A NIGHT IN A MEXICAN KITCHEN.
By the time the boys reached the little cluster of adobe buildings, the
rain was descending in torrents, and, in spite of the tropical
surroundings, the air was much too cold to be comfortable. As they
approached the first house on the outskirts of the hamlet, the door
opened and a blanketed peon, preceded by half a dozen dogs of all kinds
and conditions, made his appearance. Rushing at the horses, the dogs
made the neighborhood hideous with their barking, but they made no
attempt to do more.
"What do you want?" called out the man, speaking in Spanish.
"Call off your dogs," replied Donald, "so we can talk with you."
The man did as requested, and the animals grouped themselves around him
in the doorway.
"We want a place to get in out of the rain and something to eat," Donald
continued, as soon as the barking had ceased.
"There is no place here," replied the peon.
"What is this building?" and Donald pointed at a small hut at one side,
which was covered with a thatched roof.
"It's the kitchen."
"What does he say?" asked Billie, who hadn't been able to gain the
faintest idea of the conversation.
"He says that's the kitchen," replied Adrian.
"Huh!" grunted Billie, "looks more like a pigpen."
"What's the matter with our going in there until it stops raining?"
continued Donald, pressing his inquiries.
"You can go in there, if you want to, but there is nothing for you to
eat."
"No eggs?"
"No."
"No tortillas?"
"No."
"No frijolles?"
"No."
"We will pay you well," added Donald.
The peon's manner underwent a remarkable change.
"Perhaps the _señora_ has a few tortillas," he said. "I'll go and see."
He turned and quickly entered the house, returning in a minute to say
that there were both tortillas--corn cakes--and beans, and inviting the
boys to alight.
"There is no room in my _casa_," he said, "but, if the young _señores_
will be satisfied to go into the kitchen, I will make a fire and the
_señora_ will get them something to eat."
The boys needed no second bidding, and, quickly dismounting, they threw
their bridle-reins over some cactus growing about, and went inside.
"I'd rather eat out of doors," declared Billie, after looking the place
over.
"So would I," said Adrian, "if it were not for the rain."
"Oh, I don't know," ventured Donald philosophically, "I've seen worse
places than this. Do you remember the Zunis?"
"It was always dry there," declared Billie.
"Yes, and there were always plenty of snakes," laughed Adrian, who never
had forgotten Billie's aversion to reptiles since his visit to the snake
dancers.
Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of the peon's wife,
who proceeded to make a fire in the Mexican range, as the boys called
the few bricks set up on edge. From a little earthen dish she produced a
few thin corn cakes, which she toasted over the fire. When they were
properly done, she put them on a dish and poured over them a couple of
spoonfuls of black beans. These she offered to the boys to eat.
Billie looked at it askance.
"I thought I was glad to eat a woman's cooking at Presidio last night,"
he said. "If this is a sample of Mexican women's cooking, I'd rather get
my own meals."
However, they were all hungry, and the beans and tortillas soon
disappeared.
"How much are you going to pay him for this, Don?" queried Adrian. "You
said you would pay him well."
"I don't know. Do you think fifty cents is enough?"
"Try him and see."
Donald took a silver half dollar from his pocket and held it out toward
the man, who had been watching the boys in silence. He looked stupidly
at it, but made no move to take it.
"Don't you want it?" asked Donald.
"No, _señor_; it is too much."
"How much do you want?"
"A real is plenty."
A real is worth in American money about seven cents.
"Oh, take it," urged Donald in Spanish, "although I think a real is all
it's worth," he added in English, which the peon could not understand.
Thus urged the man took the coin and bowed low with many expressions of
thanks. The coin also seemed to have loosened his tongue, and he urged
the boys to make themselves perfectly at home.
"My poor house is yours," he declared, "as long as you will honor it
with your presence. I will go and give your horses some straw."
Suiting the action to the word, he hastily left the hut, and, looking
through the door, the boys saw him leading the animals to a little
corral a short distance from the kitchen.
The rain continued to descend almost in sheets.
"This must be the way it rained in the days of Noah," Billie suggested.
"Yes," replied Adrian, "and it looks as though it might continue for
forty days. I've never seen anything like it."
"What had we better do?" asked Billie, thinking about the ride back to
Presidio.
"What can we do?" echoed Donald. "We never could find our way back to
the Rio Grande in this rain, and, if we did, we would find it so full of
water we couldn't get across. The only thing we can do is to stay right
here till it stops raining."
And stay they did.
The afternoon passed and darkness fell. The peon brought in a candle
stuck into a most unique candlestick, which must have been the property
of some ancient Don. The boys wondered where he got it, but did not
think it wise to inquire. They knew too little Spanish to engage in
anything like a general conversation with the man, but they did manage
to get enough out of him to discover that he was much dissatisfied. Why,
they could not make out.
Along about nine o'clock, the peon and his wife betook themselves off to
the other hut, which served as their main house, and the boys, piling
their saddles in the doorway, to keep out any stray dog that might be
prowling about, rolled themselves up in their blankets, stretched
themselves out on the floor, and were soon asleep.
How long he had slept, Billie could not tell, when he was awakened by a
most unusual noise. The rain was still falling, although not in such
torrents. At first Billie thought that the noise was caused by the rain
on the thatched roof; but he soon became convinced that such was not the
case. Finally he reached over and shook the sleeper nearest to him. It
happened to be Adrian.
"What's the matter?" queried that young gentleman, sitting up and
peering into the darkness.
"I don't know," whispered Billie, "but it sounds as though some one were
trying to get in."
"Where?"
"That's what I can't make out."
Adrian pulled his saddle-bag toward him and took out his electric torch.
Slowly he pointed it in every direction, but he could see nothing
unusual, although the strange noise continued.
"Funny, isn't it?" he said, and then he arose to his feet.
As he did so, Billie glanced up at the speaker, and what he saw caused a
broad grin to overspread his rotund countenance.
"Look!" he exclaimed, and pointed toward the roof.
Adrian did as he was told, and burst into a hearty laugh, which aroused
Donald.
"What is it?" he exclaimed, also springing to his feet.
"Goats," laughed Billy. "They're climbing all over the roof."
And sure enough they were, for what Billie had seen was the hoof of one
of them sticking through the roof.
"They'll all be coming through, first thing you know," said Billie.
"I'm not so much afraid of that as that they will make holes for the
rain to come through," declared Adrian. "We must scare them off. Shoo!"
But he might as well have cried shoo at the moon.
"Wait a minute," exclaimed Billie, "I'll fix them."
He crawled over to the other side of the kitchen, where a great dry
cactus stem was leaned up against the side of the wall. It was as thick
as a man's leg, about six or eight feet long, and almost as light as
cork. Waiting until he was satisfied by the sound that a goat was
directly over his head, he gave a great thrust with the cactus log.
His aim was a good one. With a loud bleat, that was almost a wail, the
goat went tumbling off the roof, and in a minute the boys heard it
pattering away as fast as it could scamper. Twice during the night was
the feat repeated, the only inconvenience it caused being that the boys
did not sleep as soundly as they otherwise would.
After the last interruption Billie did not return to sleep, but lay
awake thinking about the strange experiences of the past two days. As a
result he saw daylight slowly breaking, and finding himself so wide
awake, he determined to go and tend to the horses.
Removing the saddles from the doorway, he went out. The rain had ceased
and there was every indication of a fine day. After taking a critical
survey of the landscape, he went to the corral and examined the horses,
to see that they were all right, after which he led them to a pool some
distance away to water.
The whole proceeding consumed some fifteen or twenty minutes, so that,
by the time he was ready to return to the hut, the sun was just rising
above the horizon.
Giving the horses an armful of straw, which he found under a little
shed, he started back to awaken his companions, when, to his surprise,
he found himself confronted by the whole pack of wolfish dogs, who not
only refused to let him advance, but threatened to attack him.
He uttered a loud "Halloo," but no one seemed to hear him.
"Get out of my way," he shouted, but his words only seemed to make the
animals more furious.
Again he uttered a loud "Halloo," and again no one replied.
By this time the dogs had become more courageous, and it began to look
like a very serious situation, so that Billie, in order to defend
himself, drew his six-shooter, determined to use it on the first of the
dogs who should make up his mind to attack him.
Once more, however, he called aloud, and in response to the shout Donald
appeared at the door, just as Billie was taking aim at a big gaunt hound
which seemed determined to spring upon him.
"Don't do it," called Donald. "Don't shoot unless you want to get us
into all sorts of trouble."
"Why not?" asked Billie. "I'm not going to be made dog meat."
"You'll be made worse than that if you kill one of the peon's dogs."
Just what might have been the outcome of the situation is hard to tell,
had not a voice of authority suddenly rang out from the direction of the
house:
"_Vaya te, perros! Vaya te!_"[1]
The dogs ceased their angry barking, and slunk hastily away, while
Billie, looking in the direction from which the voice proceeded, saw
Pedro riding around the kitchen.
Footnote:
[1]: "Go away, dogs! Go away!"