," replied Dick, "in
company with a German naturalist, Herr Bergen, when we noticed the great
number of copper bowls and things, and the sight of them reminded the
professor of a story he had heard of an old copper mine, abandoned more
than a hundred years ago, supposed to be somewhere down in this
country. The story the professor told us is the story which we think we
have no business to repeat, but I can tell you this much, at least, that
it seemed to indicate the Dos Hermanos as the site of the old mine; and
so we got leave to come down here to see if we couldn't trail it up."
"Is that so? What fun you will have. I wish I could go with you. But
that, I know, is out of the question: the padron would not consent, and
I could not go against his will. But if I can help you I shall be very
glad. Does the story you refer to indicate which of the two peaks is the
right one?"
"No, it doesn't," replied Dick. "We suppose that the copper used to be
brought down to the _Casa_ on pack-burros, and we thought there might be
the remains of a trail down here in the valley. That is what we were
doing when you rode up:--looking for the trail; and we thought perhaps
we had found it when we discovered this indentation in the soil that we
have been following."
"And I believe you have!" cried Antonio. "That's just what you have! It
goes on straight southward from here, very plain, to within half a mile
of the _Casa_ and then seems to die out for some reason. But, that it is
the old trail I feel certain. Your copper mine is up there on the north
peak as sure as----"
He stopped short, his enthusiasm suddenly died out, and pulling a long
face, he gazed at us rather blankly.
"Well?" asked Dick.
"I was forgetting. There's something else up there on the north peak."
"What's that?"
"The Badger!"
"That's so!" cried Dick. "I'd forgotten him, too. Do you suppose he
would interfere with us?"
"That's more than I can say. From what the padron has told me, I imagine
it is only to him that El Tejon objects, and perhaps also to me as one
of the family; but I'm not sure about that. Look here! I'll tell you
what I'll do. I'll just ride home and ask him what he thinks. You stay
here. I'll be back in half an hour."
"You are very kind," said my partner. "But why should we trouble you to
come back here? We'll ride down with you."
To our surprise the young fellow flushed and looked embarrassed, but
recovering in a moment, he said:
"Come on, then. But before we go, let me tell you something. The reason
I hesitated was that I feared you might not receive a very hearty
welcome from the padron. The truth of the matter is--to put it plainly,
once for all--he hates strangers, and above all he hates the Americans.
I am sorry it should be so, but so it is. The feeling is not uncommon
among the older Mexicans: those who went through the war of '46; and if
you stop to think of it, it isn't altogether unreasonable. According to
the padron's view of the matter, his native country was invaded without
cause or justice; he, himself, fought against the invader; his own
brother and many of his friends were killed; and finally, he saw the
land where he was born torn away from its old moorings and attached to
the country of the enemy."
This defence of his fellow-countryman, which the young Mexican delivered
with much earnestness and feeling, was a revelation to me. Hitherto I
had only considered the war with Mexico from our side, glorying in our
success and admiring--very rightly--the bravery of our soldiers. That
the Mexicans, themselves, might have a point of view of their own had
never occurred to me, until this young fellow thus held up their side of
the picture for me to see.
"That's a matter I never thought of before," said I; "but when you do
stop to think of it, it is _not_ surprising that the older generation of
Mexicans should have no liking for us."
"No," Dick chimed in; "and I don't think you can blame them, either."
"I'm glad you see it that way," said Antonio. "It makes things all
comfortable for me. So, now, let us get along. And if the padron doesn't
seem best pleased to see you, you will know why."
Following along the line of the supposed trail, which continued in
general to be pretty plain, we presently passed alongside of a high bank
of earth to which our guide called our attention.
"Just ride up here a minute," said he. "Now, do you see how this
earth-bank forms a perfect square, measuring about two hundred yards
each way? What do you make of that?"
"It was evidently built up," said I; "it can't be a natural formation.
But what the earth was piled up for, I can't see."
"I think I can," remarked Dick. "If I'm not mistaken, this is the site
of an old pueblo."
"Just what I think," responded Antonio. "An old pueblo which probably
stood here before ever the Spaniards came to the country, and has been
melted down to this shapeless bank by the rains of centuries. This
valley must have supported a good-sized population once--very much
larger than at present."
"It looks like it," Dick assented. "I wonder where they got their water
from--for I suppose they lived mostly by agriculture, as the Pueblos do
still. Hasn't the padron ever tried to find the old source of supply?"
The young Mexican shook his head. "No," said he. "The source of supply,
wherever it was, was up in the mountains somewhere, and in spite of the
fact that if he could find it, it would increase the value of the grant
a thousand times, he daren't go to look for it."
"My! What a chance there is here"--Dick began, when he suddenly checked
himself. "Here's some one coming," said he. "Is this the padron?"
"Yes; he must be coming to see who you are. I hope he won't make himself
unpleasant."
As Antonio spoke, there came riding toward us a square-set, gray-haired
Mexican, at whom, as he approached, we gazed with much interest. He was
a man of fifty, or thereabouts, harsh-featured and forbidding, who
scowled at us in a manner which made me, at least, rather wish I had not
come. To put it shortly and plainly, the Señor Galvez had, in fact, the
most truculent countenance I had ever seen; and his first remark to his
nephew, as the latter advanced to meet him, was on a par with his
appearance.
"What are you bringing these American pigs here for, Antonio?" he
growled, in Spanish. "You know I will have nothing to do with them."
Poor Antonio flushed painfully under his brown skin. He half raised his
hand with a deprecatory gesture, as though to beg the speaker to be more
moderate, while he glanced uneasily at us out of the corner of his eye
to see if we had understood.
It was then that Dick and I congratulated ourselves on having
accidentally deceived our friend into the belief that we did not speak
Spanish. Suppressing our natural desire to bandy a few compliments with
the churlish padron, we put on an expression of countenance as stolid
and vacant as if we had been indeed the American pigs
aforesaid--immensely to the comfort of the younger man, as it was easy
to see.
"Do not be harsh, señor," said he. "They are only boys, and they are
doing no harm here. Moreover," he went on, "they have brought you a
piece of information which you will be glad to have:--El Tejon is still
alive."
The elder man started; his weather-beaten face paled a little.
"How do they know that?" he asked, suspiciously.
Antonio briefly told him our story.
"Hm!" grunted the padron, glowering at us from under his bushy eyebrows.
"But what are these boys skulking around here for? They don't pretend, I
suppose, that they have come all the way down from Mosby just to tell me
they have seen El Tejon."
"Not at all," replied Antonio, with considerable spirit. "They are
gentlemen, and they don't pretend anything. That bigger one of the two,
the freckled one with the hook-nose and red hair"--it was Dick he meant,
and intense was my desire to wink at him and laugh--"that one passed
through here before; he noticed how every house contained its copper
bowl and dipper--just as I did--and he has come down here with his
friend--just as I wanted to do--to try to find out where the copper
came from. We have had a long talk about it, and we have concluded that
it probably came from somewhere up on the north peak. What I brought
them down here for was to ask you whether you thought The Badger would
let them alone if they went up there--that's all."
"That's all, is it? Well, perhaps it is. But I'm suspicious of
strangers, Antonio, especially since----"
He paused, seemingly considering whether he should or should not mention
the subject he had in mind, but at length--evidently supposing that we
could not understand what he was saying--he went on:
"I had not intended to say anything to you about it, but three days
ago--the day you rode over to Zapatero to spend the night--something
occurred here which makes me rather uneasy. I had been away all day
myself that day and on my return I found a young man in the village who
had come, he said, from Santa Fé. For a young man to come to this
out-of-the-way place, all alone, from Santa Fé, or from anywhere else,
for that matter, was a strange thing: it made me suspicious that he was
after no good. And I became more than suspicious when I found that he
had spent the day going from one house to another inquiring after El
Tejon!"
"Inquiring after El Tejon!" repeated Antonio. "That was strange;
especially considering that El Tejon has been practically dead for a
dozen years. Did he offer any explanation?"
"No. To tell the truth, I did not give him the opportunity. When I found
out what he was doing, how he had slipped into the village during my
absence and had gone prying about among these ignorant peons, asking
questions concerning my enemy, I was so enraged that I threatened to
shoot him if he did not depart at once. I made a mistake there, I admit;
if I had curbed my anger, I might have found out what his object was.
But I did not, so there is no more to be said."
"That was unfortunate," said Antonio; "but, as you say, it can't be
helped now. So the stranger went off, did he? Did he return to----"
"No, he didn't," Galvez interrupted, "or, at any rate, not immediately.
I'll tell you how I know. I was so distrustful of him that I followed
his trail next morning--it was dark when he left, and I couldn't do it
then. It was an easy trail to follow, for his horse was shod, and ours,
of course, are not. It led eastward for a mile and then turned back,
circled round the village and went up into the north mountain. I have
not seen him, nor a trace of him since."
"It is a strange thing," said Antonio, thoughtfully. "What was the young
man like? How old? Was he a Mexican or an American?"
"I don't know. He looked like an American, though he spoke Spanish
perfectly. He might be twenty years old. It is an odd thing,
Antonio--and it is that, perhaps, which made me speak so sharply when I
first saw these new friends of yours--but the young man was something
like the bigger one of these two boys: the same hook-nose and light-gray
eyes, though his hair was black instead of red."
"A strange thing altogether," said Antonio, reflectively. "I don't
wonder you feel a little uneasy."
"As to these boys here," the padron went on, jerking his head in our
direction, "you may tell them that they need not fear The Badger. It is
only I who have cause to fear him, and perhaps you, as my nephew. These
boys may go where they like without danger. The chances are they won't
see El Tejon--they certainly won't if he doesn't want to be seen. And,
Antonio, just thank them for bringing me their information, and then
send them off."
So saying, old Galvez turned his unmannerly back on us and rode away.
The interview, if it can be called such--for the padron had not
addressed a single word to us--being plainly at an end, we shook hands
with our friend, Antonio, and having thanked him very heartily for his
service, we set off for camp, riding fast, in our hurry to get back
before darkness should overtake us.