THE FIGHT IN THE SAND HILLS. THE PHANTOM DOG
A number of years had I lived with my relatives when uncle found it
expedient to sell out his business. He had prospered wonderfully in his
commercial ventures. Long since had his coffers absorbed most of the
money circulating within his sphere of trade. Thereafter he accepted
commercial paper in payment for merchandise, and trade grew immensely.
Our customers soon learned how easy it was to affix their signatures to
promissory notes and to mortgages on their lands or cattle, their
horses, sheep, crops, and chattels. Of course there was a little
interest to be paid on the indebtedness, but as it was merely a
trifling one and a half per centum per month or eighteen per cent
yearly, 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 for
at the store and paid for it by simply signing their names to several
papers. When the day of payment came, they could liquidate their debts
by renewing their obligations. They simply signed a new set of similar
papers with the interest compounded and added to the original debt.
Surely Don Guillermo was conceded to stand highest in popular
estimation of any set of men who had ever come to the Rio Grande. Had
he not shown the people how to do business in a convenient and easy
manner? Under such a system nobody worried or labored very much and
life was like a pleasant dream. But alas! there has always been a
beginning and an ending to everything under the sun, good or evil. The
awakening from an easy life's dream was occasioned by a crushing blow.
It fell on the day of final reckoning, when Don Guillermo, my good
uncle, thought the time was propitious to realize something tangible on
sundry duly signed, sealed, and witnessed instruments. There was a
rumpus; neither earthquake nor cyclone would have caused a greater
commotion in the community. What, then, did this lying gringo mean by
resorting to the trickery of the United States law courts and the power
and services of the county sheriff? Why did he wrest their property
from them? Had this gringo not always accepted their signatures as a
legal tender for the payment of their debts? Had he not told them time
and again that their handwriting was better than gold? If uncle had
fallen into the clutches of these furious people, he would undoubtedly
have been lynched. But he had wisely disposed of all his property in
the country and had left with his family for the States. I remained in
the service of the buyer of and successor to his business.
Soon after I began to feel lonesome, restless and dissatisfied, and
that life among the natives was not as pleasant and satisfactory as
formerly may be easily imagined. In fact, the gringos were now
cordially hated and envied by a certain class, the element of greatest
influence among the people. This produced a feeling of unpleasantness
not to be overcome, and I resolved to emigrate to California, overland,
by way of Arizona. I longed for the companionship of people of my own
race and wanted to see more of the world. There was an opportunity to
go to a mining town of northern Arizona, with several ox-teams which
were freighting provisions. The freighter, Don Juan Mestal, assured me
that he was very glad to have the pleasure and comfort of my company
and would not listen to an offer of remuneration on my part. He said
there was the choice of two routes; one road passed through the country
of the Navajo Indians and the other road led past Zuhl, the isolated
Pueblo village. Don Juan said that he would not go by way of Zuni, if
he could avoid it, as he was prejudiced against this tribe. Not that
they were hostile or dangerous, but he had acquired a positive
aversion, amounting to abhorrence, for those peaceful people when he,
as a boy, accompanied his father on a trading expedition there. At that
time he witnessed the revolting execution of a score of Navajos who had
been apprehended as spies by the Zunis. These unfortunates came to
their village as visiting guests, it being in the time of the harvest
of maize, when these Indians celebrate their great Thanksgiving feast.
A young Navajo chief, who led the visiting party, aroused the ire of
the old medicine chief of the tribe, who had lately added a new
attraction to his household, beshrewing himself with another lovely
young squaw. It was said that the enamored damsel had made preparations
to elope with the gallant Navajo chief, but was betrayed by the
telltale barking of the dogs, great numbers of which infest all Indian
villages. The old doctor accused the Navajos of espionage and had them
taken by surprise and imprisoned in an underground foul den. Then met
the chiefs of the tribe in their estufa, or secret meeting place, to
pass judgment on the culprits. The old medicine chief smoked himself
into a trance in order to receive special instructions from the great
Spirit regarding the degree of punishment to be inflicted on the
unlucky Navajos. After sleeping several hours, he awoke and announced
that he had dreamed the Navajos were to be clubbed to death. After
sunrise the next morning these poor Indians met their doom in the
public square of the village unflinchingly in the presence of the whole
population.
They were placed in a row, facing the sun, about ten feet apart. A Zuni
executioner, armed with a war club, was stationed in front of each
victim, and another one, armed likewise, stood behind him. A war chief
raised his arms and yelled, and forty clubs were raised in air. Then
the great war drum, or tombe, boomed out the knell of death. There was
a sickening, crashing thud, and twenty Navajos fell to earth with
crushed skulls, each cabeza having been whacked simultaneously, right
and left, fore and aft, by two stone clubs in the hands of a pair of
devils.
It had always been an enigma to me that the Pueblo Indians, who were
not to be matched as fighters against the Apache and Navajo had been
able to defend their villages against the onslaught of these fierce
tribes, their hereditary enemies. Don Juan Mestal enlightened me on
that topic. He said the explanation therefor was to be found in a
certain religious superstition of the Navajos and Apaches, which
circumstance the Pueblo Indians took advantage of and exploited to the
saving of their lives. When they had reason to expect an attack on
their villages, the Pueblo laid numerous mines and torpedoes on all the
approaches and streets of their towns. While these mines did not
possess the destructive power of dynamite or gunpowder, they were
equally effective and powerful, and never failed to repulse the enemy,
especially if reinforced by hand grenades of like ammunition, thrown by
squaws and pappooses from the flat roofs of their houses. By some means
or other it had become known to the descendants of Montezuma that when
an Apache stepped on something out of the ordinary "he scented
mischief" and believed himself unclean and befouled with dishonor, and
fancied himself disgraced before God and man; and forthwith he would
hie himself away to do penance at the shrine of the nearest water
sprite. This superstition they brought from Asia, their native land.
When the day of our departure drew near, I visited my numerous friends
to bid them farewell and receive many like wishes in return. I must own
that I felt a pang of sadness when I saw tears well up in the innocent
eyes of sweet maidens and saw the fires dimmed in the black orbs of
lovely matrons whom I had held often in my arms to the measure and
tuneful melody of the fantastic wild fandango; musical Andalusian
strains which words cannot describe--soul-stirring, enchanting,
promising and denying, plaintive or jubilant, songs from Heaven or
wails from the depths of Hades. Here I lived the happiest hours of my
life, but being young, I did not realize it then.
When I came to the house of Don Reyes Alvarado, who was my chum and
bosom friend, and also of like age, he gave me a pleasant surprise. He
informed me that there would be a dance at the Hancho Indian's
settlement that same night, one of those ceremonial events which I had
long desired to attend in order to study the customs and habits of
these descendants of the Aztecs. Their social dances are inspired by
ancient customs and are the outbursts of the dormant, barbaric rites of
a religion which these people were forced to abandon by their
conquering masters, the Spaniards. Outwardly and visibly Christians,
taught to observe the customs of the Roman Catholic Church and to
conform to its ritual, these people, who were the scum and overflow
from villages of Pueblo Indians, were yet Aztec heathens in the
consciousness of their souls and inclination of their hearts.
Shortly after sunset we were on our way to the sand dunes of the Rio
Grande, where these poor outcasts had squatted and built their humble
homes of terron, or sod, which they cut from the alkali-laden soil of
the vega. They held their dance orgies in the estufa, the meeting house
of the tribe. This was a long, low structure built of adobe, probably a
hundred feet long and nine feet wide, inside measure. The building was
so low that I could easily lay the palm of my uplifted hand against the
ceiling of the roof, which was made of beams of cottonwood, covered
with sticks off which the bark had been carefully peeled, the whole had
then 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 tampered
with an admixture of short cut straw and had been beaten into the
proper degree of hardness. Dampened at intervals, this floor was quite
serviceable to dance on. There were no windows or ventilators in this
hall and only one door at the end. This was made out of a slab of hewn
wood and was just high and wide enough to admit a good sized dog. The
hall was brilliantly lighted by a dozen mutton tallow dips, which were
distributed about the room in candelabra of tin, hanging on the
mud-plastered and whitewashed walls. The orchestra consisted of one
piece only, an ancient war drum, or tombe, and was located at the
farther end of the room. It was beaten by an Indian, who was, if
possible, more ancient than the drum. As we approached we heard the
muffled sound of the drum within. "Caramba, amigo!" said my friend;
"they are at it already, and judging from the sound, they are very gay
to-night. Madre santissima! I remember that this is a great night for
these Indians, as it is the anniversary of the Noche Triste, which they
celebrate in commemoration of the Aztec's victory over the Spaniards
when 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 has
always been a day of ill luck for our family," said Don Reyes. "It
began with the misfortune of the famed Knight Don Pedro Alvarado, the
bravest of men and the right hand of Don Fernando Cortez. In the bloody
retreat of the Spaniards from Mexico, in their fight with the Aztecs,
during the Noche Triste, Don Pedro Alvarado, from whom we were
descended, lost his mare through a deadly arrow. "Muy bien, amigo Don
Reyes," said I; "if you fear these people, I advise you to return home
to 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 heathen
fiends, not human, who worship a huge rattlesnake, which they keep in
an 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 little
wife, says: "If these young gringos crave a thing, there is no use in
denying them, for they seem to compel! To the very door of that uncanny
place I follow you, amigo, but enter therein I shall not, unless I be
first absolved from my sins and shriven by the padre."
We had now arrived at the door of the estufa (oven), where the
entertainment was going on, full blast. I alighted and my friend took
charge of my horse and stationed himself at the door while I got down
on all fours and crawled inside. I seated myself on a little bench at
one side of the entrance. When my eyes got accustomed to the dense
atmosphere of the place, I observed that the room was full of people,
dancing in couples with a peculiar slow-waltz step. The ladies stayed
in their places while the men made the rounds of the hall. After a few
turns with a lady, they shuffled along to the next one, continually
exchanging their partners. As the dancers passed me by, one after
another, they noticed me, and many among them scowled and looked angry
and displeased. Suddenly the drum stopped for a few minutes. Then it
began in a faster tempo. Now the men remained stationary, while the
ladies made the circuit of the room and each one in her turn passed in
front of me. They looked lovely in their costumes of finely embroidered
snow-white single garments, trimmed with many silver ornaments and
trinkets and in their short calico skirts and beautiful moccasins.
Their limbs were tastefully swathed in white buckskin leggins, which
completed the costume.
Faster and faster beat the drum, and the sobbing, rhythmic sound
thrilled 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 the
frolicsome dance. Wilder beat the drum and faster. As the old Indian
warmed to his work, he broke out in a doleful, monotonous song, the
words 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 the
unfortunate result that his guttural song became, if anything, more
loud and boisterous. I had no thought of exchanging my partner, as the
Aztec maiden clung to me. With closed eyes and parted lips she moved as
in a blissful dream. I have known Christian people become frantic under
the impetus of great religious excitement and I have seen them act very
strangely, also have I seen Indians similarly affected during their
medicine-ghost dances. Now I, who had not thought it possible of
myself, had become more savage and uncontrollable than any one. I
suppose it was the irritating, monotonous sound of the war drum that
did it, jarring my nerves, and the peculiar Indian odor in the stifling
hot air of the close room, enhanced by the exhilarating sensation of
threatening danger, and that in the presence of the adored sex.
Assuredly all this was more than enough to set me off, as I am
naturally impulsive and of a high-strung nervous temperament.
I must say that considering the modest costumes of these Indian ladies
and their bashful and shrinking disposition, it does seem strange that
they should fascinate one like myself of the Saxon race. To be sure the
sight of the bared shoulders and necks of society belles when undressed
in the decollete fashion of their ball gowns ravishes and gluts our
sensuality, but a momentary glimpse of the Indian maid's brown knee
flashing by during the excitement of the fandango is just as
suggestive, and the inch of hand-made embroidery on the edge of their
short skirts is as effective as priceless lace on gowns of worth. And
the Indian fashion has this to recommend it, that it is the less
expensive of the two costumes. Ever watchful, ever on the alert, I saw
the sheen of a knife flash from its scabbard in the hazy air, and my
beautiful partner shivered and moaned in my arms. "Dog of an Indian,
dare and die," shouted I, angrily. Four times I made the circuit of the
room, and when again opposite the entrance of this man-kennel, I heard
the voice of my faithful friend, Don Reyes Alvarado, calling me
anxiously. I gave my lovely partner in charge of her tender-hearted
sisters, 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 the
fresh air, where I almost collapsed, overcome.
"Surely, amigo," said Reyes, "you will not blame me now for not
entering, but you have endurance, for Dios! I should not have survived
so 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 your
revolver. But when I saw you pass by infatuated with Jtz-Li-Cama, the
cacique's daughter and wife of the murderous scoundrel, El Macho, then
I gave you up. Oh, see what is happening now. Amigo, you have broken up
the dance. So it seemed. The drum was silent now and we heard the
voices of men arguing in the Aztec idiom. Of a sudden the lights were
extinguished and the crowd came out with a rush, and silently they
stole away in the darkness.
"Now, amigo," said Reyes, "let me tell you something, which may haply
serve you well. Knowing that an American accomplishes things which a
Mexican like myself must let alone, I advise you to try for the hidden
treasure of La Gran Quivira. Seeing that you are in the good graces of
Jtz-Li-Cama, you might prevail with the cacique to guide you. He is
said to be the only living man who knows the secret of the trove in the
ruins of the sacred temple of the ancient city. The Indians believe
that this treasure, which the Aztecs hid from the Spaniards, is guarded
by a terrible phantom dog, the specter of one of the great dogs of
Fernando Cortez which ravened among their Aztec ancestors. They fear
the specter of this fabled Perro de la Malinche more than anything else
on earth, as it is said to harrow their souls in Hades as it ravened
their bodies when in the flesh."
After smoking a few cigarritos, my friend proposed to ride home, as
there was really nothing else to be done. We rode slowly along,
enjoying the beautiful night of this faultless climate, and I shall
ever remember this night to my last day. There was a pleasant,
refreshing odor in the air, the scent of the wild thyme which grows in
these sand dunes. The moon rose over the Manzana range and flooded the
broad valley with its soft, silvery rays. Suddenly, at a sharp turn of
the trail, we found ourselves surrounded by silent forms arisen from
the 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 wipe
out the insults you heaped on me when you charged me with the theft of
your calves. I challenge thee to fight. Alight from thy horse, cowardly
Spaniard! To-night of all nights shalt thou feel the Indians' blade
between thy ribs." "Fight him, amigo," I said. "I shall enforce fair
play." But my friend Reyes whom I knew to be a man of both strength and
courage, weakened, being cowed with the superstition of the unlucky
Noche Triste. "Tomorrow I shall fight thee, Indian," he answered "not
at nighttime, like a thieving coyote." "If thou wert not astride thy
horse and out of my reach, thou wouldst not dare say that to me, thou
cuckold dupe of the Americans!" sneered the Indian. This insult to my
companion angered me, and I demanded a retraction and an apology
therefor from the Indian. When the macho flatly refused and repeated
the insult in a more aggravating manner, I replied that I feared not to
meet him or any other goatherding Indian and was ready to fight him on
the spot.
Saying this, I dismounted and threw my horse's bridle to my friend
Reyes to hold. Then the cacique, or Pueblo chief, the father of
Jtz-Li-Cama, appeared and demanded our weapons. "I shall not interfere
in this fight, senores," said he, "if you surrender your weapons to me,
the lawful alguacil (officer) of this district." He then took the
macho'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 the
deep sand with my foot, then I stepped to the center of this ring and
awaited my antagonist. I cautioned my friend Reyes to see to it that no
one else overstepped the line. To the lonely sand dunes of the Rio
Grande unwittingly I thus introduced the manly sport of the prize ring.
But the battle was not fought for lucre or fame, nor according to the
London 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 I
avoided him and warded off his blows. I did not touch him till I saw my
chance, 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 a
blow on the head. Again he came, and this time he gave me a stunning
blow in the face, which maddened me so, that I took the offensive and
laid him low with a terrific hit. I was now thoroughly infuriated and
threw all caution to the winds. When he arose once more, I attacked
him. He took to his heels and I followed him up. I noticed then that
the whole crowd of Indians were running after us, but I had now become
reckless and did not mind. Then I stumbled over a root and fell face
down in the sand. Before I could arise fully the macho had turned and
thrown himself upon me. I managed to turn over on my back and gripped
him by throat and face, so that he was really in my power, and I felt
that he was subdued so that I could easily force him under, and, small
wonder, for with the terrible grip of my hand had I once crushed a
man's fingers in a wrestling match. Now I used the macho's body as a
shield against the furious onslaught of his people, who attacked me
with rocks, clubs, and anything they could lay hands to. I thought, and
I never ceased thinking and planning for one moment, that the affair
looked very serious for me, when I saw the cacique approach with my
pistol in hand, exclaiming, "Now, gringo, thou shalt die, on the altar
of the god, at the sacred shrine of Aztlan, I shall lay thy quivering
heart!" In vain I looked for help from my companion, who had sought
safety in flight. Something had to be done and that quickly. Surely I
had one trusty friend, true as steel, who would not forsake me in the
extremity 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 since
followed me faithfully. "Sic-semper-Cerberus-Sic!" My right hand stole
to my hip, a short sharp bark, and the treacherous cacique fell over
with a crimson stain on his forehead. At the same moment a weird,
uncanny yelp pierced the night, and a tremendous shaggy phantom cloud
obscured the slender sickle of the moon. Terrified, the Indians
screamed "El Perro! El Perro de la Malinche!" and shrilly the voices of
frightened 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 feet
and contrived to mount my horse, whose bridle had caught on the
greasewood brush, and I headed for home.
Not long thereafter I met my friend Reyes, who was followed by a
retinue 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 are
alive. When I heard the report of firearms and knowing that those
devils had your weapon, I feared the worst. How on earth did you manage
to escape them? Seeing you down and beset by the whole tribe, I gave
you up for dead and fled."
I told my friend that with God's help and the phantom dog's assistance
I had beaten off my assailants, and I thought that the cacique had been
sorely bitten by the dog. Dona Josefita was very anxious and excited.
When she saw me coming, she cried, "The saints preserve us, oh here he
is! 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, as
usual, the cause of this strife between men!"
The kind lady then attended deftly and skillfully to the dressing of my
wounds, applying soothing herbs and healing ointments, which tended to
allay the fever, and she nursed me with the tenderest care, so that in
a week's time I was as well as ever, though not without a feeling of
regret for my too speedy recovery.
Of course, there arose the rumor of a fierce battle between Americans
and Indians. To silence this silly talk and to avoid unpleasant
complications, I surrendered myself to the alcalde of the precinct and
accused myself of having disturbed the peace of the realm. Pleading my
case, I stated that as there was nobody but the peace disturbers
involved, and as said parties did not make any further claim upon the
Honorable Court, therefore, under the statute of the Territory and the
Constitution of the United States, the law required that the court
mulct the guilty parties in the payment of a nominal fine and discharge
the culprits. The Honorable Court decreed that I as an American ought
to know the American law best, and discharged me after I paid my
self-imposed fine. The administering of justice in cases of importance
was, of course, relegated to the United States Circuit Courts, but
Uncle Sam did not care to meddle with the many troublesome alcaldes or
justices of the peace, as he did not understand the Spanish language
very well. This was certainly humiliating and embarrassing, but who can
blame 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 largest
sala, or hall, in the township and scoured the country for
musicians--fiddlers and guitar players. Every person of any social
notability was invited. They drew the line of social respectability at
peons, or bondmen. This was a happy-go-lucky caste of people who
possessed no property nor anything else, and consequently they had no
cares and were under no responsibility of any kind, as the wealthier
classes, who virtually owned them, had to provide for their
necessities. The system of peonage in New Mexico had been abolished
with the abolition of slavery in the United States, but the peons did
not realize the wretchedness of their deplorable social status, and in
their ignorance they regarded their bondage as a privilege, believing
themselves fortunate to have their wants provided for by their
patrones. They were treated kindly by their masters and looked upon as
poor relations and intimate but humble friends.
The entertainment was to be of the velorio (wake) type, which begins as
a prayer meeting and ends in a dance. My friends exerted themselves to
the utmost to make this event the social climax of the season. They
sent a committee to the pueblo of Isleta for several goatskins full of
native wine, and incidentally they borrowed San Augustin, the pueblo's
famous image saint, who they intended should preside over the velorio.
As this prayer meeting was to be in my honor and for the sake of
invoking the protection of the saints on my journey, they thought it
best to procure San Augustin, who being the patron saint of the heathen
Isleta Indians, would not mind giving a heretic Protestant gringo a
good send-off, as he was accustomed to deal with heresy. They also
procured a dozen fat mutton sheep, which were to be barbecued and
served with chile pelado to the invited guests, surely a tempting menu
and hot! The ladies baked bollos, tamales and frijoles. Melons and
cantaloupes were brought in by the cartload. I was waited upon by a
committee and received a formal invitation; for everything was done in
grand Spanish style. When I arrived at the festive hall the ceremonies
began. The ladies knelt before San Augustin, praying and chanting
alternately. I took my customary station at the door, as master of the
artillery. At the singing of a certain stanza and after the words,
"Angeles, y Seraphim es! Santo! Santo! Santo!" I received my cue from
one of the deacons who gave the order: "Fuego, maestro!" and I
discharged my double barreled shotgun and a brace of six shooters in
lightning-like succession. Surely this was pious devotion, properly
emphasized, and it kept San Augustin from falling asleep. I used up a
pound of gunpowder that night, and this was said to have been the
grandest, most successful velorio ever held in that part of the world.
At eleven o'clock I announced that my battery was overheated and too
dangerous to reload, which stopped the praying and the grand baile
began. There were several hundred dancing couples, who enjoyed
themselves to the utmost until sunrise, and nobody thought of leaving
for home until everything eatable and liquid was disposed of.
Now the date of our departure had arrived, and very sad, indeed, was I
to leave these people who had done their very best to make me feel at
home with them and who seemed to be really fond of me. I consoled Dona
Josefita somewhat with the promise that I would return some day and
find her the treasure of La Gran Quivira. Don Juan Mestal, the
freighter, seemed as reluctant to leave as I was; something was always
turning 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 a
Mexican whom I knew on the Rio Grande, where he had formerly lived. He
invited me cordially to the wedding of his sister, which was to be on
the next day at old Fort Wingate, an abandoned fort, and then a Mexican
settlement. This man said that he had come on purpose to meet me, as he
had heard of my intentions to leave the country. Although I did not
like the man, who was said to be jealous of Americans, I accepted his
urgent invitation more from curiosity to learn what he meant to do than
for other reasons.
The next morning I started early from camp and rode over to the little
town, distant fifteen miles. When I arrived in front of my prospective
host's house I caught a glimpse of two men, who were sneaking off
toward an old corral. Then I knew what was in the wind, for those two
men were known to me as desperate cutthroat thieves and highwaymen;
their specialty was to waylay and murder American travelers. My kind
friend professed to be overmuch delighted at my arrival. He took charge
of my horse and invited me into his house, where I met the bridal
couple and their friends, who were carousing and gambling. I joined and
made merry with them. At ten o'clock the whole party made ready to
proceed to the chapel, where the marriage ceremony was to be performed.
I simulated the part of a very inebriated person, a condition which
they looked forward to with hope and satisfaction, and told them that I
would stay at the house to await their return. When everybody had left
I thought I might as well get under way, feeling lonesome. I went out
and around to the rear of the house, where the corral was, to get my
horse, but found the gate fastened with chains and securely locked. The
corral walls were built of adobe, and the two walls of it were a
continuation of the side walls of the house, and its end wall formed an
enclosure or backyard. My horse was there, and I found my saddle in one
of the rooms of the building, hidden under a blanket. I entered the
corral 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 of
leave-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 low
and narrow. As I could not find the outer door, I led my horse
successively into every room in the house.
There is no furniture such as we use in a typical Spanish dwelling, no
bedsteads, tables, or chairs. The inmates squat on divans arranged on
the floor around the walls of the rooms, and at nighttime they spread
their bedding on the floors. Some of the rooms were nicely carpeted
with Mexican rugs. My horse must have thought he had come to a suite of
stables, for he acted accordingly. He nosed around after grain and hay,
whinnied and pawed, and seemed to enjoy himself generally. At last I
found the right door, came out into the street and rode to the church
to tender my best wishes to the happy couple and bid them adios. When
the party emerged from the chapel they seemed to be very much surprised
at seeing me. I told my host that I regretted to leave them so early in
the day, but had an appointment to keep elsewhere. I would ride slowly
out of town so that they could overtake me easily, should they wish to
see me later, but nobody came, and after several hours I caught up with
my companions.