After a week's climbing through the Rocky Mountains, we descended into
the Valley of the Del Norte, and arrived at the capital of New Mexico,
the far-famed Santa Fe. Next day the caravan itself came in, for we had
lost time on the southern route; and the waggons, travelling by the
Raton Pass, had made a good journey of it.
We had no difficulty about their entrance into the country, with the
proviso that we paid five hundred dollars of "Alcavala" tax upon each
waggon. This was a greater extortion than usual; but the traders were
compelled to accept the impost.
Santa Fe is the entrepot of the province, and the chief seat of its
trade. On reaching it we halted, camping without the walls.
Saint Vrain, several other _proprietaires_, and myself, took up our
quarters at the Fonda, where we endeavoured, by means of the sparkling
vintage of El Paso, to make ourselves oblivious of the hardships we had
endured in the passage of the plains.
The night of our arrival was given to feasting and making merry.
Next morning I was awakened by the voice of my man Gode, who appeared to
be in high spirits, singing a snatch of a Canadian boat-song.
"Ah, monsieur!" cried he, seeing me awake, "to-night--aujourd'hui--une
grande fonction--one bal--vat le Mexicain he call fandango. Tres bien,
monsieur. You vill sure have grand plaisir to see un fandango
Mexicain?"
"Not I, Gode. My countrymen are not so fond of dancing as yours."
"C'est vrai, monsieur; but von fandango is tres curieux. You sall see
ver many sort of de pas. Bolero, et valse, wis de Coona, and ver many
more pas, all mix up in von puchero. Allons! monsieur, you vill see ver
many pretty girl, avec les yeux tres noir, and ver short--ah! ver
short--vat you call em in Americaine?"
"I do not know what you allude to."
"Cela! Zis, monsieur," holding out the skirt of his hunting-shirt; "par
Dieu! now I have him--petticoes; ver short petticoes. Ah! you sall see
vat you sall see en un fandango Mexicaine.
"`Las ninas de Durango
Commigo bailandas,
Al cielo saltandas,
En el fandango--en el fan-dang--o.'
"Ah! here comes Monsieur Saint Vrain. Ecoutez! He never go to
fandango. Sacre! how monsieur dance! like un maitre de ballet. Mais he
be de sangre--blood Francais. Ecoutez!
"`Al cielo saltandas,
En el fandango--en el fan-dang--.'"
"Ha! Gode!"
"Monsieur?"
"Trot over to the cantina, and beg, borrow, buy, or steal, a bottle of
the best Paso."
"Sall I try steal 'im, Monsieur Saint Vrain?" inquired Gode, with a
knowing grin.
"No, you old Canadian thief! Pay for it. There's the money. Best
Paso, do you hear?--cool and sparkling. Now, voya! Bon jour, my bold
rider of buffalo bulls I still abed, I see."
"My head aches as if it would split."
"Ha, ha, ha! so does mine; but Gode's gone for medicine. Hair of the
dog good for the bite. Come, jump up!"
"Wait till I get a dose of your medicine."
"True; you will feel better then. I say, city life don't agree with us,
eh?"
"You call this a city, do you?"
"Ay, so it is styled in these parts: `la ciudad de Santa Fe;' the famous
city of Santa Fe; the capital of Nuevo Mexico; the metropolis of all
prairiedom; the paradise of traders, trappers, and thieves!"
"And this is the progress of three hundred years! Why, these people
have hardly passed the first stages of civilisation."
"Rather say they are passing the last stages of it. Here, on this fair
oasis, you will find painting, poetry, dancing, theatres, and music,
fetes and fireworks, with all the little amorous arts that characterise
a nation's decline. You will meet with numerous Don Quixotes,
_soi-disant_ knights-errant, Romeos without the heart, and ruffians
without the courage. You will meet with many things before you
encounter either virtue or honesty. Hola! muchacho!"
"Que es, senor?"
"Hay cafe?"
"Si, senor."
"Bring us a couple of tazas, then--dos tazas, do you hear? and quick--
aprisa! aprisa!"
"Si, senor."
"Ah! here comes le voyageur Canadien. So, old Nor'-west! you've brought
the wine?"
"Vin delicieux, Monsieur Saint Vrain! equal to ze vintage Francais."
"He is right, Haller! Tsap--tsap! delicious you may say, good Gode.
Tsap--tsap! Come, drink! it'll make you feel as strong as a buffalo.
See! it seethes like a soda spring! like `Fontaine-qui-bouille'; eh,
Gode?"
"Oui, monsieur; ver like Fontaine-qui-bouille. Oui."
"Drink, man, drink! Don't fear it: it's the pure juice. Smell the
flavour; taste the bouquet. What wine the Yankees will one day squeeze
out of these New Mexican grapes!"
"Why? Do you think the Yankees have an eye to this quarter?"
"Think! I know it; and why not? What use are these manikins in
creation? Only to cumber the earth. Well, mozo, you have brought the
coffee?"
"Ya, esta, senor."
"Here! try some of this; it will help to set you on your feet. They can
make coffee, and no mistake. It takes a Spaniard to do that."
"What is this fandango Gode has been telling me about?"
"Ah! true. We are to have a famous one to-night. You'll go, of
course?"
"Out of curiosity."
"Very well, you will have your curiosity gratified. The blustering old
grampus of a Governor is to honour the ball with his presence; and it is
said, his pretty senora; that I don't believe."
"Why not?"
"He's too much afraid lest one of these wild Americanos might whip her
off on the cantle of his saddle. Such things have been done in this
very valley. By Saint Mary! she is good-looking," continued Saint
Vrain, in a half-soliloquy, "and I knew a man--the cursed old tyrant!
only think of it!"
"Of what?"
"The way he has bled us. Five hundred dollars a waggon, and a hundred
of them at that; in all, fifty thousand dollars!"
"But will he pocket all this? Will not the Government--?"
"Government! no, every cent of it. He is the Government here; and, with
the help of this instalment, he will rule these miserable wretches with
an iron rod."
"And yet they hate him, do they not?"
"Him and his. And they have reason."
"It is strange they do not rebel."
"They have at times; but what can they do? Like all true tyrants, he
has divided them, and makes them spend their heart's hatred on one
another."
"But he seems not to have a very large army; no bodyguard--"
"Bodyguard!" cried Saint Vrain, interrupting me; "look out! there's his
bodyguard!"
"Indios bravos! les Navajoes!" exclaimed Gode, at the same instant.
I looked forth into the street. Half a dozen tall savages, wrapped in
striped serapes, were passing. Their wild, hungry looks, and slow,
proud walk at once distinguished them from "Indios manzos," the
water-drawing, wood-hewing pueblos.
"Are they Navajoes?" I asked.
"Oui, monsieur, oui!" replied Gode, apparently with some excitement.
"Navajoes!"
"There's no mistaking them," added Saint Vrain.
"But the Navajoes are the notorious enemies of the New Mexicans! How
come they to be here? Prisoners?"
"Do they look like prisoners?"
They certainly showed no signs of captivity in either look or gesture.
They strode proudly up the street, occasionally glancing at the passers
with an air of savage and lordly contempt.
"Why, then, are they here? Their country lies far to the west."
"That is one of the secrets of Nuevo Mexico, about which I will
enlighten you some other time. They are now protected by a treaty of
peace, which is only binding upon them so long as it may suit their
convenience to recognise it. At present they are as free here as you or
I; indeed, more so, when it comes to that. I wouldn't wonder it we were
to meet them at the fandango to-night."
"I have heard that the Navajoes are cannibals."
"It is true. Look at them this minute! See how they gloat upon that
chubby little fellow, who seems instinctively to fear them. Lucky for
the urchin it's broad daylight, or he might get chucked under one of
those striped blankets."
"Are you in earnest, Saint Vrain?"
"By my word, I am not jesting! If I mistake not, Gode's experience will
confirm what I have said. Eh, voyageur?"
"C'est vrai, monsieur. I vas prisonnier in le nation; not Navagh, but
l'Apache--moch de same--pour tree mons. I have les sauvages seen
manger--eat--one--deux--tree--tree enfants rotis, like hump rib of de
buffles. C'est vrai, messieurs, c'est vrai."
"It is quite true; both Apaches and Navajoes carry off children from the
valley, here, in their grand forays; and it is said by those who should
know, that most of them are used in that way. Whether as a sacrifice to
the fiery god Quetzalcoatl, or whether from a fondness lor human flesh,
no one has yet been able to determine. In fact, with all their
propinquity to this place, there is little known about them. Few who
have visited their towns have had Gode's luck to get away again. No man
of these parts ever ventures across the western Sierras."
"And how came you, Monsieur Gode, to save your scalp?"
"Pourquoi, monsieur, je n'ai pas. I not haves scalp-lock: vat de
trappare Yankee call `har,' mon scalp-lock is fabrique of von barbier de
Saint Louis. Voila monsieur!"
So saying, the Canadian lifted his cap, and along with it what I had, up
to this time, looked upon as a beautiful curling head of hair, but which
now proved to be only a wig!
"Now, messieurs!" cried he, in good humour, "how les sauvages my scalp
take? Indien no have cash hold. Sacr-r-r!"
Saint Vrain and I were unable to restrain our laughter at the altered
and comical appearance of the Canadian.
"Come, Gode! the least you can do after that is to take a drink. Here,
help yourself!"
"Tres-oblige, Monsieur Saint Vrain. Je vous remercie." And the
ever-thirsty voyageur quaffed off the nectar of El Paso, like so much
fresh milk.
"Come, Haller! we must to the waggons. Business first, then pleasure;
such as we may find here among these brick stacks. But we'll have some
fun in Chihuahua."
"And you think we shall go there?"
"Certainly. They do not want the fourth part of our stuff here. We
must carry it on to the head market. To the camp! Allons!"