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diff --git a/20888-0.txt b/20888-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f217679 --- /dev/null +++ b/20888-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6395 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Blood of the Conquerors by Harvey +Fergusson + + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no +restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under +the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or +online at http://www.gutenberg.org/license + + + +Title: The Blood of the Conquerors + +Author: Harvey Fergusson + +Release Date: March 23, 2007 [Ebook #20888] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLOOD OF THE CONQUERORS*** + + + + + + The Blood of the Conquerors + by + Harvey Fergusson + +New York +Alfred · A · Knopf +1921 + + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY + ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC. + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + + + CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I +CHAPTER II +CHAPTER III +CHAPTER IV +CHAPTER V +CHAPTER VI +CHAPTER VII +CHAPTER VIII +CHAPTER IX +CHAPTER X +CHAPTER XI +CHAPTER XII +CHAPTER XIII +CHAPTER XIV +CHAPTER XV +CHAPTER XVI +CHAPTER XVII +CHAPTER XVIII +CHAPTER XIX +CHAPTER XX +CHAPTER XXI +CHAPTER XXII +CHAPTER XXIII +CHAPTER XXIV +CHAPTER XXV +CHAPTER XXVI +CHAPTER XXVII +CHAPTER XXVIII +CHAPTER XXIX +CHAPTER XXX +CHAPTER XXXI +CHAPTER XXXII +CHAPTER XXXIII +CHAPTER XXXIV +CHAPTER XXXV +CHAPTER XXXVI +EXTRA PAGES +ERRATA + + + + + + + CHAPTER I + + +Whenever Ramon Delcasar boarded a railroad train he indulged a habit, not +uncommon among men, of choosing from the women passengers the one whose +appearance most pleased him to be the object of his attention during the +journey. If the woman were reserved or well-chaperoned, or if she +obviously belonged to another man, this attention might amount to no more +than an occasional discreet glance in her direction. He never tried to +make her acquaintance unless her eyes and mouth unmistakably invited him +to do so. + +This conservatism on his part was not due to an innate lack of +self-confidence. Whenever he felt sure of his social footing, his attitude +toward women was bold and assured. But his social footing was a peculiarly +uncertain thing for the reason that he was a Mexican. This meant that he +faced in every social contact the possibility of a more or less covert +prejudice against his blood, and that he faced it with an unduly proud and +sensitive spirit concealed beneath a manner of aristocratic indifference. +In the little southwestern town where he had lived all his life, except +the last three years, his social position was ostensibly of the highest. +He was spoken of as belonging to an old and prominent family. Yet he knew +of mothers who carefully guarded their daughters from the peril of falling +in love with him, and most of his boyhood fights had started when some one +called him a “damned Mexican” or a “greaser.” + +Except to an experienced eye there was little in his appearance or in his +manner to suggest his race. His swarthy complexion indicated perhaps a +touch of the Moorish blood in his Spanish ancestry, but he was no darker +than are many Americans bearing Anglo-Saxon names, and his eyes were grey. +His features were aquiline and pleasing, and he had in a high degree that +bearing, at once proud and unself-conscious, which is called aristocratic. +He spoke English with a very slight Spanish accent. + +When he had gone away to a Catholic law school in St. Louis, confident of +his speech and manner and appearance, he had believed that he was leaving +prejudice behind him; but in this he had been disappointed. The raw spots +in his consciousness, if a little less irritated at the college, were by +no means healed. Some persons, it is true, seemed to think nothing of his +race one way or the other; to some, mostly women, it gave him an added +interest; but in the long run it worked against him. It kept him out of a +fraternity, and it made his career in football slow and hard. + +When he finally won the coveted position of quarterback, in spite of team +politics, he made a reputation by the merciless fashion in which he drove +his eleven, and by the fury of his own playing. + +The same bitter emulative spirit which had impelled him in football drove +him to success in his study of the law. Books held no appeal for him, and +he had no definite ambitions, but he had a good head and a great desire to +show the gringos what he could do. So he had graduated high in his class, +thrown his diploma into the bottom of his trunk, and departed from his +alma mater without regret. + +The limited train upon which he took passage for home afforded specially +good opportunity for his habit of mental philandering. The passengers were +continually going up and down between the dining car at one end of the +train and the observation car at the other, so that all of the women daily +passed in review. They were an unusually attractive lot, for most of the +passengers were wealthy easterners on their way to California. Ramon had +never before seen together so many women of the kind that devotes time and +money and good taste to the business of creating charm. Perfectly gowned +and groomed, delicately scented, they filled him with desire and with envy +for the men who owned them. There were two newly married couples among the +passengers, and several intense flirtations were under way before the +train reached Kansas City. Ramon felt as though he were a spectator at +some delightful carnival. He was lonely and restless, yet fascinated. + +For no opportunity of becoming other than a spectator had come to him. He +had chosen without difficulty the girl whom he preferred, but had only +dared to admire her from afar. She was a little blonde person, not more +than twenty, with angelic grey eyes, hair of the colour of ripe wheat and +a complexion of perfect pink and white. The number of different costumes +which she managed to don in two days filled him with amazement and gave +her person an ever-varying charm and interest. She appeared always +accompanied by a very placid-looking and portly woman, who was evidently +her mother, and a tall, cadaverous sick man, whose indifferent and pettish +attitude toward her seemed to indicate that he was either a brother or an +uncle, for Ramon felt sure that she was not married. She acquired no male +attendants, but sat most of the time very properly, if a little +restlessly, with her two companions. Once or twice Ramon felt her look +upon him, but she always turned it away when he glanced at her. + +Whether because she was really beautiful in her own petite way, or because +she seemed so unattainable, or because her small blonde daintiness had a +peculiar appeal for him, Ramon soon reached a state of conviction that she +interested him more than any other girl he had ever seen. He discreetly +followed her about the train, watching for the opportunity that never +came, and consoling himself with the fact that no one else seemed more +fortunate in winning her favour than he. The only strange male who +attained to the privilege of addressing her was a long-winded and elderly +gentleman of the British perpetual-travelling type, at least one +representative of which is found on every transcontinental train, and it +was plain enough that he bored the girl. + +Ramon took no interest in landscapes generally, but when he awoke on the +last morning of his journey and found himself once more in the wide and +desolate country of his birth, he was so deeply stirred and interested +that he forgot all about the girl. Devotion to one particular bit of soil +is a Mexican characteristic, and in Ramon it was highly developed because +he had spent so much of his life close to the earth. Every summer of his +boyhood he had been sent to one of the sheep ranches which belonged to the +various branches of his numerous family. Each of these ranches was merely +a headquarters where the sheep were annually dipped and sheared and from +which the herds set out on their long wanderings across the open range. +Often Ramon had followed them—across the deserts where the heat shimmered +and the yellow dust hung like a great pale plume over the rippling backs +of the herd, and up to the summer range in the mountains where they fed +above the clouds in lush green pastures crowned with spires of rock and +snow. He had shared the beans and mutton and black coffee of the herders +and had gone to sleep on a pile of peltries to the evensong of the coyotes +that hung on the flanks of the herd. Hunting, fishing, wandering, he had +lived like a savage and found the life good. + +It was this life of primitive freedom that he had longed for in his exile. +He had thought little of his family and less of his native town, but a +nostalgia for open spaces and free wanderings had been always with him. He +had come to hate the city with its hard walled-in ways and its dirty air, +and also the eastern country-side with its little green prettiness +surrounded by fences. He longed for a land where one can see for fifty +miles, and not a man or a house. He thought that alkaline dust on his lips +would taste sweet. + +Now he saw again the scorched tawny levels, the red hills dotted with +little gnarled _pinon_ trees, the purple mystery of distant mountains. A +great friendly warmth filled his body, and his breath came a little +quickly with eagerness. When he saw a group of Mexicans jogging along the +road on their scrawny mounts he wanted to call out to them: “_Como lo va, +amigos?_” He would have liked to salute this whole country, which was his +country, and to tell it how glad he was to see it again. It was the one +thing in the world that he loved, and the only thing that had ever given +him pleasure without tincture of bitterness. + +He heard two men in the seat behind him talking. + +“Did you ever see anything so desolate?” one asked. + +“I wouldn’t live in this country if they gave it to me,” said the other. + +Ramon turned and looked at them. They were solid, important-looking men, +and having visited upon the country their impressive disapproval, they +opened newspapers and shut it away from their sight. Dull fools, thought +Ramon, who do not know God’s country when they see it. + +And then he continued to look right over their heads and their newspapers, +for tripping down the aisle all by herself at last, came the girl of his +fruitless choice. His eyes, deep with dreams, met hers. She smiled upon +him, radiantly, blushed a little, and hurried on through the car. + +He sat looking after her with a foolish grin on his face. He was pleased +and shaken. So she had noticed him after all. She had been waiting for a +chance, as well as he. And now that it had come, he was getting off the +train in an hour. It was useless to follow her.… He turned to the window +again. + + + + + + CHAPTER II + + +Usually in each generation of a large and long-established family there is +some one individual who stands out from the rest as a leader and as the +most perfect embodiment of the family traditions and characteristics. This +was especially true of the Delcasar family. It was established in this +country in the year 1790 by Don Eusabio Maria Delcasar y Morales, an +officer in the army of the King of Spain, who distinguished himself in the +conquest of New Mexico, and especially in certain campaigns against the +Navajos. As was customary at that time, the King rewarded his faithful +soldier with a grant of land in the new province. This Delcasar estate lay +in the Rio Grande Valley and the surrounding _mesa_ lands. By the +provisions of the King’s grant, its dimensions were each the distance that +Don Delcasar could ride in a day. The Don chose good horses and did not +spare them, so that he secured to his family more than a thousand square +miles of land with a strip of rich valley through the middle and a +wilderness of desert and mountain on either side. Much of this +principality was never seen by Don Eusabio, and even the four sons who +divided the estate upon his death had each more land than he could well +use. + +The outstanding figure of this second generation was Don Solomon Delcasar, +who was noted for the magnificence of his establishment, and for his +autocratic spirit. + +No Borgia or Bourbon ever ruled more absolutely over his own domain than +did Don Solomon over the hundreds of square miles which made up his +estate. He owned not only lands and herds but also men and women. The +_peones_ who worked his lands were his possessions as much as were his +horses. He had them beaten when they offended him and their daughters were +his for the taking. He could not sell them, but this restriction did not +apply to the Navajo and Apache slaves whom he captured in war. These were +his to be sold or retained for his own use as he preferred. Adult Indians +were seldom taken prisoner, as they were untameable, but boys and girls +below the age of fifteen were always taken alive, when possible, and were +valued at five hundred _pesos_ each. Don Solomon usually sold the boys, as +he had plenty of _peones_, but he never sold a comely Indian girl. + +The Don was a man of proud and irascible temper, but kindly when not +crossed. He had been known to kill a _peon_ in a fit of anger, and then +afterward to bestow all sorts of benefits upon the man’s wife and +children. + +The life of his home, like that of all the other Mexican gentlemen in his +time, was an easy and pleasant one. He owned a great _adobe_ house, built +about a square courtyard like a fort, and shaded pleasantly by cottonwood +trees. There he dwelt with his numerous family, his _peones_ and his +slaves. In the spring and summer every one worked in the fields, though +not too hard. In the fall the men went east to the great plains to kill a +supply of buffalo meat for the winter, and often after the hunt they +travelled south into Sonora and Chihuahua to trade mustangs and buffalo +hides for woven goods and luxuries. + +There was a pleasant social life among the aristocrats of dances and +visits. Marriages, funerals and christenings were occasions of great +ceremony and social importance. Indeed everything done by the Dons was +characterized by much formality and ceremony, the custom of which had been +brought over from Spain. But they were no longer really in touch with +Spanish civilization. They never went back to the mother country. They had +no books save the Bible and a few other religious works, and many of them +never learned to read these. Their lives were made up of fighting, with +the Indians and also among themselves, for there were many feuds; of +hunting and primitive trade; and of venery upon a generous and patriarchal +scale. They were Spanish gentlemen by descent, all for honour and +tradition and sentiment; but by circumstance they were barbarian lords, +and their lives were full of lust and blood. + +Circumstance somewhat modified the vaunted purity of their Spanish blood, +too. The Indian slave girls who lived in their houses bore the children of +their sons, and some of these half-bred and quarter-bred children were +eventually accepted by the _gente de razon_, as the aristocrats called +themselves. In this way a strain of Navajo blood got into the Delcasar +family, and doubtless did much good, as all of the Spanish stock was +weakened by much marrying of cousins. + +Dona Ameliana Delcasar, a sister of Don Solomon, was responsible for +another alien infusion which ultimately percolated all through the family, +and has been thought by some to be responsible for the unusual mental +ability of certain Delcasars. Dona Ameliana, a beautiful but somewhat +unruly girl, went into a convent in Durango, Mexico, at the age of +fifteen. At the age of eighteen she eloped with a French priest named +Raubien, who was a man of unusual intellect and a poet. The errant couple +came to New Mexico and took up lands. They were excommunicated, of course, +and both of them were buried in unconsecrated ground; but despite their +spiritual handicaps they raised a family of eleven comely daughters, all +of whom married well, several of them into the Delcasar family. Thus some +of the Delcasars who boasted of their pure Castilian blood were really of +a mongrel breed, comprising along with the many strains that have mingled +in Spain, those of Navajo and French. + +Don Solomon Delcasar played a brilliant part in the military activities +which marked the winning of Mexican Independence from Spain in the +eighteen-twenties, and also in the incessant Indian wars. He was a fighter +by necessity, but also by choice. They shed blood with grace and +nonchalance in those days, and the Delcasars were always known as +dangerous men. + +The most curious thing about this r�gime of the old-time Dons was the +way in which it persisted. It received its first serious blow in 1845 when +the military forces of the United States took possession of New Mexico. +Don Jesus Christo Delcasar, who was then the richest and most powerful of +the family, was suspected of being a party to the conspiracy which brought +about the Taos massacre—the last organized resistance made to the gringo +domination. At this time some of the Delcasars went to Old Mexico to live, +as did a good many others among the Dons, feeling that the old ways of +life in New Mexico were sure to change, and having the Spanish aversion to +any departure from tradition. But their fears were not realized, and life +went on as before. In 1865 the _peones_ and Indian slaves were formally +set free, but all of them immediately went deeply in debt to their former +masters and thus retained in effect the same status as before. So it +happened that in the seventies, when New York was growing into a +metropolis, and the factory system was fastening itself upon New England, +and the middle west was getting fat and populous and tame, life in the +Southwest remained much as it had been a century before. + +Laws and governments were powerless there to change ways of life, as they +have always been, but two parallel bars of steel reaching across the +prairies brought change with them, and it was great and sudden. The +railroad reached the Rio Grande Valley early in the eighties, and it +smashed the colourful barbaric pattern of the old life as the ruthless +fist of an infidel might smash a stained glass window. The metropolis of +the northern valley in those days was a sleepy little _adobe_ town of a +few hundred people, reclining about its dusty _plaza_ near the river. The +railroad, scorning to notice it, passed a mile away. Forthwith a new town +began growing up between, the old one and the railroad. And this new town +was such a town as had never before been seen in all the Southwest. It was +built of wood and only half painted. It was ugly, noisy and raw. It was +populated largely by real estate agents, lawyers, politicians and +barkeepers. It cared little for joy, leisure, beauty or tradition. Its God +was money and its occupation was business. + +This thing called business was utterly strange to the Delcasars and to all +of the other Dons. They were men of the saddle, fighting men, and traders +only in a primitive way. Business seemed to them a conspiracy to take +their lands and their goods away from them, and a remarkably successful +conspiracy. Debt and mortgage and speculation were the names of its +weapons. Some of the Dons, including many of the Delcasars, who were now a +very numerous family, owning each a comfortable homestead but no more, +sold out and went to Old Mexico. Many who stayed lost all they had in a +few years, and degenerated into petty politicians or small storekeepers. +Some clung to a bit of land and went on farming, making always less and +less money, sinking into poverty and insignificance, until some of them +were no better off than the men who had once been their _peones_. + +Diego Delcasar and Felipe Delcasar, brothers, were two who owned houses in +the Old Town and farms nearby, who stayed in the country and held their +own for a time and after a fashion. Diego Delcasar was far the more able +of the two, and a true scion of his family. He caught onto the gringo +methods to a certain extent. He divided some farm land on the edge of town +into lots and sold them for a good price. With the money he bought a great +area of mountain land in the northern part of the state, where he raised +sheep and ruled with an iron hand, much as his forbears had ruled in the +valley. He also went into politics, learned to make a good stump speech +and got himself elected to the highly congenial position of sheriff. In +this place he made a great reputation for fearlessness and for the +ruthless and skilful use of a gun. He once kicked down the locked door of +a saloon and arrested ten armed gamblers, who had threatened to kill him. +He was known and feared all over the territory and was a tyrant in his own +section of it. When a gringo prospector ventured to dispute with him the +ownership of a certain mine, the gringo was found dead in the bottom of +the shaft. It was reported that he had fallen in and broken his neck and +no one dared to look at the bullet hole in his back. + +Don Diego’s wife died without leaving him any children, but he had +numerous children none-the-less. It was said that one could follow his +wanderings about the territory by the sporadic occurrence of the +unmistakable Delcasar nose among the younger inhabitants. All of his sons +and daughters by the left hand he treated with notable generosity. He was +a sort of hero to the native people—a great fighter, a great lover—and +songs about his adventures were composed and sung around the fires in +sheep camps and by gangs of trackworkers. + +Don Diego, in a word, was a true Delcasar and a great man. Had he used his +opportunities wisely he might have been a millionaire. But at the age of +sixty he owned little besides his house and his wild mountain lands. He +drank a good deal and played poker almost every night. Once he had been a +famous winner, but in these later years he generally lost. He also formed +a partnership with a real estate broker named MacDougall, for the +development of his wild lands, and it was predicted by some that the +leading development would be an ultimate transfer of title to Mr. +MacDougall, who was known to be lending the Don money and taking land as +security. + +Don Felipe’s career was far less spectacular than that of his brother. He +owned more than Don Diego to start with, and he spent his life slowly +losing it, so that when he died he left nothing but a house in Old Town +and a single small sheep ranch, which afforded his widow, two daughters +and one son a scant living. + +This son, Ramon Delcasar, was the hope of the family. He would inherit the +estate of Don Diego, if the old Don died before spending it all, which it +did not seem likely that he would do. But Ramon early demonstrated that he +had a more important heritage in the sharp intelligence, and the proud, +plucky and truculent spirit which had characterized the best of the +Delcasars throughout the family history. + +As there was no considerable family estate for him to settle upon, he was +sent to law school at the age of twenty, and returned three years later to +take up the practice of his profession in his native town. Thus he was the +first of the Delcasars to face life with his bare hands. And he was also +the last of them in a sense, to face the gringos. All the others of his +name, save the senile Don, had either died, departed or sunk from sight +into the mass of the peasantry. + + + + + + CHAPTER III + + +The year that Ramon returned to his native town the annual fair, which +took place at the fair-grounds in Old Town, was an especially gorgeous and +throngful event, rich in spectacle and incident. A steer was roped and +hog-tied in record time by Clay MacGarnigal of Lincoln County. A +seven-mile relay race was won by a buck named Slonny Begay. In the bronco +busting contest two men were injured to the huge enjoyment of the crowd. +The twenty-seventh cavalry from Fort Bliss performed a sham battle. The +home team beat several other teams. Enormous apples raised by irrigation +in the Pecos Valley attracted much attention, and a hungry Mexican +absconded with a prize Buff Orpington rooster. + +Twice a day the single narrow street which connected the neat brick and +frame respectability of New Town with the picturesque _adobe_ squalor of +Old Town was filled by a curiously varied crowd. The tourist from the +East, distinguished by his camera and his unnecessary umbrella, jostled +the Pueblo squaw from Isleta, with her latest-born slung over her shoulder +in a fold of red blanket. Mexican families from the country marched in +single file, the men first, then the women enveloped in huge black shawls, +carrying babies and leading older children by the hand. Cowboys, Indians +and soldiers raced their horses through the swarming street with reckless +skill. Automobiles honked and fretted. The street cars, bulging humanity +at every door and window, strove in vain to relieve the situation. Several +children and numerous pigs and chickens were run over. From the unpaved +street to the cloudless sky rose a vast cloud of dust, such as only a +rainless country made of sand can produce. Dust was in every one’s eyes +and mouth and upon every one’s clothing. It was the unofficial badge of +the gathering. It turned the green of the cottonwood trees to grey, and +lay in wait for unsuspecting teeth between the halves of hamburger +sandwiches sold at corner booths. + +Ramon, who had obtained a pass to the grounds through the influence of his +uncle, went to the fair every day, although he was not really pleased with +it. He was assured by every one that it was the greatest fair ever held in +the southwest, but to him it seemed smaller, dustier and less exciting +than the fairs he had attended in his boyhood. + +This impression harmonized with a general feeling of discontent which had +possessed him since his return. He had obtained a position in the office +of a lawyer at fifty dollars a month, and spent the greater part of each +day making out briefs and borrowing books for his employer from other +lawyers. It seemed to him a petty and futile occupation, and the way to +anything better was long and obscure. The town was full of other young +lawyers who were doing the same things and doing them with a better grace +than he. They were impelled by a great desire to make money. He, too, +would have liked a great deal of money, but he had no taste for piling it +up dollar by dollar. The only thing that cheered him was the prospect of +inheriting his uncle’s wealth, and that was an uncertain prospect. Don +Diego seemed to be doing what he could to get rid of his property before +he died. + +Local society did not please Ramon either. The girls of the gringo +families were not nearly as pretty, for the most part, as the ones he had +seen in the East. The dryness and the scorching sun had a bad effect on +their complexions. The girls of his own race did not much interest him; +his liking was for blondes. And besides, girls were relatively scarce in +the West because of the great number of men who came from the East. +Competition for their favours was keen, and he could not compete +successfully because he had so little money. + +The fair held but one new experience for him, and that was the Montezuma +ball. This took place on the evening of the last day, and was an exclusive +invitation event, designed to give elegance to the fair by bringing +together prominent persons from all parts of the state. Ramon had never +attended a Montezuma ball, as he had been considered a mere boy before his +departure for college and had not owned a dress suit. But this lack had +now been supplied, and he had obtained an invitation through the Governor +of the State, who happened to be a Mexican. + +He went to the ball with his mother and his eldest sister in a carriage +which had been among the family possessions for about a quarter of a +century. It had once been a fine equipage, and had been drawn by a +spirited team in the days before Felipe Delcasar lost all his money, but +now it had a look of decay, and the team consisted of a couple of rough +coated, low-headed brutes, one of which was noticeably smaller than the +other. The coachman was a ragged native who did odd jobs about the +Delcasar house. + +The Montezuma ball took place in the new Eldorado Hotel which had recently +been built by the railroad company for the entertainment of its +transcontinental passengers. It was not a beautiful building, but it was +an apt expression of the town’s personality. Designed in the ancient style +of the early Spanish missions, long, low and sprawling, with deep +verandahs, odd little towers and arched gateways it was made of cement and +its service and prices were of the Manhattan school. A little group of +Pueblo Indians, lonesomely picturesque in buck-skin and red blankets, with +silver and turquoise rings and bracelets, were always seated before its +doors, trying to sell fruit and pottery to well-tailored tourists. It had +a museum of Southwestern antiquities and curios, where a Navajo squaw +sulkily wove blankets on a handloom for the edification of the guilded +stranger from the East. On the platform in front of it, perspiring +Mexicans smashed baggage and performed the other hard labour of a modern +terminal. + +Thus the Eldorado Hotel was rich in that contrast between the old and the +new which everywhere characterized the town. Generally speaking, the old +was on exhibition or at work, while the new was at leisure or in charge. + +When the Delcasar carriage reached the hotel, it had to take its place in +a long line of crawling vehicles, most of which were motor cars. Ramon +felt acutely humiliated to arrive at the ball in a decrepit-looking rig +when nearly every one else came in an automobile. He hoped that no one +would notice them. But the smaller of the two horses, which had spent most +of his life in the country, became frightened, reared, plunged, and +finally backed the rig into one of the cars, smashing a headlight, +blocking traffic, and making the Delcasars a target for searchlights and +oaths. The Dona Delcasar, a ponderous and swarthy woman in voluminous +black silk, became excited and stood up in the carriage, shouting shrill +and useless directions to the coachman in Spanish. People began to laugh. +Ramon roughly seized his mother by the arm and dragged her down. He was +trembling with rage and embarassment. + +It was an immense relief to him when he had deposited the two women on +chairs and was able to wander away by himself. He took up his position in +a doorway and watched the opening of the ball with a cold and disapproving +eye. The beginning was stiff, for many of those present were unknown to +each other and had little in common. Most of them were “Americans,” Jews +and Mexicans. The men were all a good deal alike in their dress suits, but +the women displayed an astonishing variety. There were tall gawky blonde +wives of prominent cattlemen; little natty black-eyed Jewesses, best +dressed of all; swarthy Mexican mothers of politically important families, +resplendent in black silk and diamonds; and pretty dark Mexican girls of +the younger generation, who did not look at all like the se�oritas of +romance, but talked, dressed and flirted in a thoroughly American manner. + +The affair finally got under way in the form of a grand march, which +toured the hall a couple of times and disintegrated into waltzing couples. +Ramon watched this proceeding and several other dances without feeling any +desire to take part. He was in a state of grand and gloomy discontent, +which was not wholly unpleasant, as is often the case with youthful +glooms. He even permitted himself to smile at some of the capers cut by +prominent citizens. But presently his gaze settled upon one couple with a +real sense of resentment and uneasiness. The couple consisted of his +uncle, Diego Delcasar, and the wife of James MacDougall, the lawyer and +real estate operator with whom the Don had formed a partnership, and whom +Ramon believed to be systematically fleecing the old man. + +Don Diego was a big, paunchy Mexican with a smooth brown face, strikingly +set off by fierce white whiskers. His partner was a tall, tight-lipped, +angular woman, who danced painfully, but with determination. The two had +nothing to say to each other, but both of them smiled resolutely, and the +Don visibly perspired under the effort of steering his inflexible friend. + +Although he did not formulate the idea, this couple was to Ramon a symbol +of the disgust with which the life of his native town inspired him. Here +was the Mexican sedulously currying favour with the gringo, who robbed him +for his pains. And here was the specific example of that relation which +promised to rob Ramon of his heritage. + +For the gringos he felt a cold hostility—a sense of antagonism and +difference—but it was his senile and fatuous uncle, the type of his own +defeated race, whom he despised. + + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + +When the music stopped Ramon left the hall for the hotel lobby, where he +soothed his sensibilities with a small brown cigarette of his own making. +In one of the swinging benches covered with Navajo blankets two other +dress-suited youths were seated, smoking and talking. One of them was a +short, plump Jew with a round and gravely good-natured face; the other a +tall, slender young fellow with a great mop of curly brown hair, large +soft eyes and a sensitive mouth. + +“She’s good looking, all right,” the little fellow assented, as Ramon came +up. + +“Good looking!” exclaimed the other with enthusiasm. “She’s a little +queen! Nothing like her ever hit this town before.” + +“Who’s all the excitement about?” Ramon demanded, thrusting himself into +the conversation with the easy familiarity which was his right as one of +“the bunch.” + +Sidney Felberg turned to him in mock amazement. + +“Good night, Ramon! Where have you been? Asleep? We’re talking about Julia +Roth, same as everybody else.…” + +“Who’s she?” Ramon queried coolly, discharging a cloud of smoke from the +depths of his lungs. “Never heard of her.” + +“Well, she’s our latest social sensation … sister of some rich lunger that +recently hit town; therefore very important. But that’s not the only +reason. Wait till you see her.” + +“All right; introduce me to her,” Ramon suggested. + +“Go on; knock him down to the lady,” Sidney proposed to his companion. + +“No, you,” Conny demurred. “I refuse to take the responsibility. He’s too +good looking.” + +“All right,” Sidney assented. “Come on. It’s the only way I can get a look +at her anyway—introducing somebody else. A good-looking girl in this town +can start a regular stampede. We ought to import a few hundred.…” + +It was during an intermission. They forced their way through a phalanx of +men brandishing programs and pencils, each trying to bring himself +exclusively to the attention of a small blonde person who seemed to have +some such quality of attractiveness for men as spilled honey has for +insects. + +When Ramon saw her he felt as though something inside of him had bumped up +against his diaphragm, taking away his breath for a moment, agitating him +strangely. And he saw an answering surprised recognition in her wide grey +eyes. + +“You … you’re the girl on the train,” he remarked idiotically, as he took +her hand. + +She turned pink and laughed. + +“You’re the man that wouldn’t look up,” she mocked. + +“What’s all this about?” demanded Sidney. “You two met before?” + +“May I have a dance?” Ramon inquired, suddenly recovering his presence of +mind. + +“Let me see … you’re awfully late.” They put their heads close together +over her program. He saw her cut out the name of another man who had two +dances, and then she held her pencil poised. + +“Of course I didn’t get your name,” she admitted. + +“No; I’ll write it … Was it Carter? Delcasar? Ramon Delcasar. You must be +Spanish. I was wondering … you’re so dark. I’m awfully interested in +Spanish people.…” She wrote the name in a bold, upright, childish hand. + +Ramon found that he had lost his mood of discontent after this, and he +entered with zest into the spirit of the dance which was fast losing its +stiff and formal character. Punch and music had broken down barriers. The +hall was noisy with the ringing, high pitched laughter of excitement. It +was warm and filled with an exotic, stimulating odour, compounded of many +perfumes and of perspiration. Every one danced. Young folk danced as +though inspired, swaying their bodies in time to the tune. The old and the +fat danced with pathetic joyful earnestness, going round and round the +hall with red and perspiring faces, as though in this measure they might +recapture youth and slimness if only they worked hard enough. Now and then +a girl sang a snatch of the tune in a clear young voice, full of abandon, +and sometimes others took up the song and it rose triumphant above the +music of the orchestra for a moment, only to be lost again as the singers +danced apart. + +Ramon had been looking forward so long and with such intense anticipation +to his dance with Julia Roth that he was a little self-conscious at its +beginning, but this feeling was abolished by the discovery that they could +dance together perfectly. He danced in silence, looking down upon her +yellow head and white shoulders, the odour of her hair filling his +nostrils, forgetful of everything but the sensuous delight of the moment. + +This mood of solemn rapture was evidently not shared by her, for presently +the yellow head was thrown back, and she smiled up at him a bit mockingly. + +“Just like on the train,” she remarked. “Not a thing to say for yourself. +Are you always thus silent?” + +Ramon grinned. + +“No,” he countered, “I was just trying to get up the nerve to ask if +you’ll let me come to see you.” + +“That doesn’t take much nerve,” she assured him. “Practically every man +I’ve danced with tonight has asked me that. I never had so many dates +before in my life.” + +“Well; may I follow the crowd, then?” + +“You may,” she laughed. “Or call me up first, and maybe there won’t be any +crowd.” + + + + + + CHAPTER V + + +His mother and sister had left early, for which fact he was thankful. He +walked home alone with his hat in his hand, letting the cold wind of early +morning blow on his hot brow. Punch and music and dancing had filled him +with a delightful excitement. He felt glad of life and full of power. He +could have gone on walking for hours, enjoying the rhythm of his stride +and the gorgeous confusion of his thoughts, but in a remarkably short time +he had covered the mile to his house in Old Town. + +It was a long, low _adobe_ with a paintless and rickety wooden verandah +along its front, and with deep-set, iron-barred windows looking upon the +square about which Old Town was built. Delcasars had lived in this house +for over a century. Once it had been the best in town. Now it was an +antiquity pointed out to tourists. Most of the Mexicans who had money had +moved away from Old Town and built modern brick houses in New Town. But +this was an expensive proceeding. The old _adobe_ houses which they left +brought them little. The Delcasars had never been able to afford this +removal. They were deeply attached to the old house and also deeply +ashamed of it. + +Ramon passed through a narrow hallway into a courtyard and across it to +his room. The light of the oil lamp which he lit showed a large oblong +chamber with a low ceiling supported by heavy timbers, whitewashed walls +and heavy old-fashioned walnut furniture. A large coloured print of Mary +and the Babe in a gilt frame hung over the wash-stand, and next to it a +college pennant was tacked over a photograph of his graduating class. +Several Navajo blankets covered most of the floor and a couple of guns +stood in a corner. + +When he was in bed his overstimulated state of mind became a torment. He +rolled and tossed, beset by exciting images and ideas. Every time that a +growing confusion of these indicated the approach of sleep, he was brought +sharply back to full consciousness by the crowing of a rooster in the +backyard. Finally he threw off the covers and sat up, cursing the rooster +in two languages and resolving to eat him. + +Sleep was out of the question now. Suddenly he remembered that this was +Sunday morning, and that he had intended going to the mountains. To start +at once would enable him to avoid an argument with his mother concerning +the inevitability of damnation for those who miss early Mass. He rose and +dressed himself, putting on a cotton shirt, a faded and dirty pair of +overalls and coarse leather riding boots; tied a red and white bandana +about his neck and stuck on his head an old felt hat minus a band and with +a drooping brim. So attired he looked exactly like a Mexican countryman—a +poor _ranchero_ or a woodcutter. This masquerade was not intentional nor +was he conscious of it. He simply wore for his holiday the kind of clothes +he had always worn about the sheep ranches. + +Nevertheless he felt almost as different from his usual self as he looked. +A good part of his identity as a poor, discontented and somewhat lazy +young lawyer was hanging in the closet with his ready-made business suit. +He took a long and noisy drink from the pitcher on the wash-stand, picked +up his shot-gun and slipped cautiously out of the house, feeling care-free +and happy. + +Behind the house was a corral with an _adobe_ wall that was ten feet high +except where it had fallen down and been patched with boards. A scrub cow +and three native horses were kept there. Two of the horses made the +ill-matched team that hauled his mother and sister to church and town. The +other was a fiery ragged little roan mare which he kept for his own use. +None of these horses was worth more than thirty dollars, and they were +easily kept on a few tons of alfalfa a year. + +The little mare laid back her ears and turned as though to annihilate him +with a kick. He quickly stepped right up against the threatening hind +legs, after the fashion of experienced horsemen who know that a kick is +harmless at short range, and laid his hand on her side. She trembled but +dared not move. He walked to her head, sliding his hand along the rough, +uncurried belly and talking to her in Spanish. In a moment he had the +bridle on her. + +The town was impressively empty and still as he galloped through it. Hoof +beats rang out like shots, scaring a late-roaming cat, which darted across +the street like a runaway shadow. + +Near the railroad station he came to a large white van, with a beam of +light emerging from its door. This was a local institution of +longstanding, known as the chile-wagon, and was the town’s only all-night +restaurant. Here he aroused a fat, sleepy old Mexican. + +“_Un tamale y cafe_,” he ordered, and then had the proprietor make him a +couple of sandwiches to put in his pocket. He consumed his breakfast +hurriedly, rolled and lit a little brown cigarette, and was off again. + +His way led up a long steep street lined with new houses and vacant lots; +then out upon the high empty level of the _mesa_. It was daylight now, of +a clear, brilliant morning. He was riding across a level prairie, which +was a grey desert most of the year, but which the rainy season of late +summer had now touched with rich colours. The grass in many of the hollows +was almost high enough to cut with a scythe, and its green expanse was +patched with purple-flowered weeds. Meadow larks bugled from the grass; +flocks of wild doves rose on whistling wings from the weed patches; a +great grey jack-rabbit with jet-tipped ears sprang from his form beside +the road and went sailing away in long effortless bounds, like a +wind-blown thing. Miles ahead were the mountains—an angular mass of blue +distance and purple shadow, rising steep five thousand feet above the +_mesa_, with little round foothills clustering at their feet. A brisk cool +wind fanned his face and fluttered the brim of his hat. + +But with the rising of the sun the wind dropped, it became warm and he +felt dull and sleepy. When he came to a little juniper bush which spread +its bit of shadow beside the road, he dismounted, pulled the saddle off +his sweating mare, and sat down in the shade to eat his lunch. When he had +finished he wished for a drink of water and philosophically took a smoke +instead. Then he lay down, using his saddle for a pillow, puffing +luxuriously at his cigarette. It was cool in his bit of shadow, though all +the world about him swam in waves of heat.… Cool and very quiet. He felt +drowsily content. This sunny desolation was to him neither lonely nor +beautiful; it was just his own country, the soil from which he had +sprung.… Colours and outlines blurred as his eyelids grew heavy. Sleep +conquered him in a sudden black rush. + +It was late afternoon when he awakened. He had meant to shoot doves, but +it was too late now to do any hunting if he was to reach Archulera’s place +before dark. He saddled his mare hurriedly and went forward at a hard +gallop. + +Archulera’s place was typical of the little Mexican ranches that dot the +Southwest wherever there is water enough to irrigate a few acres. The +brown block of _adobe_ house stood on an arid, rocky hillside, and looked +like a part of it, save for the white door, and a few bright scarlet +strings of _chile_ hung over the rafter ends to dry. Down in the _arroyo_ +was the little fenced patch where corn and _chile_ and beans were raised, +and behind the house was a round goat corral of wattled brush. The skyward +rocky waste of the mountain lifted behind the house, and the empty reach +of the _mesa_ lay before—an immense and arid loneliness, now softened and +beautified by many shadows. + +Ramon could see old man Archulera far up the mountainside, rounding up his +goats for evening milking, and he could faintly hear the bleating of the +animals and the old man’s shouts and imprecations. He whistled loudly +through his fingers and waved his hat. + +_“__Como lo va primo!__”_ he shouted, and he saw Archulera stop and look, +and heard faintly his answering, _“__Como la va!__”_ + +Soon Archulera had his goats penned, and Ramon joined him while he milked +half a dozen ewes. + +“I’m glad you came,” Archulera told him, “I haven’t seen a man in a month +except one gringo that said he was a prospector and stole a kid from me.… +How was the fair?” + +When the milking was over, the old man selected a fat kid, caught it by +the hind leg and dragged it, bleating in wild terror, to a gallows behind +the house, where he hung it up and skilfully cut its throat, leaving it to +bleat and bleed to death while he wiped his knife and went on talking +volubly with his guest. The occasional visits of Ramon were the most +interesting events in his life, and he always killed a kid to express his +appreciation. Ramon reciprocated with gifts of tobacco and whisky. They +were great friends. + +Archulera was a short, muscular Mexican with a swarthy, wrinkled face, +broad but well-cut. His big, thin-lipped mouth showed an amazing disarray +of strong yellow teeth when he smiled. His little black eyes were shrewd +and full of fire. Although he was sixty years old, there was little grey +in the thick black hair that hung almost to his shoulders. He wore a cheap +print shirt and a faded pair of overalls, belted at the waist with a strip +of red wool. His foot-gear consisted of the uppers of a pair of old shoes +with soles of rawhide sewed on moccasin-fashion. + +With no more disguise than a red blanket and a grunt Archulera could have +passed for an Indian anywhere, but he made it clear to all that he +regarded himself as a Spanish gentleman. He was descended, like Ramon, +from one of the old families, which had received occasional infusions of +native blood. There was probably more Indian in him than in the young man, +but the chief difference between the two was due to the fact that the +Archuleras had lost most of their wealth a couple of generations before, +so that the old man had come down in the social scale to the condition of +an ordinary goat-herding _pelado_. There are many such fallen aristocrats +among the New Mexican peasantry. Most of them, like Archulera, are +distinguished by their remarkably choice and fluent use of the Spanish +language, and by the formal, eighteenth-century perfection of their +manners, which contrast strangely with the barbaric way of their lives. + +The old man was now skinning and butchering the goat with speed and skill. +Nothing was wasted. The hide was flung over a rafter end to dry. The head +was washed and put in a pan, as were the smaller entrails with bits of fat +clinging to them, and the liver and heart. The meat was too fresh to be +eaten tonight, but these things would serve well enough for supper, and he +called to his daughter, Catalina, to come and get them. + +The two men soon joined her in the low, whitewashed room, which had hard +mud for a floor, and was furnished with a bare table and a few chairs. It +was clean, but having only one window and that always closed, it had a +pronounced and individual odour. In one corner was a little fireplace, +which had long served both for cooking and to furnish heat, but as a +concession to modern ideas Archulera had lately supplemented it with a +cheap range in the opposite corner. There Catalina was noisily distilling +an aroma from goat liver and onions. The entrails she threaded on little +sticks and broiled them to a delicate brown over the coals, while the head +she placed whole in the oven. Later this was cracked open and the brains +taken out with a spoon, piping hot and very savoury. These viands were +supplemented by a pan of large pale biscuits, and a big tin pot of coffee. +Catalina served the two men, saying nothing, not even raising her eyes, +while they talked and paid no attention to her. After eating her own +supper and washing the dishes she disappeared into the next room. + +This self-effacing behaviour on the part of the girl accorded with the +highest standards of Mexican etiquette, and showed her good breeding. The +fact that old Archulera paid no more attention to her than to a chair did +not indicate that he was indifferent to her. On the contrary, as Ramon had +long ago discovered, she was one of the chief concerns of his life. He +could not forget that in her veins flowed some of the very best of Spanish +blood, and he considered her altogether too good for the common +sheep-herders and wood-cutters who aspired to woo her. These he summarily +warned away, and brought his big Winchester rifle into the argument +whenever it became warm. When he left the girl alone, in order to guard +her from temptation he locked her into the house together with his dog. +Catalina had led a starved and isolated existence. + +After the meal, Archulera became reminiscent of his youth. Some +thirty-five years before he had been one of the young bloods of the +country, having fought against the Navajos and Apaches. He had made a +reputation, long since forgotten by every one but himself, for ruthless +courage and straight shooting, and many a man had he killed. In his early +life, as he had often told Ramon, he had been a boon companion of old +Diego Delcasar. The two had been associated in some mining venture, and +Archulera claimed that Delcasar had cheated him out of his share of the +proceeds, and so doomed him to his present life of poverty. When properly +stimulated by food and drink Archulera never failed to tell this story, +and to express his hatred for the man who had deprived him of wealth and +social position. He had at first approached the subject diffidently, not +knowing how Ramon would regard an attack on the good name of his uncle, +and being anxious not to offend the young man. But finding that Ramon +listened tolerantly, if not sympathetically, he had told the story over +and over, each time with more detail and more abundant and picturesque +denunciation of Diego Delcasar, but with substantial uniformity as to the +facts. As he spoke he watched the face of Ramon narrowly. Always the +recital ended about the same way. + +“You are not like your uncle,” he assured the young man earnestly, in his +formal Spanish. “You are generous, honourable. When your uncle is dead, +you will repay me for the wrongs that I have suffered—no?” + +Ramon would always laugh at this. This night, in order to humour the old +man, he asked him how much he thought the Delcasar estate owed him for his +ancient wrong. + +“Five thousand dollars!” Archulera replied with slow emphasis. He probably +had no idea how much he had lost, but five thousand dollars was his +conception of a great deal of money. + +Ramon again laughed and refused to commit himself. He certainly had no +idea of giving Archulera five thousand dollars, but he thought that if he +ever did come into his own he would certainly take care of the old man—and +of Catalina. + +Soon after this Archulera went off to sleep in the other end of the house, +after trying in vain to persuade Ramon to occupy his bed. Ramon, as +always, refused. He would sleep on a pile of sheep skins in the corner. He +really preferred this, because the sheep skins were both cleaner and +softer than Archulera’s bed, and also for another reason. + +After the old man had gone, he stretched out on his pallet, and lit +another cigarette. He could hear his host thumping around for a few +minutes; then it was very still, save for a faint moan of wind and the +ticking of a cheap clock. This late still hour had always been to him one +of the most delightful parts of his visits to Archulera’s house. For some +reason he got a sense of peace and freedom out of this far-away quiet +place. And he knew that in the next room Catalina was waiting for +him—Catalina with the strong, shapely brown body which her formless calico +smock concealed by day, with the eager, blind desire bred of her long +loneliness. + +During his first few visits to Archulera, he had scarcely noticed the +girl. That was doubtless one reason why the old man had welcomed him. He +had come here simply to go deer-hunting with Archulera, to eat his goat +meat and chile, to get away from the annoyance and boredom of his life in +town, and into the crude, primitive atmosphere which he had loved as a +boy. Catalina had been to him just the usual slovenly figure of a Mexican +woman, a self-effacing drudge. + +He had felt her eyes upon him several times, had not looked up quickly +enough to meet them, but had noticed the pretty soft curve of her cheek. +Then one night when he was stretched out on his sheep skins after +Archulera had gone to bed, the girl came into the room and began pottering +about the stove. He had watched her, wondering what she was doing. As she +knelt on the floor he noticed the curve of her hip, the droop of her +breast against her frock, the surprising round perfection of her +outstretched arm. It struck him suddenly that she was a woman to be +desired, and one who might be taken with ease. At the same time, with a +quickening of the blood, he realized that she was doing nothing, and had +merely come into the room to attract his attention. Then she glanced at +him, daring but shy, with great brown eyes, like the eyes of a gentle +animal. When she went back to her own room a moment later, he confidently +followed. + +Ever since then Catalina had been the chief object of his week-end +journeys, and his hunting largely an excuse. She had completed this life +which he led in the mountains, and which was so pleasantly different from +his life in town. For a part of the week he was a poor, young lawyer, +watchful, worried, careful; then for a couple of days he was a ragged +young Mexican and the lover of Catalina—a different man. He was the +product of a transition, and two beings warred in him. In town he was +dominated by the desire to be like the Americans, and to gain a foothold +in their life of law, greed and respectability; in the mountains he +relapsed unconsciously into the easy barbarous ways of his fathers. +Incidentally, this periodical change of personality was refreshing and a +source of strength. Catalina had been an important part of it.… As he lay +now sleepily puffing a last cigarette, he wondered why it was that he had +suddenly lost interest in the girl. + + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + +At ten o’clock in the morning Ramon was hard at work in the office of +James B. Green. He worked efficiently and with zest as he always did after +one of his trips to the mountains. He got out of these ventures into +another environment about what some men get out of sprees—a complete +change of the state of mind. Archulera and his daughter were now +completely forgotten, and all of his usual worries and plans were creeping +back into his consciousness. + +But this day he had a feeling of pleasant anticipation. At first he could +not account for it. And then he remembered the girl—the one he had seen on +the train and had met again at the Montezuma ball. It seemed as though the +thought of her had been in the back of his mind all the time, and now +suddenly came forward, claiming all his attention, stirring him to a +quick, unwonted excitement. She had said he might come to see her. He was +to ’phone first. Maybe she would be alone.… + +In this latter hope he was disappointed. She gave him the appointment, and +she herself admitted him. He thought he had never seen such a dainty bit +of fragrant perfection, all in pink that matched the pink of her strange +little crinkled mouth. + +“I’m awfully glad you came,” she told him. (Her gladness was always +awful.) She led him into the sitting room and presented him to the tall +emaciated sick man and the large placid woman who had watched over her so +carefully on the train. + +Gordon Roth greeted him with a cool and formal manner into which he +evidently tried to infuse something of cordiality, as though a desire to +be just and broad-minded struggled with prejudice. Mrs. Roth looked at him +with curiosity, and gave him a still more restrained greeting. The +conversation was a weak and painful affair, kept barely alive, now by one +and now by another. The atmosphere was heavy with disapproval. If their +greetings had left Ramon in any doubt as to the attitude of the girl’s +family toward him, that doubt was removed by the fact that neither Mrs. +Roth nor her son showed any intention of leaving the room. This would have +been not unusual if he had called on a Mexican girl, especially if she +belonged to one of the more old-fashioned families; but he knew that +American girls are left alone with their suitors if the suitor is at all +welcome. + +He knew a little about this family from hear-say. They came from one of +the larger factory towns in northern New York, and were supposed to be +moderately wealthy. They used a very broad “a” and served tea at four +o’clock in the afternoon. Gordon Roth was a Harvard graduate and did not +conceal the fact. Neither did he conceal his hatred for this sandy little +western town, where ill-health had doomed him to spend many of his days +and perhaps to end them. + +The girl was strangely different from her mother and brother. Whereas +their expressions were stiff and solemn, her eyes showed an irrepressible +gleam of humour, and her fascinating little mouth was mobile with mirth. +She fidgeted around in her chair a good deal, as a child does when bored. + +Mrs. Roth decorously turned the conversation toward the safe and reliable +subjects of literature and art. + +“What do you think of Maeterlinck, Mr. Delcasar?” she enquired in an +innocent manner that must have concealed malice. + +“I don’t know him,” Ramon admitted, “Who is he?” + +Mrs. Roth permitted herself to smile. Gordon Roth came graciously to the +rescue. + +“Maeterlinck is a great Belgian writer,” he explained. “We are all very +much interested in him.…” + +Julia gave a little flounce in her chair, and crossed her legs with a +defiant look at her mother. + +“I’m not interested in him,” she announced with decision. “I think he’s a +bore. Listen, Mr. Delcasar. You know Conny Masters? Well, he was telling +me the most thrilling tale the other day. He said that the country +Mexicans have a sort of secret religious fraternity that most of the men +belong to, and that they meet every Good Friday and beat themselves with +whips and sit down on cactus and crucify a man on a cross and all sorts of +horrible things … for penance you know, just like the monks and things in +the Middle Ages.… He claims he saw them once and that they had blood +running down to their heels. Is that all true? I’ve forgotten what he +called them.…” + +Ramon nodded. + +“Sure. The _penitentes_. I’ve seen them lots of times.” + +“O, do tell us about them. I love to hear about horrible things.” + +“Well, I’ve seen lots of _penitente_ processions, but the best one I ever +saw was a long time ago, when I was a little kid. There are not so many of +them now, and they don’t do as much as they used to. The church is down on +them, you know, and they’re afraid. Ten years ago if you tried to look at +them, they would shoot at you, but now tourists take pictures of them.” + +Gordon Roth’s curiosity had been aroused. + +“Tell me,” he broke in. “What is the meaning of this thing? How did it get +started?” + +“I don’t know exactly,” Ramon admitted. “My grandfather told me that they +brought it over from Spain centuries ago, and the Indians here had a sort +of whipping fraternity, and the two got mixed up, I guess. The church used +to tolerate it; it was a regular religious festival. But now it’s +outlawed. They still have a lot of political power. They all vote the same +way. One man that was elected to Congress—they say that the _penitente_ +stripes on his back carried him there. And he was a gringo too. But I +don’t know. It may be a lie.…” + +“But tell us about that procession you saw when you were a little boy,” +Julia broke in. She was leaning forward with her chin in her hand, and her +big grey eyes, wide with interest, fixed upon his face. + +“Well, I was only about ten years old, and I was riding home from one of +our ranches with my father. We were coming through _Tijeras_ canyon. It +was March, and there was snow on the ground in patches, and the mountains +were cold and bare, and I remember I thought I was going to freeze. Every +little while we would get off and set fire to a tumble-weed by the road, +and warm our hands and then go on again.… + +“Anyway, pretty soon I heard a lot of men singing, all together, in deep +voices, and the noise echoed around the canyon and sounded awful solemn. +And I could hear, too, the slap of the big wide whips coming down on the +bare backs, wet with blood, like slapping a man with a wet towel, only +louder. I didn’t know what it was, but my father did, and he called to me +and we spurred our horses right up the mountain, and hid in a clump of +cedar up there. Then they came around a bend in the road, and I began to +cry because they were all covered with blood, and one of them fell down.… +My father slapped me and told me to shut up, or they would come and shoot +us.” + +“But what did they look like? What were they doing?” Julia demanded +frowning at him, impatient with his rambling narrative. + +“Well, in front there was _un carreta del muerto_. That means a wagon of +death. I don’t think you would ever see one any more. It was just an +ordinary wagon drawn by six men, naked to the waist and bleeding, with +other men walking beside them and beating them with blacksnake whips, just +like they were mules. In the wagon they had a big bed of stones, covered +with cactus, and a man sitting in the cactus, who was supposed to +represent death. And then they had a Virgin Mary, too. Four _penitentes_ +just like the others, with nothing on but bloody pants and black bandages +around their eyes, carried the image on a litter raised up over their +heads, and they had swords fastened to their elbows and stuck between +their ribs, so that if they let down, the swords would stick into their +hearts and kill them. And behind that came the _Cristo_—the man that +represented Jesus, you know, dragging a big cross. Behind him came twenty +or thirty more _penitentes_, the most I ever saw at once, some of them +whipping themselves with big broad whips made out of _amole_. One was too +weak to whip himself, so two others walked behind him and whipped him. +Pretty soon he fell down and they walked over him and stepped on his +stomach.…” + +“But did they crucify the man, the whatever-you-call-him?” Gordon +demanded. + +“The _Cristo_. Sure. They crucify one every year. They used to nail him. +Now they generally do it with ropes, but that’s bad enough, because it +makes him swell up and turn blue.… Sometimes he dies.” + +Julia was listening with lips parted and eyes wide, horrified and yet +fascinated, as are so many women by what is cruel and bloody. But Gordon, +who had become equally interested, was cool and inquisitive. + +“And you mean to tell me that at one time nearly all the—er—native people +belonged to this barbaric organization, and that many of them do yet?” + +“Nearly all the common _pelados_,” Ramon hastened to explain. “They are +nearly all Indian or part Indian, you know. Not the educated people.” Here +a note of pride came into his voice. “We are descended from officers of +the Spanish army—the men who conquered this country. In the old days, +before the Americans came, all these common people were our slaves.” + +“I see,” said Gordon Roth in a dry and judicial tone. + +The _penitentes_, as a subject of conversation, seemed exhausted for the +time being and Ramon had given up all hope of being alone with Julia. He +rose and took his leave. To his delight Julia followed him to the door. In +the hall she gave him her hand and looked up at him, and neither of them +found anything to say. For some reason the pressure of her hand and the +look of her eyes flustered and confused him more than had all the coldness +and disapproval of her family. At last he said good-bye and got away, with +his hat on wrong side before and the blood pounding in his temples. + + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + +During the following weeks Ramon worked even less than was his custom. He +also neglected his trips to the mountains and most of his other +amusements. They seemed to have lost their interest for him. But he was a +regular attendant upon the weekly dances which were held at the country +club, and to which he had never gone before. + +The country club was a recent acquisition of the town, backed by a number +of local business men. It consisted of a picturesque little frame lodge +far out upon the _mesa_, and a nine-hole golf course, made of sand and +haunted by lizards and rattlesnakes. It had become a centre of local +society, although there was a more exclusive organization known as the +Forty Club, which gave a formal ball once a month. Ramon had never been +invited to join the Forty Club, but the political importance of his family +had procured him a membership in the country club and it served his +present purpose very well, for he found Julia Roth there every Saturday +night. This fact was the sole reason for his going. His dances with her +were now the one thing in life to which he looked forward with pleasure, +and his highest hope was that he might be alone with her. + +In this he was disappointed for a long time because Julia was the belle of +the town. Her dainty, provocative presence seemed always to be the centre +of the gathering. Women envied her and studied her frocks, which were +easily the most stylish in town. Men flocked about her and guffawed at her +elfin stabs of humour. Her program was always crowded with names, and when +she went for a stroll between dances she was generally accompanied by at +least three men of whom Ramon was often one. And while the others made her +laugh at their jokes or thrilled her with accounts of their adventures, he +was always silent and worried—an utter bore, he thought. + +This girl was a new experience to him. With the egotism of twenty-four, he +had regarded himself as a finished man of the world, especially with +regard to women. They had always liked him. He was good to look at and his +silent, self-possessed manner touched the feminine imagination. He had had +his share of the amorous adventures that come to most men, and his +attitude toward women had changed from the hesitancy of adolesence to the +purposeful, confident and somewhat selfish attitude of the male accustomed +to easy conquest. + +This girl, by a smile and touch of her hand, seemed to have changed him. +She filled him with a mighty yearning. He desired her, and yet there was a +puzzling element in his feeling that seemed to transcend desire. And he +was utterly without his usual confidence and purpose. He had reason enough +to doubt his success, but aside from that she loomed in his imagination as +something high and unattainable. He had no plan. His strength seemed to +have oozed out of him. He pursued her persistently enough—in fact too +persistently—but he did it because he could not help it. + +The longer he followed in her wake, the more marked his weakness became. +When he approached her to claim a dance he was often aware of a faint +tremble in his knees, and was embarrassed by the fact that the palms of +his hands were sweating. He felt that he was a fool and swore at himself. +And he was wholly unable to believe that he was making any impression upon +her. True, she was quite willing to flirt with him. She looked up at him +with an arch, almost enquiring glance when he came to claim her for a +dance, but he seldom found much to say at such times, being too wholly +absorbed in the sacred occupation of dancing with her. And it seemed to +him that she flirted with every one else, too. This did not in the least +mitigate his devotion, but it made him acutely uncomfortable to watch her +dance with other men, and especially with Conny Masters. + +Masters was the son of a man who had made a moderate fortune in the +tin-plate business. He had come West with his mother who had a weak +throat, had fallen in love with the country, and scandalized his family by +resolutely refusing to go back to Indiana and tin cans. He spent most of +his time riding about the country, equipped with a note book and a camera, +studying the Mexicans and Indians, and taking pictures of the scenery. He +said that he was going to make a literary career, but the net product of +his effort for two years had been a few sonnets of lofty tone but vague +meaning, and a great many photographs, mostly of sunsets. + +Conny was not a definite success as a writer, but he was unquestionably a +gifted talker, and he knew the country better than did most of the +natives. He made real to Julia the romance which she craved to find in the +West. And her watchful and suspicious family seemed to tolerate if not to +welcome him. Ramon knew that he went to the Roth’s regularly. He began to +feel something like hatred for Conny whom he had formerly liked. + +This feeling was deepened by the fact that Conny seemed to be specially +bent on defeating Ramon’s ambition to be alone with the girl. If no one +else joined them at the end of a dance, Conny was almost sure to do so, +and to occupy the intermission with one of his ever-ready monologues, +while Ramon sat silent and angry, wondering what Julia saw to admire in +this windy fool, and occasionally daring to wonder whether she really saw +anything in him after all. + +But a sufficiently devoted lover is seldom wholly without a reward. There +came an evening when Ramon found himself alone with her. And he was aware +with a thrill that she had evaded not only Conny, but two other men. Her +smile was friendly and encouraging, too, and yet he could not find +anything to say which in the least expressed his feelings. + +“Are you going to stay in this country long?” he began. The question +sounded supremely casual, but it meant a great deal to him. He was haunted +by a fear that she would depart suddenly, and he would never see her +again. She smiled and looked away for a moment before replying, as though +perhaps this was not exactly what she had expected him to say. + +“I don’t know. Gordon wants mother and me to go back East this fall, but I +don’t want to go and mother doesn’t want to leave Gordon alone.… We +haven’t decided. Maybe I won’t go till next year.” + +“I suppose you’ll go to college won’t you?” + +“No; I wanted to go to Vassar and then study art, but mother says college +spoils a girl for society. She thinks the way the Vassar girls walk is +perfectly dreadful. I offered to go right on walking the same way, but she +said anyway college makes girls so frightfully broad-minded.…” + +Ramon laughed. + +“What will you do then?” + +“I’ll come out.” + +“Out of what?” + +“Make my d�but, don’t you know?” + +“O, yes.” + +“In New York. I have an aunt there. She knows all the best people, mother +says.” + +“What happens after you come out?” + +“You get married if anybody will have you. If not, you sort of fade away +and finally go into uplift work about your fourth season.” + +“But of course, you’ll get married. I bet you’ll marry a millionaire.” + +“I don’t know. Mother wants me to marry a broker. She says the big +financial houses in New York are conducted by the very best people. But +Gordon thinks I ought to marry a professional man—a doctor or something. +He thinks brokers are vulgar. He says money isn’t everything.” + +“What do you think?” + +“I haven’t a thought to my name. All my thinking has been done for me +since infancy. I don’t know what I want, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t +get it if I did.… Come on. They’ve been dancing for ten minutes. If we +stay here any longer it’ll be a scandal.” + +She rose and started for the hall. He suddenly realized that his +long-sought opportunity was slipping away from him. He caught her by the +hand. + +“Don’t go, please. I want to tell you something.” + +She met his hand with a fair grip, and pulled him after her with a laugh. + +“Some other time,” she promised. + + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + +In most of their social diversions the town folk tended always more and +more to ape the ways of the East. Local colour, they thought, was all +right in its place, which was a curio store or a museum, but they desired +their town to be modern and citified, so that the wealthy eastern +health-seeker would find it a congenial home. The scenery and the historic +past were recognized as assets, but they should be the background for a +life of “culture, refinement and modern convenience” as the president of +the Chamber of Commerce was fond of saying. + +Hence the riding parties and picnics of a few years before had given way +to aggressively formal balls and receptions; but one form of entertainment +that was indigenous had survived. This was known as a “_mesa_ supper.” It +might take place anywhere in the surrounding wilderness of mountain and +desert. Several auto-loads of young folk would motor out, suitably +chaperoned and laden with provisions. Beside some water hole or mountain +stream fires would be built, steaks broiled and coffee brewed. Afterward +there would be singing and story-telling about the fire, and romantic +strolls by couples. + +It was one of these expeditions that furnished Ramon with his second +opportunity in three weeks to be alone with Julia Roth. The party had +journeyed to Los Ojuellos, where a spring of clear water bubbled up in the +centre of the _mesa_. A grove of cottonwood trees shadowed the place, and +there was an ancient _adobe_ ruin which looked especially effective by +moonlight. + +The persistent Conny Masters was a member of the party, but he was +handicapped by the fact that he knew more about camp cookery than anyone +else present. He had made a special study of Mexican dishes and had +written an article about them which had been rejected by no less than +twenty-seven magazines. He made a specialty of the _enchilada_, which is a +delightful concoction of corn meal, eggs and chile, and he had perfected a +recipe of his own for this dish which he had named the Conny Masters +junior. + +As soon as the baskets were unpacked and the chaperones were safely +anchored on rugs and blankets with their backs against trees, there was a +general demand, strongly backed by Ramon, that Conny should cook supper. +He was soon absorbed in the process, volubly explaining every step, while +the others gathered about him and offered encouragement and humorous +suggestion. But there was soon a gradual dispersion of the group, some +going for wood and some for water, and others on errands unstated. + +Ramon found himself strolling under the cottonwoods with Julia. Neither of +them had said anything. It was almost as though the tryst had been agreed +upon before. She picked her way slowly among the tussocks of dried grass, +her skirt daintily kilted. A faint but potent perfume from her hair and +dress blew over him. He ventured to support her elbow with a reverent +touch. Never had she seemed more desirable, nor yet, for some reason, more +remote. + +Suddenly she stopped and looked up at the great desert stars. + +“Isn’t it big and beautiful?” she demanded. “And doesn’t it make you feel +free? It’s never like this at home, somehow.” + +“What is it like where you live?” he enquired. He had a persistent desire +to see into her life and understand it, but everything she told him only +made her more than ever to him a being of mysterious origin and destiny. + +“It’s a funny little New York factory city with very staid ways,” she +said. “You go to a dance at the country club every Saturday night and to +tea parties and things in between. You fight, bleed and die for your +social position and once in a while you stop and wonder why.… It’s a bore. +You can see yourself going on doing the same thing till the day of your +death.…” + +Her discontent with things as they are found ready sympathy. + +“That’s just the way it is here,” he said with conviction. “You can’t see +anything ahead.” + +“Oh, I don’t think its the same here at all,” she protested. “This +country’s so big and interesting. It’s different.” + +“Tell me how,” he demanded. “I haven’t seen anything interesting here +since I got back,—except you.” + +She ignored the exception. + +“I can’t express it exactly. The people here are just like people +everywhere else—most of them. But the country looks so big and unoccupied. +And blue mountains are so alluring. There might be anything beyond them … +adventures, opportunities.…” + +This idea was a bit too rarefied for Ramon, but he could agree about the +mountains. + +“It’s a fine country,” he assented. “For those that own it.” + +“It’s just a feeling I have about it,” she went on, trying to express her +own half-formulated idea. “But then I have that feeling about life in +general, and there doesn’t seem to be anything in it. I mean the feeling +that it’s full of thrilling things, but somehow you miss them all.” + +“I have felt something like that,” he admitted. “But I never could say +it.” + +This discovery of an idea in common seemed somehow to bring them closer +together. His hand tightened gently about her arm; almost unconsciously he +drew her toward him. But she seemed to be all absorbed in the discussion. + +“You have no right to complain,” she told him. “A man can do something +about it.” + +“Yes,” he agreed, speaking a reflection without stopping to put it in +conventional language. “It must be hell to be a woman … excuse me … I +mean.…” + +“Don’t apologize. It is—just that. A man at least has a fighting chance to +escape boredom. But they won’t even let a woman fight. I wish I were a +man.” + +“Well; I don’t,” he asserted with warmth, unconsciously tightening his +hold upon her arm. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re a woman.” + +“Oh, are you?” She looked up at him with challenging, provocative eyes. + +For an instant a kiss was imminent. It hovered between them like an +invisible fairy presence of which they both were sweetly aware, and no one +else. + +“Hey there! all you spooners!” came a jovial and irreverent voice from the +vicinity of the camp fire. “Come and eat.” + +The moment was lost; the fairy presence gone. She turned with a little +laugh, and they went in silence back to the fire. They were last to enter +the circle of ruddy light, and all eyes were upon them. She was pink and +self-conscious, looking at her feet and picking her way with exaggerated +care. He was proud and elated. This, he knew, would couple their names in +gossip, would make her partly his. + + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + +He wanted to call on her again, but he felt that he had been insulted and +rejected by the Roths, and his pride fought against it. Unable to think +for long of anything but Julia he fell into the habit of walking by her +house at night, looking at its lighted windows and wondering what she was +doing. Often he could see the moving figures and hear the laughter of some +gay group about her, but he could not bring himself to go in and face the +chilly disapproval of her family. At such times he felt an utter outcast, +and sounded depths of misery he had never known before. For this was his +first real love, and he loved in the helpless, desperate way of the Latin, +without calculation or humour. + +One evening there was a gathering on the porch of the Roth house. She was +there, sitting on the steps with three men about her. He could see the +white blur of her frock and hear her funny little bubbling laugh above the +deeper voices of the men. Having ascertained that neither Gordon Roth nor +his mother was there, he summoned his courage and went in. She could not +see who he was until he stood almost over her. + +“O, it’s you! I’m awfully glad.…” Their hands met and clung for a moment +in the darkness. He sat down on the steps at her feet, and the +conversation moved on without any assistance from him. He was now just as +happy as he had been miserable a few minutes before. + +Presently two of the other men went away, but the third, who was Conny +Masters, stayed. He talked volubly as ever, telling wonderful and +sometimes incredible stories of things he had seen and done in his +wanderings. Ramon said nothing. Julia responded less and less. Once she +moved to drop the wrap from about her shoulders, and the alert Conny +hastened to assist her. Ramon watched and envied with a thumping heart as +he saw the gleam of her bare white shoulders, and realized that his rival +might have touched them. + +Conny went on talking for half an hour with astonishing endurance and +resourcefulness, but it became always more apparent that he was not +captivating his audience. He had to laugh at his own humour and expatiate +on his own thrills. Finally a silence fell upon the three, broken only by +occasional commonplace remarks. + +“Well, I guess it’s time to drift,” Conny observed at last, looking +cautiously at his watch. + +This suggestion was neither seconded by Ramon nor opposed by Julia. The +silence literally pushed Conny to his feet. + +“Going, Ramon? No? Well, Good night.” And he retired whistling in a way +which showed his irritation more plainly than if he had sworn. + +The two impolite ones sat silent for a long moment. Ramon was trying to +think of what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. Finally +without looking at her he said in a low husky voice. + +“You know … I love you.” + +There was more silence. At last he looked up and met her eyes. They were +serious for the first time in his experience, and so was her usually +mocking little mouth. Her face was transformed and dignified. More than +ever she seemed a strange, high being. And yet he knew that now she was +within his reach.… That he could kiss her lips … incredible.… And yet he +did, and the kiss poured flame over them and welded them into each others’ +arms. + +They heard Gordon Roth in the house coughing, the cough coming closer. + +She pushed him gently away. + +“Go now,” she whispered. “I love you … Ramon.” + + + + + + CHAPTER X + + +His conquest was far from giving him peace. Her kiss had transformed his +high vague yearning into hot relentless desire. He wanted her. That became +the one clear thing in life to him. Reflections and doubts were alien to +his young and primitive spirit. He did not try to look far into the +future. He only knew that to have her would be delight almost unimaginable +and to lose her would be to lose everything. + +His attitude toward her changed. He claimed her more and more at dances. +She did not want to dance with him so much because “people would talk,” +but his will was harder than hers and to a great extent he had his way. He +now called on her regularly too. He knew that she had fought hard for him +against her family, and had won the privilege for him of calling “not too +often.” + +“I’ve lied for you frightfully,” she confessed. “I told them I didn’t +really care for you in the least, but I want to see you because you can +tell such wonderful things about the country. So talk about the country +whenever they’re listening. And don’t look at me the way you do.…” + +Mother and brother were alert and suspicious despite her assurance, and +manœuvred with cool skill to keep the pair from being alone. Only rarely +did he get the chance to kiss her—once when her brother, who was standing +guard over the family treasure, was seized with a fit of coughing and had +to leave the room, and again when her mother was called to the telephone. +At such times she shrank away from him at first as though frightened by +the intensity of the emotion she had created, but she never resisted. To +him these brief and stolen embraces were almost intolerably sweet, like +insufficient sips of water to a man burned up with thirst. + +She puzzled him as much as ever. When he was with her he felt as sure of +her love as of his own existence. And yet she often sought to elude him. +When he called up for engagements she objected and put him off. And she +surrounded herself with other men as much as ever, and flirted gracefully +with all of them, so that he was always feeling the sharp physical pangs +of jealousy. Sometimes he felt egotistically sure that she was merely +trying by these devices to provoke his desire the more, but at other times +he thought her voice over the phone sounded doubtful and afraid, and he +became wildly eager to get to her and make sure of her again. + +Just as her kiss had crystallized his feeling for her into driving desire, +so it had focussed and intensified his discontent. Before he had been more +or less resigned to wait for his fortune and the power he meant to make of +it; now it seemed to him that unless he could achieve these things at +once, they would never mean anything to him. For money was the one thing +that would give him even a chance to win her. It was obviously useless to +ask her to marry him poor. He would have nothing to bring against the +certain opposition of her family. He could not run away with her. And +indeed he was altogether too poor to support a wife if he had one, least +of all a wife who had been carefully groomed and trained to capture a +fortune. + +There was only one way. If he could go to her strong and rich, he felt +sure that he could persuade her to go away with him, for he knew that she +belonged to him when he was with her. He pictured himself going to her in +a great motor car. Such a car had always been in his imagination the +symbol of material strength. He felt sure he could destroy her doubts and +hesitations. He would carry her away and she would be all and irrevocably +his before any one could interfere or object. + +This dream filled and tortured his imagination. Its realization would mean +not only fulfilment of his desire, but also revenge upon the Roths for the +humiliations they had made him feel. It pushed everything else out of his +mind—all consideration of other and possibly more feasible methods of +pushing his suit. He came of a race of men who had dared and dominated, +who had loved and fought, but had never learned how to work or to endure. + +When he gave himself up to his dream he was almost elated, but when he +came to contemplate his actual circumstances, he fell into depths of +discouragement and melancholy. His uncle stood like a rock between him and +his desire. He thought of trying to borrow a few thousand dollars from old +Diego, and of leaving the future to luck, but he was too intelligent long +to entertain such a scheme. The Don would likely have provided him with +the money, and he would have done it by hypothecating more of the Delcasar +lands to MacDougall. Then Ramon would have had to borrow more, and so on, +until the lands upon which all his hopes and dreams were based had passed +forever out of his reach. + +The thing seemed hopeless, for Don Diego might well live for many years. +And yet Ramon did not give up hope. He was worried, desperate and bitter, +but not beaten. He had still that illogical faith in his own destiny which +is the gift that makes men of action. + +At this time he heard particularly disquieting things about his uncle. Don +Diego was reputed to be spending unusually large sums of money. As he +generally had not much ready cash, this must mean either that he had sold +land or that he had borrowed from MacDougall, in which case the land had +doubtless been given as security. Once it was converted into cash in the +hands of Diego, Ramon knew that his prospective fortune would swiftly +vanish. He determined to watch the old man closely. + +He learned that Don Diego was playing poker every night in the back room +of the White Camel pool hall. Gambling was supposed to be prohibited in +the town, but this sanctum was regularly the scene for a game, which had +the reputation of causing more money to change hands than any other in the +southwest. Ramon hung about the White Camel evening after evening, trying +to learn how much his uncle was losing. He would have liked to go and +stand behind his chair and watch the game, but both etiquette and pride +prevented him doing this. On two nights his uncle came out surrounded by a +laughing crowd, a little bit tipsy, and was hurried into a cab. Ramon had +no chance to speak either to him or to any one else who had been in the +game. But the third night he came out alone, heavy with liquor, talking to +himself. The other players had already gone out, laughing. The place was +nearly deserted. The Don suddenly caught sight of Ramon and came to him, +laying heavy hands on his shoulders, looking at him with bleary, +tear-filled eyes. + +“My boy, my nephew,” he exclaimed in Spanish, his voice shaking with boozy +emotion, “I am glad you are here. Come I must talk to you.” And steadied +by Ramon he led the way to a bench in a corner. Here his manner suddenly +changed. He threw back his head haughtily and slapped his knee. + +“I have lost five hundred dollars tonight,” he announced proudly. “What do +I care? I am a rich man. I have lost a thousand dollars in the last three +nights. That is nothing. I am rich.” + +He thumped his chest, looking around defiantly. Then he leaned forward in +a confidential manner and lowered his voice. + +“But these gringos—they have gone away and left me. You saw them? +_Cabrones!_ They have got my money. That is all they want. My boy, all +gringos are alike. They want nothing but money. They can hear the rattle +of a _peso_ as far as a _burro_ can smell a bear. They are mean, stingy! +Ah, my boy! It is not now as it was in the old days. Then money counted +for nothing! Then a man could throw away his last dollar and there were +always friends to give him more. But now your dollars are your only true +friends, and when you have lost them, you are alone indeed. Ah, my boy! +The old days were the best!” The old Don bent his head over his hands and +wept. + +Ramon looked at him with a mighty disgust and with a resentment that +filled his throat and made his head hot. He had never before realized how +much broken by age and drink his uncle was. Before, he had suspected and +feared that Don Diego was wasting his property; now he knew it. + +The Don presently looked up again with tear-filled eyes, and went on +talking, holding Ramon by the lapel of the coat in a heavy tremulous grip. +He talked for almost an hour, his senile mind wandering aimlessly through +the scenes of his long and picturesque career. He would tell tales of his +loves and battles of fifty years ago—tales full of lust and greed and +excitement. He would come back to his immediate troubles and curse the +gringos again for a pack of miserable dollar-mongers, who knew not the +meaning of friendship. And again his mind would leap back irrelevantly to +some woman he had loved or some man he had killed in the spacious days +where his imagination dwelt. Ramon listened eagerly, hoping to learn +something definite about the Don’s dealings with MacDougall, but the old +man never touched upon this. He did tell one story to which Ramon listened +with interest. He told how, twenty-five years before, he and another man +named Cristobal Archulera had found a silver mine in the Guadelupe +Mountains, and how he had cheated the other out of his interest by filing +the claim in his own name. He told this as a capital joke, laughing and +thumping his knee. + +“Do you know where Archulera is now?” Ramon ventured to ask. + +“Archulera? No, No; I have not seen Archulera for twenty years. I heard +that he married a very common woman, half Indian.… I don’t know what +became of him.” + +The last of the pool players had now gone out; a Mexican boy had begun to +sweep the floor; the place was about to close for the night. Ramon got his +uncle to his feet with some difficulty, and led him outdoors where he +looked about in vain for one of the cheap autos that served the town as +taxicabs. There were only three or four of them, and none of these were in +sight. The flat-wheeled street car had made its last screeching trip for +the night. There was nothing for it but to take the Don by the arm and +pilot him slowly homeward. + +Refreshed by the night air, the old man partially sobered, walked with a +steady step, and talked more eloquently and profusely than ever. Women +were his subject now, and it was a subject upon which he had great store +of material. He told of the women of the South, of Sonora and Chihuahua +where he had spent much of his youth, of how beautiful they were. He told +of a slim little creature fifteen years old with big black eyes whom he +had bought from her _peon_ father, and of how she had feared him and how +he had conquered her and her fear. He told of slave girls he had bought +from the Navajos as children and raised for his pleasure. He told of a +French woman he had loved in Mexico City and how he had fought a duel with +her husband. He rose to heights of sentimentality and delved into depths +of obscenity, now speaking of his heart and what it had suffered, and +again leering and chuckling like a satyr over some tale of splendid +desire. + +Ramon, walking silent and outwardly respectful by his side, listened to +all this with a strange mixture of envy and rage. He envied the old Don +the rich share he had taken of life’s feast. Whatever else he might be the +Don was not one of those who desire but do not dare. He had taken what he +wanted. He had tasted many emotions and known the most poignant delights. +And now that he was old and his blood was slow, he stood in the way of +others who desired as greatly and were as avid of life as ever he had +been. Ramon felt a great bitterness that clutched at his throat and half +blinded his eyes. He too loved and desired. And how much more greatly he +desired than ever had this old man by his side, with his wealth and his +easy satisfactions! The old Don apparently had never been thwarted, and +therefore he did not know how keen and punishing a blade desire may be! + +Tense between the two was the enmity that ever sunders age and youth—age +seeking to keep its sovereignty of life by inculcating blind respect and +reverence, and youth rebellious, demanding its own with the passion of hot +blood and untried flesh. + +Between Old Town and New Town flowed an irrigating ditch, which the +connecting street crossed by means of an old wooden bridge. The ditch was +this night full of swift water, which tore at the button willows on the +bank and gurgled against the bridge timbers. As they crossed it the idea +came into Ramon’s head that if a man were pushed into the brown water he +would be swiftly carried under the bridge and drowned. + + + + + + CHAPTER XI + + +The following Saturday evening Ramon was again riding across the _mesa_, +clad in his dirty hunting clothes, with his shotgun hung in the cinches of +his saddle. At the start he had been undecided where he was going. +Tormented by desire and bitter over the poverty which stood between him +and fulfilment, he had flung the saddle on his mare and ridden away, +feeling none of the old interest in the mountains, but impelled by a great +need to escape the town with all its cruel spurs and resistances. + +Already the rhythm of his pony’s lope and the steady beat of the breeze in +his face had calmed and refreshed him. The bitter, exhausting thoughts +that had been plucking at his mind gave way to the idle procession of +sensations, as they tend always to do when a man escapes the artificial +existence of towns into the natural, animal one of the outdoors. He began +to respond to the deep appeal which the road, the sense of going +somewhere, always had for him. For he came of a race of wanderers. His +forbears had been restless men to cross an ocean and most of a continent +in search of homes. He was bred to a life of wandering and adventure. Long +pent-up days in town always made him restless, and the feel of a horse +under him and of distance to be overcome never failed to give him a sense +of well-being. + +Crossing a little _arroyo_, he saw a covey of the blue desert quail with +their white crests erect, darting among the rocks and cactus on the +hillside. It was still the close season, but he never thought of that. In +an instant he was all hunter, like a good dog in sight of game. He slipped +from his horse, letting the reins fall to the ground, and went running up +the rocky slope, cleverly using every bit of cover until he came within +range. At the first shot he killed three of the birds, and got another as +they rose and whirred over the hill top. He gathered them up quickly, +stepping on the head of a wounded one, and stuffed them into his pockets. +He was grinning, now, and happy. The bit of excitement had washed from his +mind for the time being the last vestige of worry. He lit a cigarette and +lay on his back to smoke it, stretching out his legs luxuriously, watching +the serene gyrations of a buzzard. When he had extracted the last possible +puff from the tobacco, he went back to his horse and rode on toward +Archulera’s ranch, feeling a keen interest in the coarse but substantial +supper which he knew the old man would give him. + +His visit this time proceeded just as had all of the others, and he had +never enjoyed one more thoroughly. Again the old man killed a fatted kid +in his honour, and again they had a great feast of fresh brains and tripe +and biscuits and coffee, with the birds, fried in deep lard, as an added +luxury. Catalina served them in silence as usual, but stole now and then a +quick reproachful look at Ramon. Afterward, when the girl had gone, there +were many cigarettes and much talk, as before, Archulera telling over +again the brave wild record of his youth. And, as always, he told, just as +though he had never told it before, the story of how Diego Delcasar had +cheated him out of his interest in a silver mine in the Guadelupe +Mountains. As with each former telling he became this time more +unrestrained in his denunciation of the man who had betrayed him. + +“You are not like him,” he assured Ramon with passionate earnestness. “You +are generous, honourable! When your uncle is dead—when he is dead, I +say—you will pay me the five thousand dollars which your family owes to +mine. Am I right, _amigo?_” + +Ramon, who was listening with only half an ear, was about to make some +off-hand reply, as he had always done before. But suddenly a strange, +stirring idea flashed through his brain. Could it be? Could that be what +Archulera meant? He glanced at the man. Archulera was watching him with +bright black eyes—cunning, feral—the eyes of a primitive fighting man, +eyes that had never flinched at dealing death. + +Ramon knew suddenly that his idea was right. Blood pounded in his temples +and a red mist of excitement swam before his eyes. + +“Yes!” he exclaimed, leaping to his feet. “Yes! When my uncle is dead I +will pay you the five thousand dollars which the estate owes you!” + +The old man studied him, showing no trace of excitement save for the +brightness of his eyes. + +“You swear this?” he demanded. + +Ramon stood tall, his head lifted, his eyes bright. + +“Yes; I swear it,” he replied, more quietly now. “I swear it on my honour +as a Delcasar!” + + + + + + CHAPTER XII + + +The murder of Don Diego Delcasar, which occurred about three weeks later, +provided the town with an excitement which it thoroughly enjoyed. Although +there was really not a great deal to be said about the affair, since it +remained from the first a complete mystery, the local papers devoted a +great deal of space to it. The _Evening Journal_ announced the event in a +great black headline which ran all the way across the top of the first +page. The right-hand column was devoted to a detailed description of the +scene of the crime, while the rest of the page was occupied by a picture +of the Don, by a hastily written and highly inaccurate account of his +career, and by statements from prominent citizens concerning the great +loss which the state had suffered in the death of this, one of its oldest +and most valued citizens. + +In the editorial columns the Don was described as a Spanish gentleman of +the old school, and one who had always lived up to its highest traditions. +The fact was especially emphasized that he had commanded the respect and +confidence of both the races which made up the population of the state, +and his long and honourable association in a business enterprise with a +leading local attorney was cited as proof of the fact that he had been +above all race antagonisms. + +The morning _Herald_ took a slightly different tack. Its editorial writer +was a former New York newspaperman of unusual abilities who had been +driven to the Southwest by tuberculosis. In an editorial which was +deplored by many prominent business men, he pointed out that unpunished +murderers were all too common in the State. He cited several cases like +this of Don Delcasar in which prominent men had been assassinated, and no +arrest had followed. Thus, only a few years before, Col. Manuel Escudero +had been killed by a shot fired through the window of a saloon, and still +more recently Don Solomon Estrella had been found drowned in a vat of +sheep-dip on his own ranch. He cited statistics to show that the +percentage of convictions in murder trials in that State was exceedingly +small. Daringly, he asked how the citizens could expect to attract to the +State the capital so much needed for its development, when assassination +for personal and political purposes was there tolerated much as it had +been in Europe during the Middle Ages. He ended by a plea that the Mounted +Police should be strengthened, so that it would be capable of coping with +the situation. + +This editorial started a controversy between the two papers which +ultimately quite eclipsed in interest the fact that Don Delcasar was dead. +The _Morning Journal_ declared that the _Herald_ editorial was in effect a +covert attack upon the Mexican people, pointing out that all the cases +cited were those of Mexicans, and it came gallantly and for political +reason to the defence of the race. At this point the _“__Tribuna del +Pueblo__”_ of Old Town jumped into the fight with an editorial in which it +was asserted that both the gringo papers were maligning the Mexican +people. It pointed out that the gringos controlled the political machinery +of the State, and that if murder was there tolerated the dominant race was +to blame. + +Meanwhile the known facts about the murder of Don Delcasar remained few, +simple and unilluminating. About once a month the Don used to drive in his +automobile to his lands in the northern part of the State. He always took +the road across the _mesa_, which passed near the mouth of Domingo Canyon +and through the scissors pass, and he nearly always went alone. + +When he was half way across the _mesa_, the front tires of the Don’s car +had been punctured by nails driven through a board and hidden in the sand +of the road. Evidently the Don had risen to alight and investigate when he +had been shot, for his body had been found hanging across the wind-shield +of the car with a bullet hole through the head. + +The discovery of the body had been made by a Mexican woodcutter who was on +the way to town with a load of wood. He had of course been held by the +police and had been closely questioned, but it was easily established that +he had no connection with the crime. + +It was evident that the Don had been shot from ambush with a rifle, and +probably from a considerable distance, but absolutely no trace of the +assassin had been found. Not only the chief of police and several +patrolmen, and the sheriff with a posse, but also many private citizens in +automobiles had rushed to the scene of the crime and joined in the search. +The surrounding country was dry and rocky. Not even a track had been +found. + +The motive of the murder was evidently not robbery, for nothing had been +taken, although the Don carried a valuable watch and a considerable sum of +money. Indeed, there was no evidence that the murderer had even approached +the body. + +The Don had been a staunch Republican, and the _Morning Herald_, also +Republican, advanced the theory that he had been killed by political +enemies. This theory was ridiculed by the _Evening Journal_, which was +Democratic. + +The local police arrested as a suspect a man who was found in hiding near +a water tank at the railroad station, but no evidence against him could be +found and he had to be released. The sheriff extracted a confession of +guilt from a sheep herder who was found about ten miles from the scene of +the crime, but it was subsequently proved by this man’s relatives that he +was at home and asleep at the time the crime was committed, and that he +was well known to be of unsound mind. For some days the newspapers +continued daily to record the fact that a “diligent search” for the +murderer was being conducted, but this search gradually came to an end +along with public interest in the crime. + + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + + +The day after the news of his uncle’s murder reached him, Ramon lay on his +bed in his darkened room fully dressed in a new suit of black. He was not +ill, and anything would have been easier for him than to lie there with +nothing to do but to think and to stare at a single narrow sunbeam which +came through a rent in the window blind. But it was a Mexican custom, old +and revered, for the family of one recently dead to lie upon its beds in +the dark and so to receive the condolences of friends and the consolations +of religion. To disregard this custom would have been most unwise for an +ambitious young man, and besides, Ramon’s mother clung tenaciously to the +traditional Mexican ways, and she would not have tolerated any breach of +them. At this moment she and her two daughters were likewise lying in +their rooms, clad in new black silk and surrounded by other sorrowing +females. + +It was so still in the room that Ramon could hear the buzz of a fly in the +vicinity of the solitary sunbeam, but from other parts of the house came +occasional human sounds. One of these was an intermittent howling and +wailing from the _placita_. This he knew was the work of two old Mexican +women who made their livings by acting as professional mourners. They did +not wait for an invitation but hung about like buzzards wherever there was +a Mexican corpse. Seated on the ground with their black shawls pulled over +their heads, they wailed with astonishing endurance until the coffin was +carried from the house, when they were sure of receiving a substantial +gift from the grateful relatives. Ramon resolved that he would give them +ten dollars each. He felt sure they had never gotten so much. He was +determined to do handsomely in all things connected with the funeral. + +He could also hear faintly a rattle of wagons, foot steps and low human +voices coming from the front of the house. A peep had shown him that +already a line of wagons, carriages and buggies half a block long had +formed in the street, and he could hear the arrival of another one every +few minutes. These vehicles brought the numerous and poor relations of Don +Delcasar who lived in the country. All of them would be there by night. +Each one of them would come into Ramon’s room and sit by his bedside and +take his hand and express sympathy. Some of them would weep and some would +groan, although all of them, like himself, were profoundly glad that the +Don was dead. Ramon hoped that they would make their expressions brief. +And later, he knew, all would gather in the room where the casket rested +on two chairs. They would sit in a silent solemn circle about the room, +drinking coffee and wine all night. And he would be among them, trying +with all his might to look properly sad and to keep his eyes open. + +All the time that he lay there in enforced idleness he was longing for +action, his imagination straining forward. At last his chance had come—his +chance to have her. And he would have her. He felt sure of it. He was now +a rich man. As soon as the will had been read and he had come into his +own, he would buy a big automobile. He would go to her, he would sweep +away her doubts and hesitations. He would carry her away and marry her. +She would be his.… He closed his eyes and drew his breath in sharply.… + +But no; he would have to wait … a decent interval. And the five thousand +dollars must be gotten to Archulera. That was obviously important. And +there might not be much cash. The Don had never had much ready money. He +might have to sell land or sheep first. All of these things to be done, +and here he lay, staring at the ceiling and listening to the wailing of +old women! + +There was a knock on the door. + +“_Entra!_” he called. + +The door opened softly and a tall, black-robed figure was silhouetted for +a moment against the daylight before the door closed again. The black +figure crossed the room and sat down by the bed, silent save for a faint +rustle. + +Although he could not see the face, Ramon knew that this was the priest, +Father Lugaria. He knew that Father Lugaria had come to arrange for the +mass over the body of Don Delcasar. He disliked Father Lugaria, and knew +that the Father disliked him. This mutual antipathy was due to the fact +that Ramon seldom went to Church. + +There were others of his generation who showed the same indifference +toward religion, and this defection of youth was a thing which the Priests +bitterly contested. Ramon was perfectly willing to make a polite +compromise with them. If Father Lugaria had been satisfied with an +occasional appearance at early mass, a perfunctory confession now and +then, the two might have been friends. But the Priest made Ramon a special +object of his attention. He continually went to the Dona Delcasar with +complaints and that devout woman incessantly nagged her son, holding +before him always pictures of the damnation he was courting. Once in a +while she even produced in him a faint twinge of fear—a recrudescence of +the deep religious feeling in which he was bred—but the feeling was +evanescent. The chief result of these labours on behalf of his soul had +been to turn him strongly against the priest who instigated them. + +Father Lugaria seemed all kindness and sympathy now. He sat close beside +Ramon and took his hand. Ramon could smell the good wine on the man’s +breath, and could see faintly the brightness of his eyes. The grip of the +priest’s hand was strong, moist and surprisingly cold. He began to talk in +the low monotonous voice of one accustomed to much chanting, and this +droning seemed to have some hypnotic quality. It seemed to lull Ramon’s +mind so that he could not think what he was going to say or do. + +The priest expressed his sympathy. He spoke of the great and good man the +Don had been. Slowly, adroitly, he approached the real question at issue, +which was how much Ramon would pay for a mass. The more he paid, the +longer the mass would be, and the longer the mass the speedier would be +the journey of the Don’s soul through purgatory and into Paradise. + +“O, my little brother in Christ!” droned the priest in his vibrant +sing-song, “I must not let you neglect this last, this greatest of things +which you can do for the uncle you loved. It is unthinkable of course that +his soul should go to hell—hell, where a thousand demons torture the soul +for an eternity. Hell is for those who commit the worst of sins, sins they +dare not lay before God for his forgiveness, secret and terrible sins—sins +like murder. But few of us go through life untouched by sin. The soul must +be purified before it can enter the presence of its maker.… Doubtless the +soul of your uncle is in purgatory, and to you is given the sweet power to +speed that soul on its upward way.… + +“Don Delcasar, we all know, killed.… More than once, doubtless, he took +the life of a fellow man. But he did it in combat as a soldier, as a +servant of the State.… That is not murder. That would not doom him to +hell, which is the special punishment of secret and unforgiven murder.… +But the soul of the Don must be cleansed of these earthly stains.…” + +The strong, cold grip of the priest held Ramon with increasing power. The +monotonous, hypnotic voice went on and on, becoming ever more eloquent and +confident. Father Lugaria was a man of imagination, and the special home +of his imagination was hell. For thirty years he had held despotic sway +over the poor Mexicans who made up most of his flock, and had gathered +much money for the Church, by painting word-pictures of hell. He was a +veritable artist of hell. He loved hell. Again and again he digressed from +the strict line of his argument to speak of hell. With all the vividness +of a thing seen, he described its flames, its fiends, the terrible stink +of burning flesh and the vast chorus of agony that filled it.… And for +some obscure reason or purpose he always spoke of hell as the special +punishment of murderers. Again and again in his discourse he coupled +murder and hell. + +Ramon was wearied by strong emotions and a shortness of sleep. His nerves +were overstrung. This ceaseless iteration of hell and murder, murder and +hell would drive him crazy, he thought. He wished mightily that the priest +would have done and name his price and go. What was the sense and purpose +of this endless babble about hell and murder?… A sickening thought struck +him like a blow, leaving him weak. What if old Archulera had confessed to +the priest? + +Well; what if he had? A priest could not testify about what he had heard +in confessional. But a priest might tell some one else.… O, God! If the +man would only go and leave him to think. Hell and murder, murder and +hell. The two words beat upon his brain without mercy. He longed to +interrupt the priest and beg him to leave off. But for some reason he +could not. He could not even turn his head and look at the man. The priest +was but a clammy grip that held him and a disembodied voice that spoke of +hell and murder. Had he done murder? And was there a hell? He had long +ceased to believe in hell, but hell had been real to him as a child. His +mother and his nurse had filled him with the fear of hell. He had been +bred in the fear of hell. It was in his flesh and bones if not in his +mind, and the priest had hypnotized his mind. Hell was real to him again. +Fear of hell came up from the past which vanishes but is never gone, and +gripped him like a great ugly monster. It squeezed a cold sweat out of his +body and made his skin prickle and his breath come short.… + +The priest dropped the subject of hell, and spoke again of the mass. He +mentioned a sum of money. Ramon nodded his head muttering his assent like +a sick man. The grip on his hand relaxed. + +“Good-bye, my little brother,” murmured the priest. “May Christ be always +with you.” His gown rustled across the room and as he opened the door, +Ramon saw his face for a moment—a sallow, shrewd face, bedewed with the +sweat of a great effort, but wearing a smile of triumphant satisfaction. + +Ramon lay sick and exhausted. It seemed to him that there was no air in +the room. He was suffocating. His body burned and prickled. He rose and +tore loose his collar. He must get out of this place, must have air and +movement. + +It was dusk now. The wailing of the old women had ceased. Doubtless they +were being rewarded with supper. He began stripping off his clothes—his +white shirt and his new suit of black. Eagerly rummaging in the closet he +found his old clothes, which he wore on his trips to the mountains. + +In the dim light he slipped out of the house, indistinguishable from any +Mexican boy that might have been about the place. He saddled the little +mare in the corral, mounted and galloped away—through Old Town, where +skinny dogs roamed in dark narrow streets and men and women sat and smoked +in black doorways—and out upon the valley road. There he spurred his mare +without mercy, and they flew over the soft dust. The rush of the air in +his face, and the thud and quiver of living flesh under him were +infinitely sweet. + +He stopped at last five miles from town on the bank of the river. It was a +swift muddy river, wandering about in a flood plain a quarter of a mile +wide, and at this point chewing noisily at a low bank forested with +scrubby cottonwoods. + +Dismounting, he stripped and plunged into the river. It was only three +feet deep, but he wallowed about in it luxuriously, finding great comfort +in the caress of the cool water, and of the soft fine sand upon the bottom +which clung about his toes and tickled the soles of his feet. Then he +climbed out on the bank and stood where the breeze struck him, rubbing the +water off of his slim strong body with the flats of his hands. + +When he had put on his clothes, he indulged his love of lying flat on the +ground, puffing a cigarette and blowing smoke at the first stars. A +hunting owl flitted over his head on muffled wing; a coyote yapped in the +bushes; high up in the darkness he heard the whistle of pinions as a flock +of early ducks went by. + +He took the air deeply into his lungs and stretched out his legs. In this +place fear of hell departed from his mind as some strong liquors evaporate +when exposed to the open air. The splendid healthy animal in him was again +dominant, and it could scarcely conceive of death and had nothing more to +do with hell than had the owl and the coyote that killed to live. Here he +felt at peace with the earth beneath him and the sky above. But one +thought came to disturb him and it was also sweet—the thought of a woman, +her eyes full of promise, the curve of her mouth.… She was waiting for +him, she would be his. That was real.… Hell was a dream. + +He saw now the folly of his fears about Archulera, too. Archulera never +went to church. There was no danger that he would ever confess to any one. +And even if he did, he could scarcely injure Ramon. For Ramon had done no +wrong. He had but promised an old man his due, righted an ancient wrong.… +He smiled. + +Slowly he mounted and rode home, filled with thoughts of the girl, to put +on his mourning clothes and take his decorous place in the circle that +watched his uncle’s bier. + + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + + +All the ceremonies and procedures, religious and legal, which had been +made necessary by the death of Don Diego Delcasar, were done. The body of +the Don had been taken to the church in Old Town and placed before the +altar, the casket covered with black cloth and surrounded by candles in +tall silver candlesticks which stood upon the floor. A Mass of impressive +length had been spoken over it by Father Lugaria assisted by numerous +priests and altar boys, and at the end of the ceremony the hundreds of +friends and relatives of the Don, who filled the church, had lifted up +their voices in one of the loudest and most prolonged choruses of wailing +ever heard in that country, where wailing at a funeral is as much a matter +of formal custom as is cheering at a political convention. Afterwards a +cortege nearly a mile in length, headed by a long string of carriages and +tailed by a crowd of poor Mexicans trudging hatless in the dust, had made +the hot and wearisome journey to the cemetery in the sandhills. + +Then the will had been read and had revealed that Ramon Delcasar was heir +to the bulk of his uncle’s estate, and that he was thereby placed in +possession of money, lands and sheep to the value of about two hundred +thousand dollars. It was said by those who knew that the Don’s estate had +once been at least twice that large, and there were some who irreverently +remarked that he had been taken off none too soon for the best interests +of his heirs. + +Shortly after the reading of the will, Ramon rode to the Archulera ranch, +starting before daylight and returning after dark. He exchanged greetings +with the old man, just as he had always done. + +“Accept my sympathy, _amigo_,” Archulera said in his formal, polite way, +“that you have lost your uncle, the head of your great family.” + +“I thank you, friend,” Ramon replied. “A man must bear these things. Here +is something I promised you,” he added, laying a small heavy canvas bag +upon the table, just as he had always laid a package of tobacco or some +other small gift. + +Old Archulera nodded without looking at the bag. + +“Thank you,” he said. + +Afterward they talked about the bean crop and the weather, and had an +excellent dinner of goat meat cooked with chile. + +In town Ramon found himself a person of noticeably increased importance. +One of his first acts had been to buy a car, and he had attracted much +attention while driving this about the streets, learning to manipulate it. +He killed one chicken and two dogs and handsomely reimbursed their owners. +These minor accidents were due to his tendency, the result of many years +of horsemanship, to throw his weight back on the steering wheel and shout +“whoa!” whenever a sudden emergency occurred. But he was apt, and soon was +running his car like an expert. + +His personal appearance underwent a change too. He had long cherished a +barbaric leaning toward finery, which lack of money had prevented him from +indulging. Large diamonds fascinated him, and a leopard skin vest was a +thing he had always wanted to own. But these weaknesses he now rigorously +suppressed. Instead he noted carefully the dress of Gordon Roth and of +other easterners whom he saw about the hotel, and ordered from the best +local tailor a suit of quiet colour and conservative cut, but of the very +best English material. He bought no jewelry except a single small pearl +for his necktie. His hat, his shoes, the way he had his neck shaved, all +were changed as the result of a painstaking observation such as he had +never practised before. He wanted to make himself as much as possible like +the men of Julia’s kind and class. And this desire modified his manner and +speech as well as his appearance. He was careful, always watching himself. +His manner was more reserved and quiet than ever, and this made him appear +older and more serious. He smiled when he overheard a woman say that “he +took the death of his uncle much harder than she would have expected.” + +Ramon now received business propositions every day. Men tried to sell him +all sorts of things, from an idea to a ranch, and most of them seemed to +proceed on the assumption that, being young and newly come into his money, +he should part with it easily. Several of the opportunities offered him +had to do with the separation of the poor Mexicans from their land +holdings. A prominent attorney came all the way from a town in the +northern part of the State to lay before him a proposition of this kind. +This lawyer, named Cooley, explained that by opening a store in a certain +rich section of valley land, opportunities could be created for lending +the Mexicans money. Whenever there was a birth, a funeral or a marriage +among them, the Mexicans needed money, and could be persuaded to sign +mortgages, which they generally could not read. In each Mexican family +there would be either a birth, a marriage or a death once in three years +on an average. Three such events would enable the lender to gain +possession of a ranch. And Cooley had an eastern client who would then buy +the land at a good figure. It was a chance for Ramon to double his money. + +“You’ve got the money and you know the native people,” Cooley argued +earnestly. “I’ve got the sucker and I know the law. It’s a sure thing.” + +Ramon thanked him politely and refused firmly. The idea of robbing a poor +Mexican of his ranch by nine years of usury did not appeal to him at all. +In the first place, it would be a long, slow tedious job, and besides, +poor people always aroused his pity, just as rich ones stirred his greed +and envy. He was predatory, but lion-like, he scorned to spring on small +game. He did not realize that a lion often starves where a jackal grows +fat. + +Only one opportunity came to him which interested him strongly. A young +Irishman named Hurley explained to him that it was possible to buy mules +in Mexico, where a revolution was going on, for ten dollars each at +considerable personal risk, to run them across the Rio Grande and to sell +them to the United States army for twenty dollars. Here was a gambler’s +chance, action and adventure. It caught his fancy and tempted him. But he +had no thought of yielding. Another purpose engrossed him. + +These weeks after his uncle’s funeral gave him his first real grapple with +the world of business, and the experience tended to strengthen him in a +certain cynical self-assurance which had been growing in him ever since he +first went away to college, and had met its first test in action when he +spoke the words that lead to the Don’s death. He felt a deep contempt for +most of these men who came to him with their schemes and their wares. He +saw that most of them were ready enough to swindle him, though few of them +would have had the courage to rob him with a gun. Probably not one of them +would have dared to kill a man for money, but they were ready enough to +cheat a poor _pelado_ out of his living, which often came to the same +thing. He felt that he was bigger than most of them, if not better. His +self-respect was strengthened. + +“Life is a fight,” he told himself, feeling that he had hit upon a +profound and original idea. “Every man wants pretty women and money. He +gets them if he has enough nerve and enough sense. And somebody else gets +hurt, because there aren’t enough pretty women and money to go around.” + +It seemed to him that this was the essence of all wisdom. + + + + + + CHAPTER XV + + +Ramon had always been rather a solitary figure in his own town. Although +he belonged nominally to the “bunch” of young gringos, Jews and Mexicans, +who foregathered at the White Camel Pool Hall, their amusements did not +hold his interest very strongly. They played a picayune game of poker, +which resulted in a tangled mass of debt; they went on occasional mild +sprees, and on Saturday nights they visited the town’s red light district, +hardy survivor of several vice crusades, where they danced with portly +magdalenes in gaudy kimonos to the music of a mechanical piano, +luxuriating in conscious wickedness. + +All of this had seemed romantic and delightfully vicious to Ramon a few +years before, but it soon palled on his restless and discontented spirit. +He had formed the habit of hunting alone, and had found adventures more to +his taste. But now he found himself in company more than ever before. He +was bid to every frolic that took place. In the White Camel he was often +the centre of a small group, which included men older than himself who had +never paid any attention to him before, but now addressed him with a +certain deference. Although he understood well enough that most of the +attentions paid him had an interested motive, he enjoyed the sense of +leadership which these gatherings gave him. If he was not a real leader +now, he intended to become one. He listened to what men said, watched +them, and said little himself. He was quick to grasp the fact that a +reputation for shrewdness and wisdom is made by the simple method of +keeping the mouth shut. + +He made many acquaintances among the new element which had recently come +to town from the East in search of health or money, but he made no real +friends because none of these men inspired him with respect. Only one man +he attached to himself, and that one by the simple tie of money. His name +was Antonio Cortez. He was a small, skinny, sallow Mexican with a great +moustache, behind which he seemed to be discreetly hiding, and a +consciously cunning eye. Of an old and once wealthy Spanish family, he had +lost all of his money by reason of a lack of aptitude for business, and +made his living as a sort of professional political henchman. He was a +bearer of secret messages, a maker of deals, an eavesdropper. The Latin +aptitude for intrigue he had in a high degree. He was capable of almost +anything in the way of falsehood or evasion, but he had that great +capacity for loyalty which is so often the virtue of weaklings. + +“I have known your family for many years,” he told Ramon importantly, “And +I feel an interest in you, almost as though you were my own son. You need +an older friend to advise you, to attend to details in the management of +your great estate. You will probably go into politics and you need a +political manager. As an old friend of your family I want to do these +things for you. What do you say?” + +Ramon answered without any hesitation and prompted solely by intuition: + +“I thank you, friend, and I accept your offer.” + +He knew instinctively that he could trust this man and also dominate him. +It was just such a follower that he needed. Nothing was said about money, +but on the first of the month Ramon mailed Cortez a check for a hundred +dollars, and that became his regular salary. + + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + + +About two weeks after the Don’s funeral, Ramon received a summons which he +had been vaguely expecting. He was asked by Mr. MacDougall’s secretary +over the telephone to call, whenever it would be convenient, at Mr. +MacDougall’s office. + +He knew just what this meant. MacDougall would try to make with him an +arrangement somewhat similar to the one he had had with the Don. Ramon +knew that he did not want such an arrangement on any terms. He felt +confident that not one could swindle him, but at the same time he was half +afraid of the Scotchman; he felt instinctively that MacDougall was a man +for him to avoid. And besides, he intended to use his lands in his own +way. He would sell part of them to the railroad, which was projected to be +built through them, if he could get a good price; but the hunger for +owning land, for dominating a part of the earth, was as much a part of him +as his right hand. He wanted no modern business partnership. He wanted to +be _“__el patron,__”_ as so many Delcasars had been before him. + +Here was a temptation to be dramatic, to hurl a picturesque defiance at +the gringo. Ramon might have yielded to it a few months before. Sundry +brave speeches flashed through his mind, as it was. But he resolutely put +them aside. There was too much at stake … his love. He determined to call +on MacDougall promptly and to be polite. + +MacDougall was a heavy, bald man of Scotch descent, and very true to type. +He had come to town from the East about fifteen years before with his wife +and his two tall, raw-boned children—a boy and a girl. The family had been +very poor. They had lived in a small _adobe_ house on the _mesa_. For ten +years Mrs. MacDougall had done all of her own housework, including the +washing; the two children had gone to school in clothes that seemed always +too small for them; and MacDougall had laboured obscurely day and night in +a small dark office. During these ten years the MacDougalls had been +completely overlooked by local society, and if they felt any resentment +they did not show it. + +Meantime MacDougall had been systematically and laboriously laying the +foundations of a fortune. His passion was for land. He loaned money on +land, chiefly to Mexicans, and he took mortgages on land in return for +defending his Mexican clients, largely on criminal charges. Some of the +land he farmed, and some he rented, but much of it lay idle, and the taxes +he had to pay kept his family poor long after it might have been +comfortable. But his lands rose steadily in value; he began selling, +discreetly; and the MacDougalls came magnificently into their own. +MacDougall was now one of the wealthiest men in the State. In five years +his way of living had undergone a great change. He owned a large brick +house in the highlands and had several servants. The boy had gone to +Harvard, and the girl to Vassar. Neither of them was so gawky now, and +both of them were much sought socially during their vacations at home. +MacDougall himself had undergone a marked change for a man past fifty. He +had become a stylish dresser and looked younger. He drove to work in a +large car with a chauffeur. In the early morning he went riding on the +_mesa_, mounted on a big Kentucky fox-trotter, clad in English riding +clothes, jouncing solemnly up and down on his flat saddle, and followed by +a couple of carefully-laundered white poodles. On these expeditions he was +a source of great edification and some amusement to the natives. + +In the town he was a man of weight and influence, but the country Mexicans +hated him. Once when he was looking over some lands recently acquired by +the foreclosure of mortgages, a bullet had whistled close to his ear, and +another had punctured the hood of his car. He now hired a man to do his +“outside work.” + +Thus both MacDougall and his children had thrived and developed on their +wealth. Mrs. MacDougall, perhaps, had been the sacrifice. She remained a +tall, thin, pale, tired-looking woman with large hands that were a record +of toil. She laboured at her new social duties and “pleasures” in exactly +the same spirit that she had formerly laboured at the wash tub. + +MacDougall’s offices now occupied all of the ground floor of a large new +building which he had built. Like everything else of his authorship this +building represented a determined effort to lend the town an air of +Eastern elegance. It was finished in an imitation of white marble and the +offices had large plate glass windows which bore in gilt letters the +legend: “MacDougall Land and Cattle Company, Inc.” Within, half a dozen +girls in glass cages could be seen working at typewriters and adding +machines, while a cashier occupied a little office of his own with a large +safe at his back, a little brass grating in front of him, and a revolver +visible not far from his right hand. + +The creator of this magnificence sat behind a glasstop desk at the far end +of a large and sunny office with a bare and slippery floor. Many a Mexican +beggar for mercy, with a mortgage on his home, had walked across this +forbidding expanse of polished hardwood toward the big man with the +merciless eye, as fearfully as ever a _peon_, sentenced to forty lashes +and salt in his wounds, approached the seat of his owner to plead for a +whole skin. Truly, the weak can but change masters. + +This morning MacDougall was all affability. As he stood up behind his +desk, clad in a light grey suit, large and ruddy, radiant of health and +prosperity, he was impressive, almost splendid. Only the eyes, small and +closeset, revealed the worried and calculating spirit of the man. + +“Mr. Delcasar,” he said when they had shaken hands and sat down, “I am +glad to welcome you to this office, and I hope to see you here many times +more. I will not waste time, for we are both busy men. I asked you to come +here because I want to suggest a sort of informal partnership between us, +such as I had with your late uncle, one of my best friends. I believe my +plan will be for the best interests of both of us.… I suppose you know +about what the arrangement was between the Don and myself?” + +“No; not in detail,” Ramon confessed. He felt MacDougall’s power at once. +Facing the man was a different matter from planning an interview with him +when alone. But he retained sense enough to let MacDougall do the talking. + +“Have a cigar,” the great man continued, full of sweetness, pushing a +large and fragrant box of perfectos across the desk. “I will outline the +situation to you briefly, as I see it.” Nothing could have seemed more +frank and friendly than his manner. + +“As you doubtless know,” he went on, “your estate includes a large area of +mountain and _mesa_ land—a little more than nine thousand acres I +believe—north and west of the San Antonio River in Arriba County. I own +nearly as much land on the east side of the river. The valley itself is +owned by a number of natives in small farming tracts. + +“I believe your estate also includes a few small parcels of land in the +valley, but not enough, you understand, to be of much value by itself. +Your uncle also owned a few tracts in the valley east of the river which +he transferred to me, for a consideration, because they abutted upon my +holdings. + +“Now the valley, as I scarcely need tell you, is the key to the situation. +In the first place, if the country is to be properly developed as sheep +and cattle range, the valley will furnish the farming land upon which hay +for winter use can be raised, and it also furnishes some good winter +range. Moreover, it is now an open secret that the Denver and Rio Grande +Railroad proposes building a branch line through that country and into the +San Juan Valley. No surveys have been made, but it is certain that the +road must follow the San Antonio to the top of the divide. There is no +other way through. I became aware of this project some time ago through my +eastern connections, and told your uncle about it. He and I joined forces +for the purpose of gaining control of the San Antonio Valley, and of the +railroad right-of-way. + +“The proposition is a singularly attractive one. Not only could the +right-of-way be sold for a very large sum, but we would afterward own a +splendid bit of cattle range, with farming land in the valley, and with a +railroad running through the centre of it. There is nothing less than a +fortune to be made in the San Antonio Valley, Mr. Delcasar. + +“And the lands in the valley can be acquired. Some of the small owners +will sell outright. Furthermore, they are all frequently in need of money, +especially during dry years when the crops are not good. By advancing +loans judiciously, and taking land as security, title can often be +acquired.… I daresay you are not wholly unfamiliar with the method. + +“This work, Mr. Delcasar, requires large capital, which I can command. It +also requires certain things which you have in an unusual degree. You are +of Spanish descent, you speak the language fluently. You have political +and family prestige among the natives. All of this will be of great +service in persuading the natives to sell, and in getting the necessary +information about land titles, which, as you know, requires much research +in old Spanish Church records and much interviewing of the natives +themselves. + +“In the actual making of purchases, my name need not appear. In fact, I +think it is very desirable that it should not appear. But understand that +I will furnish absolutely all of the capital for the enterprise. I am +offering you, Mr. Delcasar, an opportunity to make a fortune without +investing a cent, and I feel that I can count upon your acceptance.” + +At the close of this discourse, Ramon felt like a surf-bather who has been +overwhelmed by a great and sudden wave and comes up gasping for breath and +struggling for a foothold. Never had he heard anything so brilliantly +plausible, for never before had he come into contact with a good mind in +full action. Yet he regained his balance in a moment. He was accustomed to +act by intuition, not by logic, and his intuition was all against +accepting MacDougall’s offer. He was not deceived by the Scotchman’s show +of friendship and beneficence; he himself had an aptitude for pretence, +and he understood it better than he would have understood sincerity. He +knew that whether he formed this partnership or not, there was sure to be +a struggle between him and MacDougall for the dominance of the San Antonio +Valley. And his instinct was to stand free and fight; not to come to +grips, MacDougall was a stronger man than he. The one advantage which he +had—his influence over the natives—he must keep in his own hands, and not +let his adversary turn it against him. + +He took his cigar out of his mouth, looked at it a moment, and cleared his +throat. + +“Mr. MacDougall,” he said slowly, “this offer makes me proud. That you +should have so much confidence in me as to wish to make me your partner is +most gratifying. I am sorry that I must refuse. I have other plans.…” + +MacDougall nodded, interrupting. This was evidently a contingency he had +calculated. + +“I’m sorry, Mr. Delcasar. I had hoped to be permanently associated with +you in this venture. But I think I understand. You are young. Perhaps +marriage, a home are your immediate objects, and you need cash at once, +rather than a somewhat distant prospect of greater wealth. In that case I +think I can meet your wishes. I am prepared to make you a good offer for +all of your holdings in the valley, and those immediately adjoining it. +The exact amount I cannot state at this moment, but I feel sure we could +agree as to price.” + +Ramon was taken aback by the promptness of the counter, confused, forced +to think. Money was a thing he wanted badly. He had little cash. If +MacDougall would give him fifty thousand, he could go with Julia anywhere. +He would be free. But again the inward prompting, sure and imperative, +said no. He wanted the girl above all things. But he wanted land, too. His +was the large and confident greed of youth. And he could have the girl +without making this concession. MacDougall wanted to take the best of his +land and push him out of the game as a weakling, a negligible. He wouldn’t +submit. He would fight, and in his own way. What he wanted now was to end +the interview, to get away from this battering, formidable opponent. He +rose. + +“I will think it over, Mr. MacDougall,” he said. “And meantime, if you +will send me an offer in writing, I will appreciate it.” + +Some of the affability faded from MacDougall’s face as he too rose, and +the worried look in his little grey eyes intensified, as though he sensed +the fact that this was an evasion. None-the-less he said good-bye +cordially and promised to write the letter. + +Ramon went back to his office, his mind stimulated, working intensely. +Never before had he thought so clearly and purposefully. He got out an old +government map of Arriba County, and with the aid of the deeds in the safe +which contained all his uncle’s important papers, he managed to mark off +his holdings. The whole situation became as clear to him as a checker +game. He owned a bit of land in the valley which ran all the way across +it, and far out upon the _mesa_ in a long narrow strip. That was the way +land holdings were always divided under the Spanish law—into strips a few +hundred feet wide, and sometimes as much as fourteen miles long. This +strip would in all probability be vital to the proposed right-of-way. It +explained MacDougall’s eagerness to take him as a partner or else to buy +him out. By holding it, he would hold the key to the situation. + +In order really to dominate the country and to make his property grow in +value he would have to own more of the valley. And he could not get money +enough to buy except very slowly. But he could use his influence with the +natives to prevent MacDougall from buying. MacDougall was a gringo. The +Mexicans hated him. He had been shot at. Ramon could “preach the race +issue,” as the politicians put it. + +The important thing was to strengthen and assert his influence as a +Mexican and a Delcasar. He must go to Arriba County, open the old ranch +house he owned there, go among the people. He must gain a real ascendency. +He knew how to do it. It was his birthright. He was full of fight and +ambition, confident, elated. The way was clear before him. Tomorrow he +would go to Julia. + + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + + +He had received a note of sympathy from her soon after his uncle’s death +and he had called at the Roths’ once, but had found several other callers +there and no opportunity of being alone with her. Then she had gone away +on a two-weeks, automobile trip to the Mesa Verde National Park, so that +he had seen practically nothing of her. But all of this time he had been +thinking of her more confidently than ever before. He was rich now, he was +strong. All of the preliminaries had been finished. He could go to her and +claim her. + +He called her on the telephone from his office, and the Mexican maid +answered. She would see if Miss Roth was in. After a long wait she +reported that Miss Roth was out. He tried again that day, and a third time +the next morning with a like result. + +This filled him with anxious, angry bewilderment. He felt sure she had not +really been out all three times. Were her mother and brother keeping his +message from her? Or had something turned her against him? He remembered +with a keen pang of anxiety, for the first time, the insinuations of +Father Lugaria. Could that miserable rumour have reached her? He had no +idea how she would have taken it if it had. He really did not know or +understand this girl at all; he merely loved her and desired her with a +desire which had become the ruling necessity of his life. To him she was a +being of a different sort, from a different world—a mystery. They had +nothing in common but a rebellious discontent with life, and this +glamorous bewildering thing, so much stronger than they, so far beyond +their comprehension, which they called their love. + +That was the one thing he knew and counted on. He knew how imperiously it +drove him, and he knew that she had felt its power too. He had seen it +shine in her eyes, part her lips; he had heard it in her voice, and felt +it tremble in her body. If only he could get to her this potent thing +would carry them to its purpose through all barriers. + +Angry and resolute, he set himself to a systematic campaign of +telephoning. At last she answered. Her voice was level, quiet, weary. + +“But I have an engagement for tonight,” she told him. + +“Then let me come tomorrow,” he urged. + +“No; I can’t do that. Mother is having some people to dinner.…” + +At last he begged her to set a date, but she refused, declared that her +plans were unfixed, told him to call “some other time.” + +His touchy pride rebelled now. He cursed these gringos. He hated them. He +wished for the power to leave her alone, to humble her by neglect. But he +knew that he did have it. Instead he waited a few days and then drove to +the house in his car, having first carefully ascertained by watching that +she was at home. + +All three of them received him in their sitting room, which they called +the library. It was an attractive room, sunny and tastefully furnished, +with a couple of book cases filled with new-looking books in sets, a +silver tea service on a little wheeled table, flowers that matched the +wall paper, and a heavy mahogany table strewn with a not-too-disorderly +array of magazines and paper knives. It was the envy of the local women +with social aspirations because it looked elegant and yet comfortable. + +Conversation was slow and painful. Mrs. Roth and her son were icily +formal, confining themselves to the most commonplace remarks. And Julia +did not help him, as she had on his first visit. She looked pale and tired +and carefully avoided his eyes. + +When he had been there about half an hour, Mrs. Roth turned to her +daughter. + +“Julia,” she said, “If we are going to get to Mrs. MacDougall’s at +half-past four you must go and get ready. You will excuse her, won’t you +Mr. Delcasar?” + +The girl obediently went up stairs without shaking hands, and a few +minutes later Ramon went away, feeling more of misery and less of +self-confidence than ever before in his life. + +He almost wholly neglected his work. Cortez brought him a report that +MacDougall had a new agent, who was working actively in Arriba County, but +he paid no attention to it. His life seemed to have lost purpose and +interest. For the first time he doubted her love. For the first time he +really feared that he would lose her. + +Most of his leisure was spent riding or walking about the streets, in the +hope of catching a glimpse of her. He passed her house as often as he +dared, and studied her movements. When he saw her in the distance he felt +an acute thrill of mingled hope and misery. Only once did he meet her +fairly, walking with her brother, and then she either failed to see him or +pretended not to. + +One afternoon about five o’clock he left his office and started home in +his car. A storm was piling up rapidly in big black clouds that rose from +behind the eastern mountains like giants peering from ambush. It was +sultry; there were loud peals of thunder and long crooked flashes of +lightning. At this season of late summer the weather staged such a +portentous display almost every afternoon, and it rained heavily in the +mountains; but the showers only reached the thirsty _mesa_ and valley +lands about one day in four. + +Ramon drove home slowly, gloomily wondering whether it would rain and +hoping that it would. A Southwesterner is always hoping for rain, and in +his present mood the rush and beat of a storm would have been especially +welcome. + +His hopes were soon fulfilled. There was a cold blast of wind, carrying a +few big drops, and then a sudden, drumming downpour that tore up the dust +of the street and swiftly converted it into a sea of mud cut by yellow +rivulets. + +As his car roared down the empty street, he glimpsed a woman standing in +the shelter of a big cottonwood tree, cowering against its trunk. A quick +thrill shot through his body. He jammed down the brake so suddenly that +his car skidded and sloughed around. He carefully turned and brought up at +the curb. + +She started at sight of him as he ran across the side-walk toward her. + +“Come on quick!” he commanded, taking her by the arm, “I’ll get you home.” +Before she had time to say anything he had her in the car, and they were +driving toward the Roth house. By the time they had reached it the first +strength of the shower was spent, and there was only a light scattering +rain with a rift showing in the clouds over the mountains. + +He deliberately passed the house, putting on more speed as he did so. + +“But … I thought you were going to take me home,” she said, putting a hand +on his arm. + +“I’m not,” he announced, without looking around. His hands and eyes were +fully occupied with his driving, but a great suspense held his breath. The +hand left his arm, and he heard her settle back in her seat with a sigh. A +great warm wave of joy surged through him. + +He took the mountain road, which was a short cut between Old Town and the +mountains, seldom used except by wood wagons. Within ten minutes they were +speeding across the _mesa_. The rain was over and the clouds running +across the sky in tatters before a fresh west wind. Before them the +rolling grey-green waste of the _mesa_, spotted and veined with silver +waters, reached to the blue rim of the mountains—empty and free as an +undiscovered world. + +He slowed his car to ten miles an hour and leaned back, steering with one +hand. The other fell upon hers, and closed over it. For a time they drove +along in silence, conscious only of that electrical contact, and of the +wind playing in their faces and the soft rhythmical hum of the great +engine. + +At the crest of a rise he stopped the car and stood up, looking all about +at the vast quiet wilderness, filling his lungs with air. He liked that +serene emptiness. He had always felt at peace with these still desolate +lands that had been the background of most of his life. Now, with the +consciousness of the woman beside him, they filled him with a sort of +rapture, an ecstasy of reverence that had come down to him perhaps from +savage forebears who had worshipped the Earth Mother with love and awe. + +He dropped down beside her again and without hesitation gathered her into +his arms. After a moment he held her a little away from him and looked +into her eyes. + +“Why wouldn’t you let me come to see you? Why did you treat me that way?” +he plead. + +She dropped her eyes. + +“They made me.” + +“But why? Because I’m a Mexican? And does that make any difference to +you?” + +“O, I can’t tell you.… They say awful things about you. I don’t believe +them. No; nothing about you makes any difference to me.” + +He held her close again. + +“Then you’ll go away with me?” + +“Yes,” she answered slowly, nodding her head. “I’ll go anywhere with you.” + +“Now!” he demanded. “Will you go now? We can drive through Scissors Pass +to Abol on the Southeastern and take a train to Denver.…” + +“O, no, not now,” she plead. “Please not now.… I can’t go like this.…” + +“Yes; now,” he urged. “We’ll never have a better chance.…” + +“I beg you, if you love me, don’t make me go now. I must think … and get +ready.… Why I haven’t even got any powder for my nose.” + +They both laughed. The tension was broken. They were happy. + +“Give me a little while to get ready,” she proposed, “and I’ll go when you +say.” + +“You promise?” + +“Cross my heart.… On my life and honour. Please take me home now, so they +won’t suspect anything. If only nobody sees us! Please hurry. It’ll be +dark pretty soon. You can write to me. It’s so lonely out here!” + +He turned his car and drove slowly townward, his free hand seeking hers +again. It was dusk when they reached the streets. Stopping his car in the +shadow of a tree, he kissed her and helped her out. + +He sat still and watched her out of sight. A tinge of sadness and regret +crept into his mind, and as he drove homeward it grew into an active +discontent with himself. Why had he let her go? True, he had proved her +love, but now she was to be captured all over again. He ought to have +taken her. He had been a fool. She would have gone. She had begged him not +to take her, but if he had insisted, she would have gone. He had been a +fool! + + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + + +The second morning after this ride, while he was labouring over a note to +the girl, he was amazed to get one from her postmarked at Lorietta, a +station a hundred miles north of town at the foot of the Mora Mountains, +in which many of the town people spent their summer vacations. It was a +small square missive, exhaling a faint scent of lavender, and was simple +and direct as a telegram. + +“We have gone to the Valley Ranch for a month,” she wrote. “We had not +intended to go until August, but there was a sudden change of plans. +Somebody saw you and me yesterday. I had an awful time. Please don’t try +to see me or write to me while we’re here. It will be best for us. I’ll be +back soon. I love you.” + +He sat glumly thinking over this letter for a long time. The +disappointment of learning that he would not see her for a month was bad +enough, but it was not the worst thing about this sudden development. For +this made him realize what alert and active opposition he faced on the +part of her mother and brother. Their dislike for him had been made +manifest again and again, but he had supposed that Julia was successfully +deceiving them as to his true relations with her. He had thought that he +was regarded merely as an undesirable acquaintance; but if they were +changing their plans because of him, taking the girl out of his reach, +they must have guessed the true state of affairs. And for all that he +knew, they might leave the country at any time. His heart seemed to give a +sharp twist in his body at this thought. He must take her as soon as she +returned to town. He could not afford to miss another chance. And meantime +his affairs must be gotten in order. + +He had been neglecting his new responsibilities, and there was an +astonishing number of things to be done—debts to be paid, tax assessments +to be protested, men to be hired for the sheep-shearing. His uncle had +left his affairs at loose ends, and on all hands were men bent on taking +advantage of the fact. But he knew the law; he had known from childhood +the business of raising sheep on the open range which was the backbone of +his fortune; and he was held in a straight course by the determination to +keep his resources together so that they would strengthen him in his +purpose. + +A few weeks before, he had sent Cortez to Arriba County to attend to some +minor matters there, and incidentally to learn if possible what MacDougall +was doing. Cortez had spent a large part of his time talking with the +Mexicans in the San Antonio Valley, eavesdropping on conversations in +little country stores, making friends, and asking discreet questions at +_bailes_ and _fiestas_. + +“Well; how goes it up there?” Ramon asked him when he came to the office +to make his report. + +“It looks bad enough,” Cortez replied lighting with evident satisfaction +the big cigar his patron had given him. “MacDougall has men working there +all the time. He bought a small ranch on the edge of the valley just the +other day. He is not making very fast progress, but he’ll own the valley +in time if we don’t stop him.” + +“But who is doing the work? Who is his agent?” Ramon enquired. + +“Old Solomon Alfego, for one. He’s boss of the county, you know. He hates +a gringo as much as any man alive, but he loves a dollar, too, and +MacDougall has bought him, I’m afraid. I think MacDougall is lending money +through him, getting mortgages on ranches that way.” + +“Well; what do you think we had better do?” Ramon enquired. The situation +looked bad on its face, but he could see that Cortez had a plan. + +“Just one thing I thought of,” the little man answered slowly. “We have +got to get Alfego on our side. If we can do that, we can keep out +MacDougall and everybody else … buy when we get ready. We couldn’t pay +Alfego much, but we could let him in on the railroad deal … something +MacDougall won’t do. And Alfego, you know, is a _penitente_. He’s _hermano +mayor_ (chief brother) up there. And all those little _rancheros_ are +_penitentes_. It’s the strongest _penitente_ county in the State, and you +know none of the _penitentes_ like gringos. None of those fellows like +MacDougall; they’re all afraid of him. All they like is his money. You +haven’t so much money, but you could spend some. You could give a few +_bailes_. You are Mexican; your family is well-known. If you were a +_penitente_, too.…” + +Cortez left his sentence hanging in the air. He nodded his head slowly, +his cigar cocked at a knowing angle, looking at Ramon through narrowed +lids. + +Ramon sat looking straight before him for a moment. He saw in imagination +a procession of men trudging half-naked in the raw March weather, their +backs gashed so that blood ran down to their heels, beating themselves and +each other.… The _penitentes_! Other men, even gringos, had risen to power +by joining the order. Why not he? It would give him just the prestige and +standing he needed in that country. He would lose a little blood. He would +win … everything! + +“You are right, _amigo_,” he told Cortez. “But do you think it can be +arranged?” + +“I have talked to Alfego about it,” Cortez admitted. “I think it can be +arranged.” + + + + + + CHAPTER XIX + + +He was all ready to leave for Arriba County when one more black mischance +came to bedevil him. Cortez came into the office with a worried look in +his usually unrevealing eyes. + +“There’s a woman in town looking for you,” he announced. “A Mexican girl +from the country. She was asking everybody she met where to find you. You +ought to be more careful. I took her to my house and promised I would +bring you right away.” + +Cortez lived in a little square box of a brick cottage, which he had been +buying slowly for the past ten years and would probably never own. In its +parlour, gaudy with cheap, new furniture, Ramon confronted Catalina +Archulera. She was clad in a dirty calico dress, and her shoes were +covered with the dust of long tramping, as was the black shawl about her +head and shoulders. Once he had thought her pretty, but now she looked to +him about as attractive as a clod of earth. + +She stood before him with downcast eyes, speechless with misery and +embarassment. At first he was utterly puzzled as to what could have +brought her there. Then with a queer mixture of anger and pity and +disgust, he noticed the swollen bulk of her healthy young body. + +“Catalina! Why did you come here?” he blurted, all his self-possession +gone for a moment. + +“My father sent me,” she replied, as simply as though that were an +all-sufficient explanation. + +“But why did you tell him … it was I? Why didn’t you come to me first?” + +“He made me tell,” Catalina rolled back her sleeve and showed some blue +bruises. “He beat me,” she explained without emotion. + +“What did he tell you to say?” + +“He told me to come to you and show you how I am.… That is all.” + +Ramon swore aloud with a break in his voice. For a long moment he stood +looking at her, bewildered, disgusted. It somehow seemed to him utterly +wrong, utterly unfair that this thing should have happened, and above all +that it should have happened now. He had taken other girls, as had every +other man, but never before had any such hard luck as this befallen him. +And now, of all times! + +In Catalina he felt not the faintest interest. Before him was the proof +that once he had desired her. Now that desire had vanished as completely +as his childhood. + +And she was Archulera’s daughter. That was the hell of it! Archulera was +the one man of all men whom he could least afford to offend. And he knew +just how hard to appease the old man would be. For among the Mexicans, +seduction is a crime which, in theory and often in practice, can be atoned +only by marriage or by the shedding of blood. Marriage is the door to +freedom for the women, but virginity is a thing greatly revered and +carefully guarded. The unmarried girl is always watched, often locked up, +and he who appropriates her to his own purpose is violating a sacred right +and offending her whole family. + +In the towns, all this has been somewhat changed, as the customs of any +country suffer change in towns. But old Archulera, living in his lonely +canyon, proud of his high lineage, would be the hardest of men to appease. +And meantime, what was to be done with the girl? + +It was this problem which brought his wits back to him. A plan began to +form in his mind. He saw that in sending her to him Archulera had really +played into his hands. The important thing now was to keep her away from +her father. He looked at her again, and the pity which he always felt for +weaklings welled up in him. He knew many Mexican ranches in the valley +where he could keep her in comfort for a small amount. That would serve a +double purpose. The old man would be kept in ignorance as to what Ramon +intended, and the girl would be saved from further punishment. Meantime, +he could send Cortez to see Archulera and find out what money would do. + +The whole affair was big with potential damage to him. Some of his enemies +might find out about it and make a scandal. Archulera might come around in +an ugly mood and make trouble. The girl might run away and come to town +again. And yet, now that he had a plan, he was all confidence. + +Cortez kept Catalina at his house while Ramon drove forty miles up the +valley and made arrangements with a Mexican who lived in an isolated +place, to care for her for an indefinite period. When he took Catalina +there, he told her on the way simply that she was to wait until he came +for her, and above all, that she must not try to communicate with her +father. The girl nodded, looking at him gravely with her large soft eyes. +Her lot had always been to obey, to bear burdens and to suffer. The stuff +of rebellion and of self-assertion was not in her, but she could endure +misfortune with the stoical indifference of a savage. Indeed, she was in +all essentials simply a squaw. During the ride to her new home she seemed +more interested in the novel sensation of travelling at thirty miles an +hour than in her own future. She clung to the side of the car with both +hands, and her face reflected a pathetic mingling of fear and delight. + +The house of Nestor Gomez to which Ramon took her was prettily set in a +grove of cottonwoods, with white hollyhocks blooming on either side of the +door, and strings of red chile hanging from the rafter-ends to dry. Half a +dozen small children played about the door, the younger ones naked and all +of them deep in dirt. A hen led her brood of chicks into the house on a +foray for crumbs, and in the shade of the wall a mongrel bitch luxuriously +gave teat to four pups. Bees humming about the hollyhocks bathed the scene +in sleepy sound. + +Catalina, utterly unembarassed, shook hands with her host and hostess in +the limp, brief way of the Mexicans, and then, while Ramon talked with +them, sat down in the shade, shook loose her heavy black hair and began to +comb it. A little half-naked urchin of three years came and stood before +her. She stopped combing to place her hands on his shoulders, and the two +regarded each other long and intently, while Catalina’s mouth framed a +smile of dull wonder. + +As Ramon drove back to town, he marvelled that he should ever have desired +this clod of a woman; but he was grateful to her for the bovine calm with +which she accepted things. He would visit her once in a while. He felt +pretty sure that he could count on her not to make trouble. + +Afterward he discussed the situation with Cortez. The latter was worried. + +“You better look out,” he counselled. “You better send him a message you +are going to marry her. That will keep him quiet for a while. When he gets +over being mad, maybe you can make him take a thousand dollars instead.” + +Ramon shook his head. If he gave Archulera to understand that he would +marry the girl, word of it might get to town. + +“He’ll never find her,” he said confidently. “I’ll do nothing unless he +comes to me.” + +“I don’t know,” Cortez replied doubtfully. “Is he a _penitente_?” + +“Yes; I think he is,” Ramon admitted. + +“Then maybe he’ll find her pretty quick. There are some _penitentes_ still +in the valley and all _penitentes_ work together. You better look out.” + + + + + + CHAPTER XX + + +He had resolutely put the thought of Julia as much out of his mind as +possible. He had conquered his disappointment at not being able to see her +for a month, and had resolved to devote that month exclusively to hard +work. And now came another one of those small, square, brief letters with +its disturbing scent of lavender, and its stamp stuck upside down near the +middle of the envelope. + +“I will be in town tomorrow when you get this,” she wrote, “But only for a +day or two. We are going to move up to the capital for the rest of the +year. Gordon is going to stay here now. Just mother and I are coming down +to pack up our things. You can come and see me tomorrow evening.” + +It was astonishing, it was disturbing, it was incomprehensible. And it did +not fit in with his plans. He had intended to go North and return before +she did; then, with all his affairs in order, ask her to go away with him. +Cortez had already sent word to Alfego that Ramon was coming to Arriba +County. He could not afford a change of plans now. But the prospect of +seeing her again filled him with pleasure, sent a sort of weakening +excitement tingling through his body. + +And what did it mean that he was to be allowed to call on her? Had she, by +any chance, won over her mother and brother? No; he couldn’t believe it. +But he went to her house that evening shaken by great hopes and +anticipations. + +She wore a black dress that left her shoulders bare, and set off the slim +perfection of her little figure. Her face was flushed and her eyes were +deep. How much more beautiful she was than the image he carried in his +mind! He had been thinking of her all this while, and yet he had forgotten +how beautiful she was. He could think of nothing to say at first, but held +her by both hands and looked at her with eyes of wonder and desire. He +felt a fool because his knees were weak and he was tremulous. But a happy +fool! The touch and the sight of her seemed to dissolve his strength, and +also the hardness and the bitterness that life had bred in him, the streak +of animal ferocity that struggle brought out in him. He was all desire, +but desire bathed in tenderness and hope. She made him feel as once long +ago he had felt in church when the music and the pageantry and sweet +odours of the place had filled his childish spirit with a strange sense of +harmony. He had felt small and unworthy, yet happy and forgiven. So now he +felt in her presence that he was black and bestial beside her, but that +possession of her would somehow wash him clean and bring him peace. + +When he tried to draw her to him she shook her head, not meeting his eyes +and freed herself gently. + +“No, no. I must tell you.…” She led him to a seat, and went on, looking +down at a toe that played with a design in the carpet. “I must explain. I +promised mother that if she would let me see you this once to tell you, I +would never try to see you again.” + +There was a long silence, during which he could feel his heart pounding +and could see that she breathed quickly. Then suddenly he took her face in +both hot hands and turned it toward him, made her meet his eyes. + +“But of course you didn’t mean that,” he said. + +She struggled weakly against his strength. + +“I don’t know. I thought I did.… It’s terrible. You know… I wrote you … +some one saw us together. Gordon and mother found out about it. I won’t +tell you all that they said, but it was awful. It made me angry, and they +found out that I love you. It had a terrible effect on Gordon. It made him +worse. I can’t tell you how awful it is for me. I love you. But I love him +too. And to think I’m hurting him when he’s sick, when I’ve lived in the +hope he would get well.…” + +She was breathing hard now. Her eyes were bright with tears. All her +defences were down, her fine dignity vanished. When he took her in his +arms she struggled a little at first; then yielded with closed eyes to his +hot kisses. + +Afterward they talked a little, but not to much purpose. He had important +things to tell her, they had plans to make. But their great disturbing +hunger for each other would not let them think of anything else. Their +conversation was always interrupted by hot confusing embraces. + +The clock struck eleven, and she jumped up. + +“I promised to make you go home at eleven,” she told him. + +“But I must tell you … I have to leave town for a while.” He found his +tongue suddenly. Briefly he outlined the situation he faced with regard to +his estate. Of course, he said nothing about the _penitentes_, but he made +her understand that he was going forth to fight for both their fortunes. + +“I can’t do it, I won’t go, unless I know I am to have you,” he finished. +“Everything I have done, everything I am going to do is for you. If I lose +you I lose everything. You promise to go with me?” + +His eyes were burning with earnestness, and hers were wide with +admiration. He did not really understand her, nor she him. Unalterable +differences of race and tradition and temperament stood between them. They +had little in common save a great primitive hunger. But that, +none-the-less, for the moment genuinely transfigured and united them. + +She drew a deep breath. + +“Yes. You must promise not to try to see me until then. When you are +ready, let me know.” + +She threw back her head, opening her arms to him. For a moment she hung +limp in his embrace; then pushed him away and ran upstairs, leaving him to +find his way out alone. + +He walked home slowly, trying to straighten out his thoughts. Her presence +seemed still to be all about him. One of her hairs was tangled about a +button of his coat; her powder and the scent of her were all over his +shoulder; the recollection of her kisses smarted sweetly on his mouth. He +was weak, confused, ridiculously happy. But he knew that he would carry +North with him greater courage and purpose than ever before he had known. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXI + + +In the dry clean air of the Southwest all things change slowly. Growth is +slow and decay is even slower. The body of a dead horse in the desert does +not rot but dessicates, the hide remaining intact for months, the bones +perhaps for years. Men and beasts often live to great age. The _pinon_ +trees on the red hills were there when the conquerors came, and they are +not much larger now—only more gnarled and twisted. + +This strange inertia seems to possess institutions and customs as well as +life itself. In the valley towns, it is true, the railroads have brought +and thrown down all the conveniences and incongruities of civilization. +But ride away from the railroads into the mountains or among the lava +_mesas_, and you are riding into the past. You will see little earthen +towns, brown or golden or red in the sunlight, according to the soil that +bore them, which have not changed in a century. You will see grain +threshed by herds of goats and ponies driven around and around the +threshing floors, as men threshed grain before the Bible was written. You +will see Indian pueblos which have not changed materially since the brave +days when Coronado came to Taos and the Spanish soldiers stormed the +heights of Acoma. You will hear of strange Gods and devils and of the evil +eye. It is almost as though this crystalline air were indeed a great clear +crystal, impervious to time, in which the past is forever encysted. + +The region in which Ramon’s heritage lay was a typical part of this +forgotten land. In the southern end of the Rocky Mountains, it was a +country of great tilted _mesas_ reaching above timber line, covered for +the most part with heavy forests of pine and fir, with here and there +great upland pastures swept clean by forest fires of long ago. Along the +lower slopes of the mountains, where the valleys widened, were primitive +little _adobe_ towns, in which the Mexicans lived, each owning a few acres +of tillable land. In the summer they followed their sheep herds in the +upland pastures. There were not a hundred white men in the whole of Arriba +County, and no railroad touched it. + +In this region a few Mexicans who were shrewder or stronger than the +others, who owned stores or land, dominated the rest of the people much as +the _patrones_ had dominated them in the days before the Mexican War. Here +still flourished the hatred for the gringo which culminated in that war. +Here that strange sect, the _penitentes hermanos_, half savage and half +mediaeval, still was strong and still recruited its strength every year +with young men, who elsewhere were refusing to undergo its brutal +tortures. + +For all of these reasons, this was an advantageous field for the fight +Ramon proposed to make. In the valley MacDougall’s money and influence +would surely have beaten him. But here he could play upon the ancient +hatred for the gringo; here he could use to the best advantage the +prestige of his family; here, above all, if he could win over the +_penitentes_, he could do almost anything he pleased. + +His plan of joining that ancient order to gain influence was not an +original one. Mexican politicians and perhaps one or two gringos had done +it, and the fact was a matter of common gossip. Some of these _penitentes_ +for a purpose had been men of great influence, and their initiations had +been tempered to suit their sensitive skins. Others had been Mexicans of +the poorer sort, capable of sharing the half-fanatic, half sadistic spirit +of the thing. + +Ramon came to the order as a young and almost unknown man seeking its aid. +He could not hope for much mercy. And though he was primitive in many +ways, there was nothing in him that responded to the spirit of this +ordeal. The thought of Christ crucified did not inspire him to endure +suffering. But the thought of a girl with yellow hair did. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXII + + +Ramon went first to the ranch at the foot of the mountains which his uncle +had used as a headquarters, and which had belonged to the family for about +half a century. It consisted merely of an _adobe_ ranch house and barn and +a log corral for rounding up horses. + +Here Ramon left his machine. Here also he exchanged his business suit for +corduroys, a wide hat and high-heeled riding boots. He greatly fancied +himself in this costume and he embellished it with a silk bandana of +bright scarlet and with a large pair of silver spurs which had belonged to +his uncle, and which he found in the saddle room of the barn. From the +accoutrement in this room he also selected the most pretentious-looking +saddle. It was a heavy stock saddle, with German silver mountings and +saddle bags covered with black bear fur. A small red and black Navajo +blanket served as a saddle pad and he found a fine Navajo bridle, too, +woven of black horsehair, with a big hand-hammered silver buckle on each +cheek. + +He had the old Mexican who acted as caretaker for the ranch drive all of +the ranch horses into the corral, and chose a spirited roan mare for a +saddle animal. He always rode a roan horse when he could get one because a +roan mustang has more spirit than one of any other colour. + +The most modern part of his equipment was his weapon. He did not want to +carry one openly, so he had purchased a small but highly efficient +automatic pistol, which he wore in a shoulder scabbard inside his shirt +and under his left elbow. + +When his preparations were completed he rode straight to the town of +Alfego where the powerful Solomon had his establishment, dismounted under +the big cottonwoods and strolled into the long, dark cluttered _adobe_ +room which was Solomon Alfego’s store. Three or four Mexican clerks were +waiting upon as many Mexican customers, with much polite, low-voiced +conversation, punctuated by long silences while the customers turned the +goods over and over in their hands. Ramon’s entrance created a slight +diversion. None of them knew him, for he had not been in that country for +years, but all of them recognized that he was a person of weight and +importance. He saluted all at once, lifting his hat, with a cordial “_Como +lo va, amigos_,” and then devoted himself to an apparently interested +inspection of the stock. This, if conscientiously done, would have +afforded a week’s occupation, for Solomon Alfego served as sole merchant +for a large territory and had to be prepared to supply almost every human +want. There were shelves of dry goods and of hardware, of tobacco and of +medicines. In the centre of the store was a long rack, heavily laden with +saddlery and harness of all kinds, and all around the top of the room, +above the shelves, ran a row of religious pictures, including popes, +saints, and cardinals, Mary with the infant, Christ crucified and Christ +bearing the cross, all done in bright colours and framed, for sale at +about three dollars each. + +It was not long before word of the stranger’s arrival reached Alfego in +his little office behind the store, and he came bustling out, beaming and +polite. + +“This is Senor Solomon Alfego?” Ramon enquired in his most formal Spanish. + +“I am Solomon Alfego,” replied the bulky little man, with a low bow, “and +what can I do for the Senor?” + +“I am Ramon Delcasar,” Ramon replied, extending his hand with a smile, +“and it may be that you can do much for me.” + +“Ah-h-h!” breathed Alfego, with another bow, “Ramon Delcasar! And I knew +you when you were _un muchachito_” (a little boy). He bent over and +measured scant two feet from the floor with his hand. “My house is yours. +I am at your service. _Siempre!_” + +The two strolled about the store, talking of the weather, politics, +business, the old days—everything except what they were both thinking +about. Alfego opened a box of cigars, and having lit a couple of these, +they went out on the long porch and sat down on an old buggy seat to +continue the conversation. Alfego admired Ramon’s horse and especially his +silver-mounted saddle. + +“Ha! you like the saddle!” Ramon exclaimed in well-stimulated delight. He +rose, swiftly undid the cinches, and dropped saddle and blanket at the +feet of his host. “It is yours!” he announced. + +“A thousand thanks,” Alfego replied. “Come; I wish to show you some Navajo +blankets I bought the other day.” He led the way into the store, and +directed one of his clerks to bring forth a great stack of the heavy +Indian weaves, and began turning them over. They were blankets of the best +quality, and some of the designs in red, black and grey were of +exceptional beauty. Ramon stood smiling while his host turned over one +blanket after another. As he displayed each one he turned his bright +pop-eyes on Ramon with an eager enquiring look. At last when he had seen +them all, Ramon permitted himself to pick up and examine the one he +considered the best with a restrained murmur of admiration. + +“You like it!” exclaimed Alfego with delight. “It is yours!” + +Mutual good feeling having thus been signalized in the traditional Mexican +manner by an exchange of gifts, Alfego now showed his guest all over his +establishment. It included, in addition to the store, several ware rooms +where were piled stinking bales of sheep and goat and cow hides, sacks of +raw wool and of corn, pelts of wild animals and bags of _pinon_ nuts, and +of beans, all taken from the Mexicans in trade. Afterward Ramon met the +family, of patriarchal proportions, including an astonishing number of +little brown children having the bright eyes and well developed noses of +the great Solomon. Then came supper, a long and bountiful feast, at which +great quantities of mutton, chile, and beans were served. + +Having thus been duly impressed with the greatness and substance of his +host, and also with his friendly attitude, Ramon was led into the little +office, offered a seat and a fresh cigar. He knew that at last the proper +time had come for him to declare himself. + +“My friend,” he said, leaning toward Alfego confidentially, “I have come +to this country and to you for a great purpose. You know that a rich +gringo has been buying the lands of the poor people—my people and +yours—all through this country. You know that he intends to own all of +this country—to take it away from us Mexicans. If he succeeds, he will +take away all of your business, all of my lands. You and I must fight him +together. Am I right?” + +Solomon nodded his head slowly, watching Ramon with wide bright eyes. + +“_Verdad!_” he pronounced unctuously. + +“I have come,” Ramon went on more boldly, “because my own lands are in +danger, but also because I love the Mexican people, and hate the gringos! +Some one must go among these good people and warn them not to sell their +lands, not to be cheated out of their birthrights. My friend, I have come +here to do that.” + +“_Bueno!_” exclaimed Alfego. “_Muy bueno!_” + +“My friend, I must have your help.” + +Ramon said this as impressively as possible, and paused expectantly, but +as Alfego said nothing, he went on, gathering his wits for the supreme +effort. + +“I know that you are a leader in the great fraternity of the penitent +brothers, who are the best and most pious of men. My friend, I wish to +become one of them. I wish to mingle my blood with theirs and with the +blood of Christ, that all of us may be united in our great purpose to keep +this country for the Spanish people, who conquered it from the +barbarians.” + +Alfego looked very grave, puffed his cigar violently three times and spat +before he answered. + +“My young friend,” (he spoke slowly and solemnly) “to pour out your blood +in penance and to consecrate your body to Christ is a great thing to do. +Have you meditated deeply upon this step? Are you sure the Lord Jesus has +called you to his service? And what assurance have I that you are sincere +in all you say, that if I make you my brother in the blood of Christ, you +will truly be as a brother to me?” + +Ramon bowed his head. + +“I have thought long on this,” he said softly, “and I know my heart. I +desire to be a blood brother to all these, my people. And to you—I give +you my word as a Delcasar that I will serve you well, that I will be as a +brother to you.” + +There was a silence during which Alfego stared with profound gravity at +the ash on the end of his cigar. + +“Have you heard,” Ramon went on, in the same soft and emotional tone of +voice, “that the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad is going to build a line +through the San Antonio Valley?” + +Alfego, without altering his look of rapt meditation, nodded his head +slowly. + +“Do you suppose that you will gain anything by that, if this gringo gets +these lands?” Ramon went on. “You know that you will not. But I will make +you my partner. And I will give you the option on any of my mountain land +that you may wish to rent for sheep range. More than that, I will make you +a written agreement to do these things. In all ways we will be as +brothers.” + +“You are a worthy and pious young man!” exclaimed Solomon Alfego, rolling +his eyes upward, his voice vibrant with emotion. “You shall be my brother +in the blood of Christ.” + + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + + +Ramon went to the _Morada_, the chapter house of the _penitentes_, alone +and late at night, for all of the whippings and initiations of the order, +except those of Holy Week, are carried on in the utmost secrecy. + +The _Morada_ stood halfway up the slope north of the little town, at the +elevation where the tall yellow pines of the mountains begin to replace +the scrubby juniper and _pinon_ of the _mesas_ and foothills. It was a +cool moonlit night of late summer. A light west wind breathed through the +trees, making the massive black shadows of the juniper bushes faintly +alive. As he toiled up the rocky path Ramon heard the faraway yap and +yodel of a coyote, and the still more distant answer of another one. From +the valley below came the intermittent bay of a cur, inspired by the moon +and his wild kin, and now and then the tiny silver tinkle of a goat bell. + +The _Morada_ stood in an open space. It was an oblong block of _adobe_, +and gave forth neither light nor sound. Ramon stopped a little way from it +in the shadow of a tree and lit a cigarette to steady his nerves. He felt +now for the first time something of the mystery and terribleness of this +barbaric order which he proposed to use for his purpose. All his life the +_penitentes_ had been to him a well-known fact of life. For the past week +he had spent much of his time with the _maestro de novios_ of the local +chapter, a wizened old sheep herder, who had instructed him monotonously +in the secrets of the order, almost lulling him to sleep with his endless +mumblings of the ritual that was written in a little leather book a +century old. He had learned that if he betrayed the secrets of the order, +he would be buried alive with only his head sticking out of the ground, so +that the ants might eat his face. He had been informed that if he fell ill +he would be taken to the _Morada_ where his brothers in Christ would pray +for him, and seek to drive the devil out of his body, and that if he died, +they would send his shoes to his family as a notice of that event; and +would bury him in consecrated ground. Some of the things he had learned +had bored him and some had made him want to laugh, but none of them had +impressed him, as they were intended to do, with the might and dignity of +the ancient order. + +He was impressed now as he stood before this dark still house where a +dozen ignorant fanatics waited to take his blood for what was to them a +holy purpose. He knew that this _Morada_ was a very old one. He thought of +all the true penitents who had knocked for admission at its door and had +gone through its bloody ordeal with a zeal of madness which had enabled +them to cry loudly for blows and more blows until they fell insensible. He +tried to imagine their state of mind, but he could not. He was of their +race and a growth of the same soil, but an alien civilization had touched +him and sundered him from them, yet without taking him for its own. He +could only nerve himself to face this ordeal because it would serve his +one great purpose. + +As he stood there, a curious half-irrelevant thought came into his mind. +He knew that the marks they would make on his back would be permanent. He +had seen the long rough scars on the backs of sheep-herders, stripped to +the waist for the hot work of shearing. And he wondered how he would +explain these strange scars to Julia. He imagined her discovering them +with her long dainty hands, her round white arms. A great longing surged +up in him that seemed to weaken the very tissues of his body. He shook +himself, threw away his cigarette, went to the heavy wooden door and +knocked. + +Now he spoke a rigamarole in Spanish which had been taught him by rote. + +“God knocks at this mission’s door for His clemency,” he called. + +From within came a deep-voiced chorus, the first sound he had heard from +the house, seeming weirdly to be the voice of the house itself. + +“Penance, penance, which seeks salvation!” it chanted. + +“Saint Peter will open to me the gate, bathing me with the light, in the +name of Mary, with the seal of Jesus,” Ramon went on, repeating as he had +learned. “I ask this confraternity. Who gives this house light?” + +“Jesus,” answered the chorus within. + +“Who fills it with joy?” + +“Mary.” + +“Who preserves it with faith?” + +“Joseph!” + +The door opened and Ramon entered the chapel room of the _Morada_. It was +lighted by a single candle, which revealed dimly the rough earthen walls, +the low roof raftered with round pine logs, the wooden benches and the +altar, covered with black cloth. This was decorated with figures of the +skull and cross-bones cut from white cloth. A human skull stood on either +side of it, and a small wooden crucifix hung on the wall above it. The +solitary candle—an ordinary tallow one in a tin holder—stood before this. + +The men were merely dark human shapes. The light did not reveal their +faces. They said nothing to Ramon. He could scarcely believe that these +were the same good-natured _pelados_ he had known by day. Indeed they were +not the same, but were now merely units of this organization which held +them in bondage of fear and awe. + +One of them took Ramon silently by the arm and led him through a low door +into the other room which was the _Morada_ proper. This room was supposed +never to be entered except by a member of the order or by a candidate. It +was small and low as the other, furnished only with a few benches about +the wall, and lighted by a couple of candles on a small table. A very old +and tarnished oil painting of Mary with the Babe hung at one end of it. +All the way around the room, hanging from pegs driven into the wall, was a +row of the broad heavy braided lashes of _amole_ weed, called +_disciplinas_, used in Holy Week, and of the blood-stained drawers worn on +that occasion by the flagellants. + +Still in complete silence Ramon was forced to his knees by two of the men, +who quickly stripped him to the waist. Beside him stood a tall +powerfully-built Mexican with his right arm bared. In his hand he held a +triangular bit of white quartz, cleverly chipped to a cutting edge. This +man was the _sangredor_, whose duty it was to place the seal of the order +upon the penitent’s back. His office required no little skill, for he had +to make three cuts the whole length of the back and three the width, +tearing through the skin so as to leave a permanent scar, but not deep +enough to injure the muscle. Ramon, glancing up, saw the gleam of the +candle light on the white quartz, and also in the eyes of the man, which +were bright with eagerness. + +Now came the supreme struggle with himself. How could he go through with +this ugly agony? He longed to leap to his feet and fight these ignorant +louts, who were going to mangle him and beat him for their own amusement. +He held himself down with all his will, striving to think of the girl, to +hold his purpose before his mind, to endure.… + +He felt the hand of the _sangredor_ upon his neck, and gritted his teeth. +The man’s grip was heavy, hot and firm. A flash of pain shot up and down +his back with lightning speed, as though a red hot poker had been laid +upon it. Again and again and again! Six times in twice as many seconds the +deft flint ripped his skin, and he fell forward upon his hands, faint and +sick, as he felt his own blood welling upon his back and trickling in warm +rivulets between his ribs. + +But this was not all. To qualify, he knew, he must call for the lash of +his own free will. + +“For the love of God,” he uttered painfully, as he had been taught, “the +three meditations of the passion of our Lord.” + +On his torn back a long black snake whip came down, wielded with merciless +force. But he felt the full agony of the first blow only. The second +seemed faint, and the third sent him plunging downward through a red mist +into black nothingness. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV + + +A few days later one bright morning Ramon was sitting in the sun before +the door of his friend, Francisco Guiterrez, feeling still somewhat sore, +but otherwise surprisingly well. Guiterrez, a young sheep-herder, held the +position of _coadjutor_ of the local _penitente_ chapter, and one of his +duties as such was to take the penitent to his house and care for him +after the initiation. He had washed Ramon’s wounds in a tea made by +boiling Romero weed. This was a remedy which the _penitentes_ had used for +centuries, and its efficacy was proved by the fact that Ramon’s cuts had +begun to heal at once, and that he had had very little fever. + +For a couple of days Ramon had been forced to lie restlessly in the only +bed of the Guiterrez establishment. The Senora Guiterrez, a pretty buxom +young Mexican woman, had fed him on _atole_ gruel and on all of the eggs +which her small flock of scrub hens produced; the seven little dirty brown +Guiterrez children had come in to marvel at him with their fingers in +their mouths; the Guiterrez goats and dogs and chickens had wandered in +and out of the room in a companionable way, as though seeking to make him +feel at ease; and Guiterrez himself had spent his evenings sitting beside +Ramon, smoking cigarettes and talking. + +This time of idleness had not been wholly wasted, either, for it had come +out in the course of conversation that Guiterrez had been offered a +thousand dollars for his place by a man whom he did not know, but whom +Ramon had easily identified as an agent of MacDougall. Tempted by an +amount which he could scarcely conceive, Guiterrez was thinking seriously +of accepting the offer. + +Now that he had won over Alfego and had gotten the influence of the +_penitentes_ on his side, Ramon’s one remaining object was to defeat just +such deals as this, which MacDougall already had under way. He intended to +stir up feeling against the gringos, and to persuade the Mexicans not to +sell. Later, such lands as he needed in order to control the right-of-way, +he would gain by lending money and taking mortgages. But he did not intend +to cheat any one. Such Mexicans as he had to oust from their lands, he +would locate elsewhere. He was filled with a large generosity, and with a +real love for these, his people. He meant to dominate this country, but +his pride demanded that no one should be poor or hungry in his domain. So +now he argued the matter to Guiterrez with real sincerity. + +“A thousand dollars? _Por Dios_, man! Don’t you know that this place is +worth many thousand dollars to you?” + +“How can it be worth many thousand?” Guiterrez demanded. “What have I +here? A few acres of chile and corn, a little hay, some range for my +goats, a few cherry trees, a house.… Many thousands? No.” + +“You have here a home, _amigo_,” Ramon reminded him. “Do you know how long +a thousand dollars would support you? A year, perhaps. Then you would have +to work for other men the rest of your life. Here you are free and +independent.” + +Guiterrez said nothing, but he had obviously received a new idea, and was +impressed. Ramon never returned to the direct argument, but he missed no +chance to stimulate Guiterrez’s pride in his establishment. + +“This is a good little house you have _amigo_,” he would observe. And +Guiterrez would tell him that the house had been built by his grandfather, +but that its walls were as firm as ever, and that he had been intending +for several years to plaster it, but had never gotten time. Before he was +out of bed, Ramon was reasonably sure that Guiterrez would never sell. + +The house was indeed charmingly situated on a hillside at the foot of +which a little clear trout stream, called Rio Gallinas, chuckled over the +bright pebbles in its bed and ran to hide in thickets of willow. + +Sitting on the _portal_, which ran the length of the house and consisted +of a projection of the roof supported by rough pine logs, Ramon could look +down the canyon to where it widened into a little valley that lost itself +in the vast levels of the _mesa_. There thirsty sands swallowed the stream +and not a sprig of green marred the harmony of grey and purple swimming in +vivid light, reaching away to the horizon where faint blue mountains hung +in drooping lines. + +By turning his head, Ramon could look into the heart of the mountains +whence the stream issued through a narrow canyon, with steep, forested +ridges on either side, and little level glades along the water, set with +tall, conical blue spruce trees, pines with their warm red boles, and +little clumps of aspen with gleaming white stems, and trembling leaves of +mingled gold and green. + +Ramon spent many hours with his back against the wall, his knees drawn up +under his chin, Mexican fashion, smoking and vaguely dreaming of the girl +he loved and of the things he would do. The vast sun drenched landscape +before him was too much a part of his life, too intimate a thing for him +to appreciate its beauty, but after his struggles with doubt and desire, +it filled him with an unaccountable contentment. Its warmth and +brightness, its unchanging serenity, its ceaseless soft voices of wind and +water, lulled his mind and comforted his senses. The country was like some +great purring creature that let him lie in its bosom and filled his body +with the warm steady throb of its untroubled strength. + +After a week of recuperation, he bought a horse from Guiterrez for a pack +animal, loaded it with bedding and provisions and rode away into the +mountains. His task was now to find other men who had fallen under the +influence of MacDougall, and to persuade them not to sell their lands. +Some of them would be at their homes, but others would be with the sheep +herds, scattered here and there in the high country. He faced long days of +mountain wandering, and for all that he longed to be done with his task, +this part of it was sweet to him. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXV + + +These were days of power and success, days of a glamour that lingered long +in his mind. Beyond a doubt he was destroying MacDougall’s plan and +realizing his own. Sometimes he met a surly Mexican who would not listen +to him, but nearly always he won the man over in the end. He was amazed at +his own resourcefulness and eloquence. It seemed as though some inhibition +in him had been broken down, some magical elixir poured into his +imagination. He found that he could literally take a sheep camp by storm, +entering into the life of the men, telling them stories, singing them +songs, passing out presents of tobacco and whisky, often delivering a +wildly applauded harangue on the necessity for all Mexicans to act +together against the gringos, who would otherwise soon own the country. +Never once did he think of the incongruity of thus fanning the flames of +race hatred for the love of a girl with grey eyes and yellow hair. + +He did not always reach a house or a sheep camp at night. Many a time he +camped alone, catching trout for his supper from a mountain stream, and +going to sleep to the lonely music of running water in a wilderness. At +such times many a man would have lost faith in himself, would have feared +his crimes and lost his hopes. But to Ramon this loneliness was an old +friend. Like all who have lived much out-of-doors he was at heart a +pantheist, and felt more at peace and unity with wild nature than ever he +had with men. + +But there was one such night when he felt troubled. As he rode up the +Tusas Canyon at twilight, a sense of insecurity came over him, amounting +almost to fear. He had had a somewhat similar feeling once when a panther +had trailed him on a winter night. Now, as then, he had no idea what it +was that menaced him; he was simply warned by that sixth sense which +belongs to all wild things, and to men in whom there remains something of +the feral. His horses shared his unrest. When he picketed them, just +before dark, they fed uneasily, stopping now and then to stand like +statues with lifted heads, testing the wind with their nostrils, moving +their ears to catch some sound beyond human perception. + +When he had eaten his supper and made his bed, Ramon took the little +automatic revolver out of its scabbard and went down the canyon a quarter +of a mile, slipping along in the shadow of the brush that lined the banks +of the stream. This was necessary because a half-moon made the open glades +bright. He paused and peered a dozen times. So cautious were his movements +that he came within forty feet of a drinking deer, and was badly startled +when it bounded away with a snort and a smashing of brush. But he saw +nothing dangerous and went back to his camp and to bed. There he lay awake +for an hour, still troubled, oppressed by a vague feeling of the +littleness and insecurity of human life. + +A long, rippling snort of fear from his saddle horse, picketed near his +bed, awakened him and probably saved his life. When he opened his eyes, he +saw the figure of a man standing directly over him. He was about to speak, +when the man lifted his arms, swinging upward a heavy club. With quick +presence of mind, Ramon jerked the blankets and the heavy canvas tarpaulin +about his head, at the same time rolling over. The club came down with +crushing force on his right shoulder. He continued to roll and flounder +with all his might, going down a sharp slope toward the creek which was +only a few yards away. Twice more he felt the club, once on his arm and +once on his ribs, but his head escaped and the heavy blankets protected +his body. + +The next thing he knew, he had gone over the bank of the creek, which was +several feet high in that place, and lay in the shallow icy water. +Meantime he had gotten his hand on the automatic pistol. He now jerked +upright and fired at the form of his assailant, which bulked above him. +The man disappeared. For a moment Ramon sat still. He heard footsteps, and +something like a grunt or a groan. Then he extricated himself from the +cold, sodden blankets, climbed upon the bank, and began cautiously +searching about, with his weapon ready. He found the club—a heavy length +of green spruce-and put his hand accidentally on something wet, which he +ascertained by smelling it to be blood. + +He was shivering with cold and badly bruised in several places, but he was +afraid to build a fire. In case his enemy were not badly injured or had a +companion, that would have been risking another attack. He stood in the +shadow of a spruce, stamping his feet and rubbing himself, acutely +uncomfortable, waiting for daylight and wondering what this attack meant. +He doubted whether MacDougall would have countenanced such tactics, but it +might well have been an agent of MacDougall acting on his own +responsibility. Or it might have been some one sent by old Archulera. +Then, too, there were many poor connections of the Delcasar family who +would profit by his death. + +As he stood there in the dark, shivering and miserable, the idea of death +was not hard for him to conceive. He realized that but for the snort of +the saddle horse he would now be lying under the tree with the top of his +head crushed in. The man would probably have dragged his body into the +thick timber and left it. There he would have lain and rotted. Or perhaps +the coyotes would have eaten him and the buzzards afterward picked his +bones. He shuddered. Despite his acute misery, life had never seemed more +desirable. He thought of sunlight and warmth, of good food and of the love +of women, and these things seemed more sweet than ever before. He +realized, for the first time, too, that he faced many dangers and that the +chance of death walked with him all the time. He resolved fiercely that he +would beat all his enemies, that he would live and have his desires which +were so sweet to him. + +Daylight came at last, showing him first the rim of the mountain serrated +with spruce tops, and then lighting the canyon, revealing his disordered +camp and his horses grazing quietly in the open. He went immediately and +examined the ground where the struggle had taken place. A plain trail of +blood lead away from the place, as he had expected. He formed a plan of +action immediately. + +First he made a great fire, dried and warmed himself, cooked and ate his +breakfast, drinking a full pint of hot coffee. Then he rolled up all his +belongings, hid them in the bushes, and picketed his horses in a side +canyon where the grass was good. When these preparations were complete, he +took the trail of blood and followed it with the utmost care. He carried +his weapon cocked in his hand, and always before he went around a bend in +the canyon, or passed through a clump of trees, he paused and looked long +and carefully, like an animal stalking dangerous prey. + +At last, from the cover of some willows, he saw a man sitting beside the +creek. The man was half-naked, and was binding up his leg with some strips +torn from his dirty shirt. He was a Mexican of the lowest and most brutal +type, with a swarthy skin, black hair and a bullet-shaped head. Ramon +walked toward him. + +“_Buenas Dias, amigo_,” he saluted. + +The man looked up with eyes full of patient suffering, like the eyes of a +hurt animal. He did not seem either surprised or frightened. He nodded and +went on binding up his leg. + +Ramon watched him a minute. He saw that the man was weak from loss of +blood. There was a great patch of dried blood on the ground beside him, +now beginning to flake and curl in the sun. + +“I will come back in a minute, friend,” he said. + +He went back to his camp, saddled his horses, putting some food in the +saddle pockets. When he returned, the Mexican sat in exactly the same +place with his back against a rock and his legs and arms inert. Ramon +fried bacon and made coffee for him. He had to help the man put the food +in his mouth and hold a cup for him to drink. Afterward, with great +difficulty, he loaded the man on his saddle horse, where he sat heavily, +clutching the pommel with both hands. Ramon mounted the pack horse +bareback. + +“Where do you live, friend?” Ramon asked. + +“Tusas,” the Mexican replied, naming a little village ten miles down the +canyon. + +They exchanged no other words until they came within sight of the group of +_adobe_ houses. Then Ramon stopped his horse and turned to the man. + +“You were hunting,” he told him slowly and impressively, “and you dropped +your gun and shot yourself. _Sabes?_” + +The man nodded. + +“How much were you paid to kill me, friend?” Ramon then asked. + +The man looked at the pommel of the saddle, and his swarthy face darkened +with a heavy flush. + +“One hundred dollars,” he admitted. “I needed the money to christen a +child. Could I let my child go to hell? But I did not mean to kill you. +Only to beat you, so you would go away. Do not ask who sent me, for the +love of God.…” + +“I ask nothing more, friend,” Ramon assured him. “And since you were to +have a hundred dollars for making me leave the country, here is a hundred +dollars for not succeeding.” + +Both of them laughed. Ramon then rode on and delivered the man to his +excited and grateful wife. He went back to his camp very weary and sore, +but feeling that he had done an excellent stroke of work for his purpose. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI + + +After this occurrence his success among the humbler Mexicans was more +marked than ever, but some of the men of property who had been subsidized +by MacDougall were not so easily won over. Such a case was that of old +Pedro Alcatraz who owned a little store in the town of Vallecitos, a bit +of land and a few thousand sheep. Alcatraz was a tall boney old man, and +was of nearly pure Navajo Indian blood, as one could tell by the queer +crinkled character of his beard and moustache, which were like those of a +chinaman. He was simple and direct like an Indian, too, lacking the +Mexican talent for lying and artifice. In his own town he was a petty +czar, like Alfego, but on a much smaller scale. By reason of being +_Hermano Mayor_ of the local _penitente_ chapter, and of having most of +the people in his own neighbourhood in debt to him, he had considerable +power. He was advising men to sell their lands, and was lending more money +on land than it was reasonable to suppose he owned. Beyond a doubt, he had +been won by MacDougall’s dollars. + +Ramon found Alcatraz unresponsive. The old man listened to a long harangue +on the subject of the race issue without a word of reply, and without +looking up. Ramon then played what should have been his strongest card. + +“My friend,” he said, “you may not know it, but I am your brother in the +blood of Christ. Do I not then deserve better of you than a gringo who is +trying to take this country away from the Mexican people?” + +“Yes,” the old man answered quietly, “I know you are a _penitente_, and I +know why. Do you think that I am a fool like these _pelados_ that herd my +sheep? You wear the scars of a _penitente_ because you think it will help +you to make money and to do what you want. You are just like MacDougall, +except that he uses money and you use words. A poor man can only choose +his masters, and for my part I have more use for money than for words.” So +saying, the blunt old savage walked to the other end of his store and +began showing a Mexican woman some shawls. + +Ramon went away, breathing hard with rage, slapping his quirt against his +boots. He would show that old _cabron_ who was boss in these mountains! + +He went immediately and hired the little _adobe_ hall which is found in +every Mexican town of more than a hundred inhabitants, and made +preparations to give a _baile_. + +To give a dance is the surest and simplest way to win popularity in a +Mexican town, and Ramon spared no expense to make this affair a success. +He sent forty miles across the mountains for two fiddlers to help out the +blind man who was the only local musician. He arranged a feast, and in a +back room he installed a small keg of native wine and one of beer. + +The invitation was general and every one who could possibly reach the +place in a day’s journey came. The women wore for the most part calico +dresses, bright in colour and generous in volume, heavily starched and +absolutely devoid of fit. Their brown faces were heavily powdered, +producing in some of the darker ones a purplish tint, which was ghastly in +the light of the oil lamps. Some of the younger girls were comely despite +their crude toilets, with soft skins, ripe breasts, mild dark heifer-like +eyes, and pretty teeth showing in delighted grins. The men wore the cheap +ready-made suits which have done so much to make Americans look alike +everywhere, but they achieved a degree of originality by choosing brighter +colours than men generally wear, being especially fond of brilliant +electric blues and rich browns. Their broad but often handsome faces were +radiant with smiles, and their thick black hair was wetted and greased +into shiny order. + +The dance started with difficulty, despite symptoms of eagerness on all +hands. Bashful youths stalled and crowded in the doorway like a log jam in +the river. Bashful girls, seated all around the room, nudged and tittered +and then became solemn and self-conscious. Each number was preceded by a +march, several times around the room, which was sedate and formal in the +extreme. The favourite dance was a fast, hopping waltz, in which the swain +seized his partner firmly in both hands under the arms and put her through +a vigorous test of wind and agility. The floor was rough and sanded, and +the rasping of feet almost drowned the music. There were long Virginia +reels, led with peremptory dash by a master of ceremonies, full of grace +and importance. Swarthy faces were bedewed with sweat and dark eyes glowed +with excitement, but there was never the slightest relaxation of the +formalism of the affair. For this dance in an earthen hovel on a plank +floor was the degenerate but lineal descendant of the splendid and formal +balls which the Dons had held in the old days, when New Spain belonged to +its proud and wealthy conquerors; it was the wistful and grotesque remnant +of a dying order. + +Ramon had a vague realization of this fact as he watched the affair. It +stirred a sort of sentimental pity in him. But he threw off that feeling, +he had work to do. He entered into the spirit of the thing, dancing with +every woman on the floor. He took the men in groups to the back room and +treated them. He missed no opportunity to get in a word against the +gringos, and incidentally against those Mexicans who betrayed their +fellows by advising them to sell their lands. He never mentioned Alcatraz +by name, but he made it clear enough to whom he referred. + +Late in the evening, when all were mellowed by drink and excited by +dancing, he gained the attention of the gathering on the pretext of +announcing a special dance, and boldly gave a harangue in which he urged +all Mexicans to stick together against the gringos, and above all not to +sell their homes which their fathers had won from the barbarians, and were +the foundations of their prosperity and freedom. + +“Remember,” he urged them in a burst of eloquence that surprised himself, +“that in your veins is the blood of conquerors—blood which was poured out +on these hills and valleys to win them from the Indians, precious blood +which has made this land priceless to you for all time!” + +His speech was greeted with a burst of applause unquestionably +spontaneous. It filled him with a sense of power that was almost +intoxicating. In the town he might be neglected, despised, picked for an +easy mark, but here among his own people he was a ruler and leader by +birth. + +The most important result of the _baile_ was that it won over the stubborn +Alcatraz. He did not attend it, but he knew what happened there. He +realized that advice in favour of selling land would not be popular in +that section for a long time, and he acknowledged his defeat by inviting +Ramon to dinner at his house, and driving a shrewd bargain with him, +whereby he gave his influence in exchange for certain grazing privileges. + +On his way home a few days later Ramon looked back at the mountains with +the feeling that they belonged to him by right of conquest. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII + + +A week later Ramon was driving across the _mesa_ west of town, bound for +the state capital. He was following the same route that Diego Delcasar had +followed on the day of his death, and he passed within a few miles of +Archulera’s ranch; but no thought either of his uncle or of Archulera +entered his mind. For in his pocket was a letter consisting of a single +sentence hastily scrawled in a large round upright hand on +lavender-scented note paper. The sentence was: + + + +“Meet you at the southwest corner of the Plaza Tuesday at seven thirty. + + “Love, + + “J. R.” + + + +A great deal of trouble and anxiety had preceded the receipt of that +message. First he had written her a letter that was unusually long and +exuberant for him, telling her of his success and that now he was ready to +come and get her in accordance with their agreement, suggesting a time and +place. Three days of cumulative doubt and agony had gone by without a +reply. Then he had tried to reach her by long distance telephone, but +without success. Finally he had wired, although he knew that a telegram is +a risky vehicle for confidential business. Now he had her answer, the +answer that he wanted. His spirit was released and leapt forward, leaving +resentments and doubts far behind. + +It was eighty miles to the state capital, the road was good all the way, +the day bright and cool. His route lead across the _mesa_, through the +Scissors Pass, and then north and east along the foot of the mountains. + +Immense and empty the country stretched before him—a land of far-flung +levels and even farther mountains; a land which makes even the sea, with +its near horizons, seem little; a land which has always produced men of +daring because it inspires a sense of freedom without any limit save what +daring sets. + +He had dared and won. He was going to take the sweet price of his daring. +The engine of his big car sang to him a song of victory and desire. He +rejoiced in the sense of power under his hand. He opened the throttle +wider and the car answered with more speed, licking up the road like a +hungry monster. How easily he mastered time and distance for his purpose! + +He was to have her, she would be his. So sang the humming motor and the +wind in his ears. Her white arms and her red mouth, her splendid eyes that +feared and yielded! She was waiting for him! More speed. He conquered the +hills with a roar of strength to spare, topped the crests, and sped down +the long slopes like a bird coming to earth. + +He was to have her, she would be his. Could it be true? The great machine +that carried him to their tryst roared an affirmative, the wind sang of +it, his blood quickened with anticipation incredibly keen. And always the +distance that lay between them was falling behind in long, grey passive +miles. + +He had reached his destination a little after six. As he drove slowly +through the streets of the little dusty town, the mood of exaltation that +had possessed him during the trip died down. He was intent, worried +practical. Having registered at the hotel, he got a handful of time tables +and made his plans with care. They would drive to a town twenty-five miles +away, be married, and catch the California Limited. There would just be +time. Once he had her in his car, nothing could stop them. + +The _plaza_ or public square about which the old town was built, and which +had been its market place in the old days, was now occupied by a neat +little park with a band stand. Retail stores and banks fronted on three +sides of it, but the fourth was occupied by a long low _adobe_ building +which was very old and had been converted into a museum of local +antiquities. It was dark and lifeless at night, and in its shadow-filled +verandah he was to meet her. + +He had his car parked beside the spot ten minutes ahead of time. It was +slightly cold now, with a gusty wind whispering about the streets and +tearing big papery leaves from the cottonwood trees in the park. The +_plaza_ was empty save for an occasional passer-by whose quick footfalls +rang sharply in the silence. Here and there was an illuminated shop +window. The drug store on the opposite corner showed a bright interior, +where two small boys devoured ice cream sodas with solemn rapture. +Somewhere up a side street a choir was practising a hymn, making a noise +infinitely doleful. + +He had a bear-skin to wrap her in, and he arranged this on the seat beside +him and then tried to wait patiently. He sat very tense and motionless, +except for an occasional glance at his watch, until it showed exactly +seven-thirty. Then he got out of his car and began walking first to one +side of the corner and then to the other, for he did not know from which +direction she would come. At twenty-five minutes of eight he was angry, +but in another ten minutes anger had given way to a dull heavy +disappointment that seemed to hold him by the throat and make it difficult +to swallow. None-the-less he waited a full hour before he started up his +car and drove slowly back to the hotel. + +On the way he debated with himself whether he should try to communicate +with her tonight or wait until the next day. He knew that the wisest thing +would be to wait until the next day and send her a note, but he also knew +that he could not wait. He would find out where she lived, call her on the +telephone, and learn what had prevented her from keeping the appointment. +He had desperate need to know that something besides her own will had kept +her away. + +When he went to the hotel desk, a clerk handed him a letter. + +“This was here when you registered, I think,” he said. “But I didn’t know +it. I’m sorry.” + +When he saw the handwriting of the address he was filled with commotion. +Here, then, was her explanation. This would tell him why she had failed +him. This, in all probability, would make all right. + +He went to his room to read it, sat down on the edge of the bed and ripped +the envelope open with an impatient finger. The letter was dated two days +earlier—the day after she had received his telegram. + +“I don’t know what to say,” she wrote, “but it doesn’t matter much. You +will despise me anyway, and I despise myself. But I can’t help it—honestly +I can’t. I meant to keep my promise and I would have kept it, but they +found your telegram and mother read it—by mistake, of course. I ought to +have had sense enough to burn it. You can’t imagine how awful it has been. +Mother said the most terrible things about you, things she had heard. And +she said that I would be ruining my life and hers. I said I didn’t care, +because I loved you. I can’t tell you what an awful quarrel we had! And I +wouldn’t have given in, but she told Gordon and he was so terribly angry. +He said it was a disgrace to the family, and he began to cough and had a +hemorrhage and we thought he was going to die. Mother said he probably +would die unless I gave you up. + +“That finished me. I couldn’t do anything after that—I just couldn’t. +There was nothing but misery in sight either way, so what was the use? +I’ve lost all my courage and all my doubts have come back. I do love +you—terribly. But you are so strange, so different. And I don’t think we +would have gotten along or anything. I try to comfort myself by thinking +it’s all for the best, but it doesn’t really comfort me at all. I never +knew people could be as miserable as I am now. I don’t think its fair. + +“When you get this I will be on my way to New York and nearly there. We +are going to sail for Europe immediately. I will never see you again. I +will always love you. + + “Julia.” + + + +Rage possessed him at first—the rage of defeated desire, of injured pride, +of a passionate, undisciplined nature crossed and beaten. He flung the +letter on the floor, and strode up and down the room, looking about for +something to smash or tear. So she was that kind of a creature—a +miserable, whimpering fool that would let an old woman and a sick man rule +her! She was afraid her brother might die. What an excuse! And he had +killed, or at least sanctioned killing, for her sake. He had poured out +his blood for her. There was nothing he would not have dared or done to +have her. And here she had the soul of a sheep! + +But no—perhaps that was not it. Perhaps she had been playing with him all +along, had never had any idea of marrying him—because he was a Mexican! + +Bitter was this thought, but it died as his anger died. Something that sat +steady and clear inside of him told him that he was a fool. He was reading +the letter again, and he knew it was all truth. “There was nothing but +misery in sight either way,” she had written. + +Suddenly he understood; suffering and an awakened imagination had given +him insight. For the first time in his life, he realized the feelings of +another. He realized how much he had asked of this girl, who had all her +life been ruled, who had never tasted freedom nor practised self-reliance. +He saw now that she had rebelled and had fought against the forces and +fears that oppress youth, as had he, and that she had been bewildered and +overcome. + +His anger was gone. All hot emotion was gone. In its place was a great +loneliness, tinged with pity. He looked at the letter again. Its +handwriting showed signs of disturbance in the writer, but she had not +forgotten to scent it with that faint delightful perfume which was forever +associated in his mind with her. It summoned the image of her with a +vividness he could not bear. + +But courage and pride are not killed at a blow. He threw the letter aside +and shook himself sharply, like a man just awake trying to shake off the +memory of a nightmare. She was gone, she was lost. Well, what of it? There +were many other women in the world, many beautiful women. And he was +strong now, successful. One woman could not hurt him by her refusal. He +tried resolutely to put her out of his mind, and to think of his business, +of his plans. But these things which had glowed so brightly in his +imagination just a few hours before were suddenly as dead as cinders. He +knew that he cared little for dollars and lands in themselves. His nature +demanded a romantic object, and this love had given it to him. Love had +found him a wretch and a weakling, and had made him suddenly strong and +ruthless, bringing out all the colours of his being, dark and bright, +making life suddenly intense and purposeful. + +And she had meant so much to him besides love. To have won her would have +been to win a great victory over the gringos—over that civilization, alien +to him in race and temper, which antagonized and yet fascinated him, with +which he was forced to grapple for his life. + +She was gone, he had lost her. Perhaps it was just as well, after all, he +told himself, speaking out of his pride and his courage. But in his heart +was a great bitterness. In his heart he felt that the gringos had beaten +one more Delcasar. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXVIII + + +The next few days Ramon spent quietly and systematically drinking whisky. +This he did partly because he had a notion that it was an appropriate +thing to do under the circumstances, and partly because he had a genuine +need for something to jolt his mind out of its rut of misery. He was not +sociable in his cups, and did not seek company of either sex, inviting a +man to drink with him or accepting such an invitation only when he had to +do so. His favourite resort was the Silver Dollar Saloon, which was +furnished with tables set between low partitions, so that when he had one +of these booths to himself he enjoyed a considerable degree of isolation. +He drank carefully, like a Spaniard, never losing control of his feet or +of his eyes, taking always just enough to keep his mind away from +realities and filled with dreams. In these dreams Julia played a vivid and +delightful part. He imagined himself encountering her under all sorts of +circumstances, and always she was yielding, repentant, she was his. In a +dozen different ways he conquered her, taking in imagination, as men have +always done, what the reality had denied. Some of his fancies were +delightful and filled him with a sense of triumph, so that men glanced +curiously at the bright-eyed boy who sat there in his corner all alone, +absorbed and intent. But there were other times at night when his defeated +desire came and lay in his arms like an invisible unyielding succuba, +torturing, maddening, driving him back to the street to drink until +drunken sleep came with its sudden brutal mercy. + +But after a few days alcohol began to have little effect upon him, except +that when he awoke his hands were all aflutter so that he spilled his +coffee and tore his newspaper. He felt sick and weary, his misery numbed +by many repetitions of its every twinge. A sure instinct urged him to get +out of the town and into the mountains, but he hated to go alone and +lacked the initiative to start. He had a friend in the capital named +Curtis, who was half Mexican and half Irish. This young man was a dealer +in mules and horses, and he had a herd of some twenty head to take across +the mountains about sixty miles. Badly in need of a helper and unable to +hire one, he asked Ramon to go with him. The proposition was accepted with +relief but without enthusiasm. + +Trouble started immediately. The horses were only half broken, and the one +they chose for a pack animal rebelled ten miles from town and bucked the +pack off, scattering tin dishes, sides of bacon, loaves of bread and cans +of condensed milk all over a quarter of a mile of rough country. They +rounded up the recalcitrant in a pouring rain, and made a wet and +miserable camp, sleeping the sleep of exhaustion in sodden blankets. The +next morning the pack horse opened the exercises by rolling down a steep +bank into the creek, plastering himself on the way from head to tail with +a half gallon of high grade sorghum syrup which had been on top of the +load. At this Ramon’s tortured nerves exploded and he jumped into the +water after the floundering animal, belabouring it with a quirt, and +cursing it richly in two languages. + +He then put a slip noose around its upper lip and led it unmercifully, +while Curtis encouraged it from behind with a rope-end. Like all Mexicans, +they had little sympathy for horseflesh. + +These labours and hardships were Ramon’s salvation. The exercise and air +restored his health and in fighting the difficulties of unlucky travel he +relieved in some degree the rage against life that embittered him. + +When he got back to his room in the hotel he felt measurably at peace, +though weary in mind and body. He came across Julia’s letter, and the +sight and scent of it struck him a sharp painful blow, but he did not +pause now to savour his pain; he tore the letter into small pieces and +threw it away. Then he got out his car and started for home. + +He went back beaten over the same road that he had followed in the moment +of his highest hope, when life had seemed about to keep all the wonderful +promises it whispers in the ear of youth. But strangely this trip was not +the sad and sentimental affair it should have been. His rugged health had +largely recovered from the shock of disappointment and dissipation, an +excellent breakfast was digesting within him, the sky was bright as +polished turquoise and the ozonous west wind, which is the very breath of +hope, played sweetly in his face. He began to discover various consoling +conditions in his lot, which had seemed so intolerable just a few days +before. + +Probably no man under forty ever lost a woman without feeling in some +degree compensated by a sense of freedom regained, and in the man of +solitary and self-reliant nature, to whom freedom is a boon if not a +necessity, this feeling is not slow to assert itself. Moreover, Ramon was +now caught in the inevitable reaction from a purpose which had gathered +and concentrated his energies with passionate intensity for almost four +months. During that time he had lived with taut nerves for a single hope; +he had turned away from a dozen alluring by-paths; he had known that +absorbed singleness of purpose which belongs only to lovers, artists and +other monomaniacs. + +The bright hope that had led him had suddenly exploded, leaving him +stunned and flat for a time. Now he got to his feet and looked about. He +realized that the world still lay before him, a place of wonderful promise +and possibility, and apparently he could stray in any direction he chose. +He had money and freedom and an excellent equipment of appetites and +curiosities. Things he had dreamed of doing long ago, in case he should +ever come into his wealth, now revisited his imagination. He had promised +himself for one thing some hunting trips—long ones into the mountains and +down the river in his car. Gambling had always fascinated him, and he had +longed to sit in a game high enough to be really interesting, instead of +the quarter-limit affair that he had always played before. And there were +women … other women. And he meant to go to New York or Chicago sometime +and sample the fleshpots of a really great city.… Life after all was still +an interesting thing. + +Not that he forgot his serious purposes. He meant to open a law office, to +cultivate his political connections, to pursue his conquest of Arriba +County. But although he did not realize it, his plans for making himself a +strong and secure position in life had lost their vitalizing purpose. All +of these things he would do, but there was no hurry about them. His desire +now was to taste the sweetness of life, and to rest. He was without a +strong acquisitive impulse, and now that his great purpose in making money +was gone, these projects did not strongly engage his imagination. He had +plenty of money. He refused to worry. He felt reckless, too. If he had +lost his great hope, his reward was to be released from the discipline it +had imposed. + +Nor was there any other discipline to take its place. If there had been a +strong creative impulse in him, or if he had faced a real struggle for his +life or his personal freedom, he might now have recovered that condition +of trained and focussed energy which civilized life demands of men. But he +was too primitive to be engaged by any purely intellectual purpose, and +his money was a buffer between him and struggle imposed from without. + +As he thought of all the things he would do, he felt strong and sure of +himself. He thought that he was now a shrewd, cynical man, who could not +be deceived or imposed upon, who could take the good things of life and +discount the disillusionments. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXIX + + +One of his first acts in town was to negotiate a note at the bank for +several thousand dollars. This was necessary because he had little cash +and would not have much until spring, when he would sell lambs and shear +his sheep. He not only needed money for himself, but his mother and +sister, after many lean years, were eager to spend. + +He drove out to see Catalina, and found her big with child and utterly +indifferent to him, which piqued him slightly and relieved him a great +deal. She had heard nothing about her father, and Ramon sent Cortez out to +Domingo Canyon to see what had become of the old man. Cortez reported the +place deserted. Ramon made inquiry in town and learned that Archulera had +been seen there in his absence, very much dressed-up and very drunk, +followed by a crowd of young Mexicans who were evidently parasites on his +newly-acquired wealth. Then he had disappeared, and some thought he had +gone to Denver. It was evident that his five thousand dollars had proved +altogether too much for him. + +Ramon now hung out a shingle, announcing himself as an attorney-at-law. Of +course, no business came to him. The right way to get a practice would +have been to go back to the office of Green or some other established +lawyer for several years. But Ramon had no idea of doing anything so +tiresome and so relatively humiliating. The idea of running errands for +Green again was repugnant to him. + +He went every morning to his office and for a while he took a certain +amount of satisfaction in merely sitting there, reading the local papers, +smoking a cigar, now and then taking down one of his text books and +reading a little. But study as such had absolutely no appeal to him. He +might have dug at the dry case books to good purpose if he had been driven +by need, but as it was he would begin to yawn in ten or fifteen minutes, +and then would put the book away. He went home to a noonday dinner rather +early and came back in the afternoon, feeling sleepy and bored. Now the +office, and indeed the whole town, seemed a dreary place to him. At this +season of the year there were often high winds which mantled the town in a +yellow cloud of sand, and rattled at every loose shutter and door with +futile dreary persistence. Ramon would wander about the office for a +little while with his hands in his pockets and stare out the window, +feeling depressed, thoughts of his disappointment coming back to him +bitterly. Then he would take his hat and go out and look for some one to +play pool with him. Often he took an afternoon off and went hunting, not +alone as formerly he had done, but with as large a party as he could +gather. They would drive out into the sand hills and _mesas_ twenty or +thirty miles from town, where the native quail and rabbits were still +abundant as automobiles had just begun to invade their haunts. When they +found a covey of quail the sport would be fast and furious, with half a +dozen guns going at once and birds rising and falling in all directions. +Ramon keenly enjoyed the hot excitement and dramatic quality of this. + +At night he was usually to be found at the White Camel Pool Hall where the +local sporting element foregathered and made its plans for the evening. +Sometimes a party would be formed to “go down the line,” as a visit to the +red light district was called. Sometimes the rowdy dance halls of Old Town +were invaded. On Saturday nights the dance at the country club always drew +a considerable attendance. There was also a “dancing class” conducted by +an estimable and needy spinster named Grimes, who held assembly dances +once in two weeks in a little hall which had been built by the Woman’s +Club. This event always drew a large and very mixed crowd, including some +of the “best people” and others who were considered not so good. Usually +two or three different sets were represented at these gatherings, each +tending to keep to itself. But there was also a tendency for the sets to +overlap. Thus a couple of very pretty German girls, who were the daughters +of a local saloon keeper, always appeared accompanied by young men of +their own circle with whom they danced almost exclusively at first. But +young men of the first families could not resist their charms, and they +soon were among the most popular girls on the floor. This was deplored by +the young women of more secure social position, who were wont to remark +that the crowd was deteriorating frightfully. Some of these same superior +virgins found it necessary for politeness to dance with Joe Bartello, the +son of an Italian saloon owner, and a very handsome and nimble-footed +youth. In a word, this was a place of social hazard and adventure, and +that was more than half its charm. It finally became so crowded that +dancing was almost impossible. + +The back room at the White Camel, where poker games were nightly in +progress, also afforded Ramon frequent diversion. He played in the “big” +game now, where the stakes and limits were high, and was one of the most +daring and dangerous of its patrons. He had more money back of him than +most of the men who played there, and he also had more courage. If he +started a bluff he carried it through to the end, which was always bitter +for some one. He had been known to stand pat on a pair and scare every one +else out of the game by the resolute confidence of his betting. His +plunges, of course, sometimes cost him heavily, but for a long time he was +a moderate winner. His limitations as a poker player were finally +demonstrated to him by one Fitzhugh Chesterman, a man with one lung. + +Chesterman was about twenty-six years old and had come from Richmond, +Virginia, about two years before, with most of one lung gone and the other +rapidly going. He was a tall, thin blond youth with the sensitive, +handsome face which so often marks the rare survivor of the old southern +aristocracy. He was totally lacking in the traditional southern +sentimentality. His eye had a cold twinkle of courage that even the +imminent prospect of death could not quench, and his thin shapely lips +nearly always wore a smile slightly twisted by irony. He established +himself at the state university, which had almost a hundred students and +boasted a dormitory where living was very cheap. Chesterman sat before +this dormitory twelve to fourteen hours a day, even in relatively cold +weather. He made a living by coaching students in mathematics and Greek. +He never raised his voice, he seldom laughed, he never lost his temper. +With his unwavering ironical smile, as though he appreciated the keen +humour of taking so much trouble over such an insignificant thing as a +human life, he husbanded his energy and fought for health. He took all the +treatments the local sanatoria afforded, but he avoided carefully all the +colonies and other gatherings of the tubercular. When his lung began to +heal, as it did after about a year, and his strength to increase, he +enlarged his earnings by playing poker. He won for the simple reason that +he took no more chances than he had to. He systematically capitalized +every bit of recklessness, stupidity and desperation in his opponents. + +When Ramon first encountered him, the game soon simmered down to a +struggle between the two. Never were the qualities of two races more +strikingly contrasted. Ramon bluffed and plunged. Chesterman was caution +itself, playing out antes in niggardly fashion until he had a hand which +put the law of probabilities strongly on his side. Ramon was full of +daring, intuition, imagination, bidding always for the favour of the +fates, throwing logic to the winds. He was not above moving his seat or +putting on his hat to change his luck. Chesterman smiled at these things. +He was cold courage battling for a purpose and praying to no deities but +Cause and Effect. Ramon thought he was playing for money, but he was +really playing for the sake of his own emotions, revelling alike in hope +and despair, triumph and victory, flushed and bright-eyed. Chesterman +stifled every emotion, discounted every hope, said as little as possible, +never relaxed his faint twisted smile. + +Ramon made some spectacular winnings, but Chesterman wore him down as +surely as a slow hound wears down a deer despite its astounding bursts of +speed. Ramon was sure to lose in the long run because he was always piling +up odds against himself by the long chances he took, while his bluffs +seldom deceived his cool and courageous opponent. The finish came at one +o’clock in the morning. Chesterman was pale with exhaustion, but otherwise +unchanged. Ramon was hoarse and flushed, chewing a cigar to bits. He held +a full house and determined to back it to the limit. Chesterman met him, +bet for bet, raising every time. Ramon knew that he must be beaten. He +knew that Chesterman would not raise him unless he had a very strong hand. +But he was beaten anyway. At the bottom of his consciousness, he knew that +he had met a better man. He wanted to end the contest on this hand. When +Chesterman showed four kings, Ramon fell back in his chair, weak and +disgusted. The other players, most of whom had long been out of the game, +got up and said good night one by one. Only the two were left, Ramon +plunged in gloomy reaction, Chesterman coolly counting his money, putting +it away. + +“I seem to have made quite a killing,” he remarked, “how much did you +lose?” + +“O, I don’t know … about five hundred. Hell, what’s five hundred to me … I +don’t give a damn … I’m rich.…” + +Chesterman glanced at him keenly. + +“Well,” he remarked, “I’m glad you feel that way about it, because I sure +need the money.” + +He got up and walked away with the short careful steps of a man who +cherishes every ounce of his energy. + +Ramon was disgusted with himself. Chesterman had made him feel like a +weakling and a child. He had thought himself a lion in this game, and he +had found out that he was an easily-shorn lamb. He could not afford to +lose five hundred dollars either. He was not really a rich man. He went +home feeling deeply depressed and discouraged. Vaguely he realized that in +Chesterman he had encountered the spirit which he felt against him +everywhere—a cool, calculating, unmerciful spirit of single purpose, +against which the play and flow of his emotional and imaginative nature +was as ineffectual as mercury against the point of a knife. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXX + + +Within the next few days Ramon was sharply reminded that he lived in a +little town where news travels fast and nobody’s business is exclusively +his own. Cortez came into his office and accepted a seat and a cigar with +that respectful but worried manner which always indicated that he had +something to say. + +“I hear you lost five hundred dollars the other night,” he observed +gravely, watching his young employer’s face. + +“Well, what of it?” Ramon enquired, a bit testily. + +“You can’t afford it,” Cortez replied. “And not only the money … you’ve +got to think of your reputation. You know how these gringos are. They keep +things quiet. They expect a young man to lead a quiet life and tend to +business. It’s all right to have a little fun … they all do it … but for +God’s sake be careful. You hurt your chances this way … in the law, in +politics.” + +Ramon jerked his head impatiently and flushed a little, but reflection +checked his irritation. Hatred of restraint, love of personal liberty, the +animal courage that scorns to calculate consequences were his by heritage. +But he knew that Cortez spoke the truth. + +“All right Antonio,” he said with dignity. “I’ll be careful.” + +The next day he got a letter which emphasized the value of his henchman’s +warning and made Ramon really thoughtful. It was from MacDougall, and made +him another offer for his land. It had a preamble to the effect that land +values were falling, money was “tight,” and therefore Ramon would do well +to sell now, before a further drop in prices. It made him an offer of ten +thousand dollars less than MacDougall had offered before. + +Ramon knew that the talk about falling values was largely bluff, that +MacDougall had heard of his losses and of his loose and idle life, and +thought that he could now buy the lands at his own price. The gringo had +confidently waited for the Mexican to make a fool of himself. Ramon +resolved hotly that he would do no such thing. He had no idea of selling. +He would be more careful with his money, and next summer he would go back +to Arriba County, renew his campaign against MacDougall and buy some land +with the money he could get for timber and wool. He replied very curtly to +MacDougall that his lands were not for sale. + +After that he stayed away from poker games for a while. This was made +easier by a new interest which had entered his life in the person of a +waitress at the Eldorado Lunch room. The girls at this lunch room had long +borne a bad reputation. Even in the days before the big hotel had been +built, when the railroad company maintained merely a little red frame +building there, known as the Eating House, these waitresses had been a +mainstay of local bachelordom. Their successors were still referred to by +their natural enemies, the respectable ladies of the town, as “those awful +eating house girls”; while the advent of a new “hash-slinger” was always a +matter of considerable interest among the unmarried exquisites who +fore-gathered at the White Camel. In this way Ramon quickly heard of the +new waitress. She was reputed to be both prettier and less approachable +than most of her kind. Sidney Felberg had made a preliminary +reconnaissance and a pessimistic report. + +“Nothing doing,” he said. “She’s got a husband somewhere and a notion +she’s cut out for better things.… I’m off her!” + +This immediately provoked Ramon’s interest. He went to the lunch room at a +time when he knew there would be few customers. When he saw the girl he +felt a faint thrill. The reason for this was that Dora McArdle somewhat +resembled Julia. The resemblance was slight and superficial, yet instantly +noticeable. She was a little larger, but had about the same figure, and +the same colour of hair, and above all the same sensuous, provocative +mouth. Ramon followed her with his eyes until she became conscious of his +scrutiny, when she tossed her head with that elaborate affectation of +queenly scorn, which seems to be the special talent of waitresses +everywhere. Nevertheless, when she came to take his order she gave him a +pleasant smile. He saw now that she was not really like Julia. She was +coarse and commonplace, but she was also shapely, ripe-breasted, +good-natured, full of the appeal of a healthy animalism. + +“What time do you get done here?” Ramon enquired. + +“Don’t know that it’s any of your business,” she replied with another one +of her crushing tosses of the head, and went away to get his order. When +she came back he asked again. + +“What time did you say?” + +“Well, about nine o’clock, if it’ll give you any pleasure to know.” + +“I’ll come for you in my car,” he told her. + +“Oh! will you?” and she paid no more attention to him until he started to +go, when she gave him a broad smile, showing a couple of gold teeth. + +At nine o’clock he was waiting for her at the door, and she went with him. +He took her for a drive on the _mesa_, heading for the only road house +which the vicinity boasted. It was a great stone house, which had been +built long ago by a rich man, and had later fallen into the hands of an +Italian named Salvini, who installed a bar, and had both private dining +rooms and bed rooms, these latter available only to patrons in whom he had +the utmost confidence. This resort was informally known as the “chicken +ranch.” + +When Ramon tried to take his fair partner there, on the plea that they +must have a bite to eat, she objected. + +“I don’t believe that place is respectable,” she told him very primly. “I +don’t think you ought to ask me to go there.” + +“O Hell!” said Ramon to himself. But aloud he proposed that they should +drive to an adjacent hill-top from which the lights of the town could be +seen. When he had parked the car on this vantage point and lit a +cigarette, Dora began a narrative of a kind with which he was thoroughly +familiar. She was of that well-known type of woman who is found in a +dubious position, but explains that she has known better days. Her father +had been a judge in Kansas, the family had been wealthy, she had never +known what work was until she got married, her marriage had been a +tragedy, her husband had drank, there had been a smash-up, the family had +met with reverses. On and on went the story, its very tone and character +and the grammar she used testifying eloquently to the fact that she was no +such crushed violet as she claimed to be. Ramon was bored. A year ago he +would have been more tolerant, but now he had experienced feminine charm +of a really high order, and all the vulgarity and hypocrisy of this woman +was apparent to him. And yet as he sat beside her he was keenly, almost +morbidly conscious of the physical attraction of her fine young body. For +all her commonness and coarseness, he wanted her with a peculiarly urgent +desire. Here was the heat of love without the flame and light, desire with +no more exaltation than accompanies a good appetite for dinner. He was +puzzled and a little disgusted.… He did not understand that this was his +defeated love, seeking, as such a love almost inevitably does, a vicarious +satisfaction. + +Repugnance and desire struggled strangely within him. He was half-minded +to take her home and leave her alone. At any rate he was not going to sit +there and listen to her insane babble all night. To put his fortunes to +the test, he abruptly took her in his arms. She made a futile pretence of +resistance. When their lips touched, desire flashed up in him strongly, +banishing all his hesitations. He talked hot foolishness to which she +listened greedily, but when he tried to take her to Salvini’s again, she +insisted on going home. Before he left her he had made another +appointment. + +Now began an absurd contest between the two in which Ramon was always +manœuvring to get her alone somewhere so that he might complete his +conquest if possible, while her sole object was to have him gratify her +vanity by appearing in public with her. This he knew he could not afford +to do. He could not even drive down the street with her in daylight +without all gossips being soon aware he had done so. No one knew much +about her, of course, but she was “one of those eating house girls” and to +treat her as a social equal was to court social ostracism. He would win +the enmity of the respectable women of the town, and he knew very well +that respectable women rule their husbands. His prospects in business and +politics, already suffering, would be further damaged. + +Here again was a struggle within him. He was of a breed that follows +instinct without fear, that has little capacity for enduring restraints. +And he knew well that the other young lawyers, the gringos, were no more +moral than he. But they were careful. Night was their friend and they were +banded together in a league of obscene secrecy. He despised this code and +yet he feared it. For the gringos held the whip; he must either cringe or +suffer. + +So he was careful and made compromises. Dora wanted him to take her to +dinner in the main dining room of the hotel, and he evaded and compromised +by taking her there late at night when not many people were present. She +wanted him to take her to a movie and he pleaded that he had already seen +the bill, and asked her if she wanted to bore him. And when she pouted he +made her a present of a pair of silk stockings. She accepted all sorts of +presents, so that he felt he was making progress. She was making vague +promises now of “sometime” and “maybe,” and his desire was whipped up with +anticipation, making him always more reckless. + +One night late he took her to the Eldorado and persuaded her to drink +champagne, thinking this would forward his purpose. The wine made her rosy +and pretty, and it also made her forget her poses and affectations. She +was more charming to him than ever before, partly because of the change in +her, and partly because his own critical faculties were blunted by +alcohol. He was almost in love with her and he felt sure that he was about +to win her. But presently she began wheedling him in the old vein. She +wanted him to take her to the dance at the Woman’s Club! + +This would be to slap convention in the face, and at first he refused to +consider it. But he foolishly went on drinking, and the more he drank the +more feasible the thing appeared. Dora had quit drinking and was pleading +with him. + +“I dare you!” she told him. “You’re afraid.… You don’t think I’m good +enough for you.… And yet you say you love me.… I’m just as good as any +girl in this town.… Well if you won’t, I’m going home. I’m through! I +thought you really cared.” + +And then, when he had persuaded her not to run away, she became sad and +just a little tearful. + +“It’s terrible,” she confided. “Just because I have to make my own +living.… It’s not fair. I ought never to speak to you again.… And yet, I +do care for you.…” + +Ramon was touched. The pathos of her situation appealed strongly to his +tipsy consciousness. Why not do it? After all, the girl was respectable. +As she said, nobody “had anything on her.” The dance was a public affair. +Any one could go. He had been too timid. Not three people there knew who +she was. By God, he would do it! + +At first they did not attract much attention. Dora was pretty and fairly +well dressed, in no way conspicuous. They danced exclusively with each +other, as did some other couples present, and nothing was thought of that. + +But soon he became aware of glances, hostile, disapproving. Probably it +was true that only a few of the men at first knew who Dora was, but they +told other men, and some of the men told the women. Soon it was known to +all that he had brought “one of those awful eating house girls” to the +dance! The enormity of the mistake he had made was borne in upon him +gradually. Some of the men he knew smiled at him, generally with an +eye-brow raised, or with a shake of the head. Sidney Felberg, who was a +real friend, took him aside. + +“For the love of God, Ramon, what did you bring that Flusey here for? +You’re queering yourself at a mile a minute. And you’re drunk, too. For +Heaven’s sake, cart her away while the going’s good!” + +Ramon had not realized how drunk he was until he heard this warning. + +“O, go to hell, Sid!” he countered. “She’s as good as anybody … I guess I +can bring anybody I want here.…” + +Sidney shook his head. + +“No use, no use,” he observed philosophically. “But it’s too bad!” + +Ramon’s own words sounded hollow to him. He was in that peculiar condition +when a man knows that he is making an ass of himself, and knows that he is +going right ahead doing it. He was more attentive to Dora than ever. He +brought her a glass of water, talked to her continually with his back to +the hostile room. He was fully capable of carrying the thing through, even +though girls he had known all his life were refusing to meet his eyes. + +It was Dora who weakened. She became quiet and sad, and looked infinitely +forlorn. When a couple of women got up and moved pointedly away from her +vicinity, her lip began to tremble, and her wide blue eyes were brimming. + +“Come on, take me away quick,” she said pathetically. “I’m going to cry.” + +When they were in the car again she turned in the seat, buried her face in +her arms and sobbed passionately with a gulping noise and spasmodic +upheavals of her shoulders. Ramon drove slowly. He was sober now, +painfully sober! He was utterly disgusted with himself, and bitterly sorry +for Dora. A strong bond of sympathy had suddenly been created between +them, for he too had tasted the bitterness of prejudice. For the first +time Dora was not merely a frumpy woman who had provoked in him a desire +he half-despised; she was a fellow human, who knew the same miseries.… He +had intended to take her this night, to make a great play for success, but +he no longer felt that way. He drove to the boarding house where she +lived. + +“Here you are,” he said gently, “I’ll call you up tomorrow.” + +Dora looked up for the first time. + +“O, no!” she plead. “Don’t go off and leave me now. Don’t leave me alone. +Take me somewhere, anywhere.… Do anything you want with me.… You’re all +I’ve got!” + + + + + + CHAPTER XXXI + + +The rest of the winter Ramon spent in an aimlessly pleasant way. He tried +to work but without arousing in himself enough enthusiasm to insure +success. He played pool, gambled a little and hunted a great deal. He +relished his pleasures with the keen appetite of health and youth, but +when they were over he felt empty-minded and restless and did not know +what to do about it. + +Some business came to his law office. Because of his knowledge of Spanish +and of the country he was several times employed to look up titles to +land, and this line of work he might have developed into a good practice +had he possessed the patience. But it was monotonous, tedious work, and it +bored him. He would toil over the papers with a good will for a while, and +then a state of apathy would come over him, and like a boy in school he +would sit vaguely dreaming.… Such dull tasks took no hold upon his mind. + +He defended several Mexican criminals, and found this a more congenial +form of practice, but an unremunerative one. The only case which advanced +him toward the reputation for which every young attorney strives brought +him no money at all. A young Mexican farmer of good reputation named Juan +Valera had been converted to the Methodist faith. Like most of the few +Mexicans who are won over to Protestantism, he had brought to his new +religion a fanatical spirit, and had made enemies of the priests and of +many of his neighbours by proselyting. Furthermore, his young and pretty +wife remained a Catholic, which had caused a good deal of trouble in his +house. But the couple were really devoted and managed to compromise their +differences until a child was born. Then arose the question as to whether +it should be baptized a Catholic or a Methodist. The girl wanted her baby +to be baptized in the Catholic faith, and was fully persuaded by the +priests that it would otherwise go to purgatory. She was backed by her +father, whose interference was resented by Juan more than anything else. +He consulted the pastor of his church, a bigoted New Englander, who +counselled him on no account to yield. + +One evening when Juan was away from home, his father-in-law came to his +house and persuaded the girl to go with him and have the child baptized in +the Catholic faith, in order that it might be saved from damnation. After +the ceremony they went to a picture-show by way of a celebration. When +Juan came home he learned from the neighbours what had happened. His face +became very pale, his lips set, and his eyes had a hot, dangerous look. He +got out a butcher knife from the kitchen, whetted it to a good point, and +went and hid behind a big cottonwood tree near the moving-picture theatre. +When his wife with the child and her father came out, he stepped up behind +the old man and drove the knife into the back of his neck to the hilt, +severing the spinal column. Afterward he looked at the dead man for a +moment and at his wife, sitting on the ground shrieking, then went home +and washed his hands and changed his shirt—for blood had spurted all over +him—walked to the police station and gave himself up. + +This man had no money, and it is customary in such cases for the court to +appoint a lawyer to conduct the defence. Usually a young lawyer who needs +a chance to show his abilities is chosen, and the honor now fell upon +Ramon. + +This was the first time since he had begun to study law that he had been +really interested. He understood just how Juan Valera had felt. He called +on him in jail. Juan Valera was composed, almost apathetic. He said he was +willing to die, that he did not fear death. + +“Let them hang me,” he said. “I would do the same thing again.” + +Ramon studied the law of his case with exhaustive thoroughness, but the +law did not hold out much hope for his client. It was in his plea to the +jury that he made his best effort. Here again he discovered the eloquence +that he had used the summer before in Arriba County. Here he lost for a +moment his sense of aimlessness, felt again the thrill of power and the +joy of struggle. He described vividly the poor Mexican’s simple faith, his +absolute devotion to it, showed that he had killed out of an +all-compelling sense of right and duty. He found a good many witnesses to +testify that Juan’s father-in-law had hectored the young man a good deal, +insulted him, intruded in his home. Half of the jurors were Mexicans. For +a while the jury was hung. But it finally brought in a verdict of murder +in the first degree, which was practically inevitable. Juan accepted this +with a shrug of his shoulders and announced himself ready to hang and meet +his Methodist God. But Ramon insisted on taking an appeal. He finally got +the sentence commuted to life imprisonment. He then felt disgusted, and +wished that he had let the man hang, feeling that he would have been +better off dead than in the state penitentiary. But Juan’s wife, who +really loved him, came to Ramon’s office and embraced his knees and +laughed and cried and swore that she would do his washing for nothing as +long as she lived. For now she could visit her husband once a month and +take him _tortillas!_ Ramon gave her ten dollars and pushed her out the +door. He had worked hard on the case. He felt old and weary and wanted to +get drunk. + + + +One day Ramon received an invitation to go hunting with Joe Cassi and his +friends. He accepted it, and afterward went on many trips with the Italian +saloon-owner, thereby doing further injury to his social standing. + +Cassi had come to the town some twenty years before with a hand organ and +a monkey. The town was not accustomed to that form of entertainment; some +of the Mexicans threw rocks at Cassi and a dog killed his monkey. Cassi +was at that time a slender youth, handsome, ragged and full of high hopes. +When his monkey was killed he first wept with rage and then swore that he +would stay in that town and have the best of it. He now owned three +saloons and the largest business building in town. He was a lean, grave, +silent little man. + +Cassi had made most of his money in the days when gambling was “open” in +the town, and he had surrounded himself with a band of choice spirits who +were experts in keno, roulette and poker. These still remained on his +hands, some of them in the capacity of barkeepers, and others practically +as pensioners. They were all great sportsmen, heavy drinkers and +loyal-to-the-death friends. At short intervals they went on hunting trips +down the river, generally remaining over the week-end. It was of these +expeditions that Ramon now became a regular member. Sometimes the whole +party would get drunk and come back whooping and singing as the +automobiles bowled along, occasionally firing shotguns into the air. At +other times when luck was good everyone became interested in the sport and +forgot to drink. Ramon had a real respect for Cassi, and a certain amount +of contempt for most of the rest of them; yet he felt more at home with +these easy-going, pleasure-loving, loyal fellows than he did with those +thrifty, respectable citizens in whose esteem the dollar stood so +invariably first. + +Cassi and his friends used most often to go to a Mexican village some +fifty miles down the river where the valley was low and flat, and speckled +with shallow alkaline ponds made by seepage from the river. Every evening +the wild ducks flew into these ponds from the river to feed, and the +shooting at this evening flight Ramon especially loved. The party would +scatter out, each man choosing his own place on the East side of one of +the little lakes, so that the red glare of the sunset was opposite him. +There he would lie flat on the ground, perhaps making a low blind of weeds +or rushes. + +Seldom even in January was it cold enough to be uncomfortable. Ramon would +lie on an elbow, smoking a cigarette, watching the light fade, and the +lagoon before him turn into molten gold to match the sunset sky. It would +be very quiet save for such sounds as the faraway barking of dogs or the +lowing of cattle. When the sky overhead had faded to an obscure purple, +and the flare of the sunset had narrowed to a belt along the horizon, he +would hear the distant eerie whistle of wild wings. Nothing could be seen +yet, but the sound multiplied. He could distinguish now the roar of a +great flock of mallards, circling round and round high overhead, scouting +for danger. He could hear the sweet flute-notes of teal and pintails, and +the raucous, cautious quack of some old green-head. A teal would pitch +suddenly down to the water before him and rest there, erect and wary, +painted in black upon the golden water. Another would join it and another. +The cautious mallards, encouraged by this, would swing lower. The music of +their wings seemed incredibly close; he would grip his gun hard, holding +himself rigidly still, feeling clearly each beat of his heart. + +Suddenly the ducks would come into view … dark forms with ghostly blurs +for wings, shooting with a roar into the red flare of light. The flash of +his shotgun would leap out twice. The startled birds would bound into the +air like blasted rock from a quarry, and be lost in the purple mystery of +sky, except two or three that hurtled over and over and struck the water, +each with a loud spat, throwing up little jets of gold. + +Sometimes there were long waits between shots, but at others the flight +was almost continuous, the air seemed full of darting birds, and the gun +barrels were hot in his hands. His excitement would be intense for a time; +yet after he had killed a dozen birds or so he would often lose interest +and lie on his back listening to the music of wings and of bird voices. He +had that aversion to excess which seems to be in all Latin peoples. +Besides, he did not want many ducks to dispose of.… It was the rush and +colour, the dramatic quality of the thing that he loved. + +Most of the others killed to the limit with a fine unflagging lust for +blood, giving a brilliant demonstration of the fact that civilized man is +the most destructive and bloodthirsty of all the predatory mammals. + + + +The coming of spring was marked by a few heavy rains, followed by the +faint greening of the cottonwood trees and of the alfalfa fields. The grey +waste of the _mesa_ showed a greenish tinge, too, heralding its brief +springtime splendor when it would be rich with the purple of wild-peas, +pricked out in the morning with white blossoms of the prairie primrose. +Now and then a great flock of geese went over the town, following the Rio +Grande northward half a mile high, their faint wild call seeming the very +voice of this season of lust and wandering. + +Ramon felt restless and lost interest in all his usual occupations. He +began to make plans and preparations for going to the mountains. He bought +a tent and a new rifle and overhauled all his camping gear. He thought he +was getting ready for a season of hard work, but in reality his strongest +motive was the springtime longing for the road and the out-of-doors. He +was sick of whisky and women and hot rooms full of tobacco smoke. + +Withal it was necessary that he should go to Arriba County, follow up his +campaign of the preceding fall, arrange a timber sale if possible so that +he might buy land, and above all see that his sheep herds were properly +tended. This was the crucial season in the sheep business. Like the other +sheep owners, he ranged his herds chiefly over the public domain, and he +gambled on the weather. If the rain continued into the early summer so +that the waterholes were filled and the grass was abundant, he would have +a good lamb crop. The sale of part of this and of the wool he would shear +would make up the bulk of his income for the year. And he had already +spent that income and a little more. He could not afford a bad year. If it +was a dry spring, so that lambs and ewes died, he would be seriously +embarrassed. In any case, he was determined to be on the range in person +and not to trust the herders. If it came to the worst and the spring was +dry he would rent mountain range from the Forest Service and rush his +herds to the upland pastures as early as possible. He was not at all +distressed or worried; he knew what he was about and had an appetite for +the work. + +One morning when he was in the midst of his preparations, he went to his +office and found on the desk a small square letter addressed in a round, +upright, hand. This letter affected him as though it had been some blossom +that filled the room with a fragrant narcotic exhalation. It quickened the +beat of his heart like a drug. It drove thought of everything else out of +his mind. He opened it and the faint perfume of it flowed over him and +possessed his senses and his imagination.… + +It was a long, gossipy letter and told him of nearly everything that Julia +had done in the six months since they had parted “forever”. The salient +fact was that she had been married. A young man in a New York brokerage +office who had long been a suitor for her hand, and to whom she had once +before been engaged for part of a summer, had followed the Roths to Europe +and he and Julia had been married immediately after their return. + +“I give you my word, I don’t know why I did it,” she wrote. “Mother wanted +me to, and I just sort of drifted into it. First thing I knew I was +engaged and the next thing mother was sending the invitations out, and +then I was in for it. It was a good deal of fun being engaged, but when it +came to being married I was scared to death and couldn’t lift my voice +above a whisper. Since then it has been rather a bore. Now my husband has +been called to London. I am living alone here in this hotel. That is, more +or less alone. A frightful lot of people come around and bore me, and I +have to go out a good deal. I’m supposed to be looking for an apartment, +too; but I haven’t really started yet. Ralph won’t be back for another two +or three weeks, so I have plenty of time. + +“I don’t know why in the world I’m writing you this long frightfully +intimate letter. I don’t seem to know why I do anything these days. I know +its most improper for a respectable married lady, and I certainly have no +reason to suppose you want to be bothered by me any more after the way I +did. But somehow you stick in the back of my head. You might write me a +line, just out of compassion, if you’re not too busy with all your sheep +and mountains and things.” She signed herself “as ever”, which, he +reflected bitterly, might mean anything. + +At first the fact that she was married wholly engaged his attention. She +was then finally and forever beyond his reach. This was the end sure +enough. He was not going to start any long aimless correspondence with her +to keep alive the memory of his disappointment. He planned various brief +and chilly notes of congratulation.… Then another thought took precedence +over that one. She was alone there in that hotel. Her husband was in +London. She had written to him and given him her address.… His blood +pounded and his breath came quick. He made his decision instantly, on +impulse. He would go to New York. + +He wired the hotel where she was stopping for a reservation, but sent no +word at all to her. He gave the bewildered and troubled Cortez brief +orders by telephone to go to Arriba County in his place, arranged a note +at the bank for two thousand dollars, and caught the limited the same +night at seven-thirty-five. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXXII + + +He looked at New York through a taxicab window without much interest. A +large damp grey dirty place, very crowded, where he would not like to +live, he thought. He managed himself and his baggage with ease and +dispatch; his indifferent, dignified manner and his reckless use of money +were ideally effective with porters, taxi drivers and the like. When he +reached the hotel about eight o’clock at night he went to his room and +made himself carefully immaculate. He studied himself with a good deal of +interest in the full length mirror which was set in the bath room door; +for he had seldom encountered such a mirror and he had a considerable +amount of vanity of which he was not at all conscious. It struck him that +he was remarkably good-looking, and indeed he was more so than usual, his +eyes bright, his face flushed, his whole body tense and poised with +purpose and expectation. + +He went down to the lobby, looked Julia up in the register, ascertained +the number of her room, and made a note of it. Then he asked the telephone +girl to call her and learn whether she was in. + +“Yes; she is in. She wants to know who’s calling, please.” + +“Tell her an old friend who wants to surprise her.” He did not care to +risk any evasion, and he also wanted his arrival to have its full dramatic +effect. + +The telephone girl transmitted his message. + +“She says she can’t come down yet … not for about half an hour.” + +“Tell her I’ll wait. If she asks for me I’ll be in that little room +there.” He pointed to a small reception room opening off the mezzanine +gallery, which he had selected in advance. He had planned everything +carefully. + + + +When he stood up to meet her she gave a little gasp, and took a step back. + +“Why, you! Ramon! How could you? You shouldn’t have come. You know you +shouldn’t. I didn’t mean that … I had no idea.…” + +He came forward and took her hand and led her to a settee. Despite all her +protests he could see very plainly that he had scored heavily in his own +favour. She was flustered with excitement and pleasure. Like all women, +she was captivated by sudden, decisive action and loved the surprising and +the dramatic. + +They sat side by side, looking at each other, smiling, making unimportant +remarks, and then looking at each other again. Ramon felt that she had +changed. She was as pretty as ever, and never had she stirred him more +strongly. But her appeal seemed more immediate than before; she seemed +less remote. The innocence of her wide eyes was a little less noticeable +and their flash of recklessness a little more so. It seemed to him that +her mouth was larger, which may have been due to the fact that she had +rouged it a little too much. She wore a pink decollete with straps over +the shoulders one of which kept slipping down and had to be pulled up +again. + +Ramon was tremulous with a half-acknowledged anticipation, but he held +himself strongly in hand. He felt that he had an advantage over her—that +he was more at ease and she less so than at any previous meeting—and he +meant to keep it. + +But she was rapidly regaining her composure, and took refuge in a rather +formal manner. + +“Are you going to be here long?” she enquired in the conventional tone of +mock-interest. + +“Just a week or so on business,” he explained, determined not to be +outpointed in the game. “I had to come some time this spring, and when I +got your note I thought I would come while you are here.” + +“But I’ll be here the rest of my life probably. This is where I live. You +ought to have come when my husband was here. I’d like to have you meet +him. As it is, I can’t see much of you, of course.…” + +He refused to be put out by this coldness, but tried to strike a more +intimate note. + +“Tell me about your marriage,” he asked. “Are you really happy?… Do you +like it?” + +She looked at the floor gravely. + +“You shouldn’t ask that, of course,” she reproved. “Everyone who has just +been married is very, very happy.… No, I don’t like it a darn bit.” + +“It’s not what you expected, then.” + +“I don’t know what I expected, but from the way people talk about it and +write about it you would certainly think it was something wonderful—love +and passion and bliss and all that, I mean. I feel that I’ve either been +lied to or cheated … of course,” she added with a little side glance at +him, “I didn’t exactly love my husband.…” She blushed and looked down +again; then laughed softly and rather joyfully for a lady with a broken +heart. + +“If mother could only hear me now!” she observed.… “She’d faint. I don’t +care.… That’s just the way I feel.… I don’t care! All my life I’ve been +trained and groomed and prepared for the grand and glorious event of +marriage. I’ve been taught it’s the most wonderful thing that can happen +to anyone. That’s what all the books say, and all the people I know. And +here it turns out to be a most uncomfortable bore.…” + +He looked gravely sympathetic. + +“Do you think it would have been different with—someone you did love?” he +enquired cautiously. + +She gave him another quick thrilling glance. + +“I don’t know,” she said.… “Maybe … I felt so different about you.” + +Their hands met on the settee and they both moved instinctively a little +closer together. + +Suddenly she jerked away from him, looking him in the eyes with her head +thrown back and a smile of irony on her lips. + +“Aren’t we a couple of idiots?” she demanded. + +“No!” he declared with fierce emphasis, and throwing an arm about her, +pounced on her lips. + +Just then a bell boy passed the door. They jerked apart and upright very +self-consciously. Then they looked at each other and laughed. But their +eyes quickly became deep and serious again, and their fingers entangled. + +She sighed in mock exasperation. + +“For Heaven’s sake, say something!” she demanded. “We can’t sit here and +make eyes at each other all evening. Besides I’m compromising my priceless +reputation. It’s after ten o’clock. I’ve got to go.” She rose, and held +out her hand, which he took without saying anything. + +“Good night,” she said. “I think you were mean to come and camp on me this +way … dumb as ever, I see … well, good night.” + +She went to the door, stopped and looked back, smiled and disappeared. + +Ramon went down to the lobby and roamed all over the two floors which +constituted the public part of the hotel. He looked at everything and +smoked a great many cigarettes, thus restlessly whiling away an hour. Then +he went to a writing room. He collected some telegrams and letters about +him and appeared to be very busy. When a bell boy went by, he rapped +sharply on the desk with a fifty-cent piece, and as the boy stopped, +tossed it to him. + +“Get me the key to 207!” he ordered sharply; then turned back to his +imaginary business. + +“Yes sir,” said the boy. He returned in a few minutes with the key. + +Ramon sat for a long moment looking at it, tremulous with a great +anticipation. He was divided between a conviction that she expected him +and a fear that she did not.… His fear proved groundless. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIII + + +The next day they met for dinner at a little place near Washington Square +where it was certain that none of Julia’s friends ever went. Julia was a +singularly contented-looking criminal. Never, Ramon thought had her skin +looked more velvety, her eyes deeper or more serene. He was a trifle +haggard, but happy, and both of them were hungry. + +“Do you know?… I’ve made a discovery,” she told him. “I haven’t any +conscience. I slept peacefully nearly all day, and when I waked up I +considered the matter carefully … I don’t believe that I have any proper +appreciation of the enormity of what I’ve done at all. I have always +thought that if anything like this ever happened to me I would go off and +chloroform myself, but as a matter of fact I have no such intention … of +course, though, it was not my fault in the least. You’re so terrible!… I +simply couldn’t help myself, and I don’t see what I can do now … that’s +comforting. But one thing is certain. We’ve got to be awfully careful. +Thank Heaven, mother and Gordon are still in Florida and they won’t dare +to come North on Gordon’s account until it gets a good deal warmer. But we +must be careful. I’m not sorry, like I should be, but I sure am scared.…” + +They sat for a long time after the meal, Ramon smoking a cigar, their +knees touching under the table. He was filled with a vast contentment. He +thought nothing of the troubled past, nor did he look into the obviously +troubled future. He merely basked in the consciousness of a possession +infinitely sweet. + +Now began for them a life of clandestine adventure. Julia had a good many +engagements, but she managed to give him some part of every day. They +never met in the hotel, but usually took taxicabs separately and met in +out-of-the-way parts of that great free wilderness of city. Ramon spent +most of the time when he was not with her exploring for suitable meeting +places. They became patrons of cellar restaurants in Greenwich Village, of +French and Italian places far down town, of obscure Brooklyn hotels. If +the regular fare at these establishments was not all they desired, Ramon +would lavishly bribe the head waiter, call the proprietor into +consultation if necessary, insist on getting what Julia wanted. He spent +his money like a millionaire, and usually created the general impression +that he was a wealthy foreigner. Every morning he had flowers sent to +Julia’s room. Often they would take a taxi and spend hours riding about +the streets with the blinds drawn, locked in each others’ arms. + +For a week they were keenly, excitedly happy, living wholly in the joy of +the moment. Then a flaw appeared upon the glowing perfect surface of their +happiness. + +“When is your husband coming back?” he enquired once, when they were +riding through Central Park. + +“I don’t know. In a week or two. Why?” + +“Because we must decide pretty soon what we’re going to do.” + +“Do? What can we do?” + +“We must decide where we’re going. You must go with me somewhere. I’m not +going to let you get away from me again … not even for a little while.” + +“But Ramon, how can we? I’m married. I can’t go anywhere with you.…” + +He seized her fiercely by the shoulders and held her away from him, +looking into her eyes. + +“Don’t you love me, then?” he demanded. + +“Ramon! You know I do!” + +“Then you’ll go. We can go to Mexico City, or South America … I’ll sell +out at home.…” + +“O, Ramon … I can’t. I haven’t got the courage. Think of the fuss it would +raise. And it would kill Gordon, I know it would.…” + +“Damn Gordon!” he exclaimed, “he’s not going to get in the way again! +You’re mine and I’m going to keep you. You will go. I’ll take you!” + +He had seized her in his arms, was holding her furiously tight. She put +her arms around him, caressed his face with soft fluttering hands. + +“Please, Ramon! Please don’t make me miserable. Don’t spoil the only +happiness I ever had! I will go with you if ever I can, if I can get a +divorce or something. But I can’t run off like that. I haven’t got it in +me … please let me be happy!” + +Her touch and her voice seemed to overcome his determination, seemed to +sheer him of his strength. Weaker she was than he, but her charm was her +power. It dragged him away from his thoughts and purposes, binding him to +her and to the moment.… She drew his head down to her breast, found his +lips with hers and so effectively cut his protests short. + + + +The cream of his happiness was gone. Always when he was alone, he was +thinking and planning how he could keep her. All of his possessiveness was +aroused. He wanted her to have a baby. Somehow he felt that then his +conquest would be complete, that then he would be at peace.… + +He said nothing more to Julia because he saw that it was useless. He began +to understand her a little. It was futile to ask her to make a decision, +to take any initiative. She could hold out forever against pleas which +involved an effort of the will on her part. And yet as he knew she could +yield charmingly to pressure adroitly applied. If he had asked her to meet +him in New York this way, he reflected, she would have been horrified, she +would never have consented. But when he came, suddenly, that had been +different. So it was now. If he could only form a really good plan, and +then put her in a cab and take her … that would be the only way. The +difficulty was to form the plan. He had capacity for sudden and decisive +action. He lacked neither courage nor resolution. But when it came to +making a plan which would require much time and patience, he found his +limitations. + +What could he do? he asked himself, not realizing that in formulating the +question he acknowledged his impotence. If he went away and left her while +he settled his affairs, she was lost as surely as a bird released from a +cage. The idea of Mexico City allured him. But he had hardly enough money +to take them there. How could he raise money on short notice? It would +take time to settle his estate in New Mexico and get anything out of it.… + +Two unrealized facts lay at the root of his difficulty. One was that he +had no capacity for large and intricate plans, and the other was that he +felt bound as by an invisible tether to the land where he had been born. + +As he struggled with all these conflicting considerations and emotions, +his head fairly ached with futile effort. He was glad to lay it upon +Julia’s soft bosom, to forget everything else again in the sweetness of a +stolen moment. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIV + + +He had been in New York about ten days when he awoke one morning near +noon. An immense languor possessed him. He had been with Julia the night +before and never had she been more charming, more abandoned.… He ordered +his breakfast to be sent up, and then stretched out in bed and lit an +expensive Russian cigarette. He had that love of sensuous indolence, +which, together with its usual complement, the capacity for brief but +violent action, marked him as a primitive man—one whom the regular labors +and restraints of civilization would never fit. + +His telephone bell rang, and when he took down the receiver he heard +Julia’s voice. It was not unusual for her to call him about this time, but +what she told him now caused a blank and hapless look to come over his +face. She was not in her room, but in another hotel. + +“My husband got in this morning,” she explained in a voice that was thin +with misery and confusion. “I got his message last night, but I didn’t +tell you because I knew it would spoil our last time together, and I was +afraid you would do something foolish.… Please say you’re not angry. You +know there was nothing for it. We couldn’t have done any of those wild +things you talked about. I’ll always love you, honestly I will. Won’t you +even say goodby?…” + +He at last did say goodby and hung up the receiver and went across the +room and sat in an armchair. It suddenly struck him that he was very +tired. He had not realized it before … how tired he was. There was none of +the mad rebellion in him now that had filled him when first she had run +away from him. Although he had never acknowledged it to himself he had +been more than half prepared for this. He had told himself that he was +going to do something bold and decisive, but he had procrastinated; he had +never really formed a plan. + +Weariness was his leading emotion. He was spent, physically and +emotionally. He wanted her almost as much as ever. While she was no longer +the remote and dazzling star she had been, the bond of flesh that had been +created between them seemed a stronger, a more constant thing than +blinding unsatisfied desire. But a great despair possessed him. There was +so obviously nothing he could do. Just as his other disappointment had +given him his first stinging impression of the irony of life, that +cunningly builds a hope and then smashes it; so now he felt for the first +time something of the helplessness of man in the current or his destiny, +driven by deep-laid desires he seldom understands, and ruled by chances he +can never calculate. From love a man learns life in quick and painful +flashes. + +Through the open window came the din of the New York street—purr and throb +of innumerable engines, rumble and clatter of iron wheels, tapping of +thousands of restless feet, making a blended current of sound upon which +floated and tossed the shrillness of police whistles and newsboys’ voices +and auto horns. It had been the background of his life during memorable +days. Once it had stirred his pulses, seeming a wild accompaniment to the +song of his passion. Now it wearied him inexpressibly; it seemed to be +hammering in his ears; he wanted to get away from it. He would go home +that day. + + + +As always on his trips across the continent he sat apathetically smoking +through the wide green lushness of the middle west. Only when the +cultivated lands gave way to barren hills and faint blue mountains peeping +over far horizons did he turn to the window and forget his misery and his +weariness. How it spoke to his heart, this country of his own! He who +loved no man, who had gone to women with desire and come away with +bitterness, loved a vast and barren land, baking in the sun. The sight of +it quickened his pulses, softened and soothed his spirit. Like a good +liquor it nursed and beautified whatever mood was in him. When he had come +back to it a year before, it had spoken to him of hope, its mysterious +distances had seemed full of promise and hidden possibility. And now that +he came back to it with hopes broken, weary in mind and body, it seemed +the very voice of rest. He thought of long cool nights in the mountains +and of the lullaby that wind and water sing, of the soothing monotony of +empty sunlit levels, of the cool caress of deep, green pools, of the sweet +satisfaction that goes with physical weariness and a full belly and a bed +upon the ground. + +But when on the last morning of his journey he waked up within a hundred +miles of home, and less than half that far from his own mountain lands, +his new-found comfort quickly changed to a keen anxiety. For he saw at a +glance that the country was under the blight of drought. The hills that +should have borne a good crop of gramma grass at this time of the year, if +the rains had been even fair, were nothing but bare red earth from which +the rocks and the great roots of the _pinion_ trees stood out like the +bones of a starving animal. Here and there on the hillsides he could see a +scrubby pine that had died, its needles turned rust-red—the sure sign of a +serious drought. + +During the half month that he had been gone he had thought not once of his +affairs at home. The moment had absorbed him completely. Now it all came +back to him suddenly. When he had left, the promise of the season had been +good. It had not rained for more than a week, but everyone had been +expecting rain every day. It was clear to him that the needed rain had +never come. And he knew just what that meant to him. It meant that he had +lost lambs and ewes, that he would have no money this year with which to +meet his notes at the bank. He sank deep in despair and disgust again. Not +only was the assault on his fortunes a serious one, but he felt little +inclined to meet it. He was weary of struggle. He saw before him a long +slow fight to get on his feet again, with the chance of ultimate failure +if he had another bad year. + +The Mexicans firmly believe, in the face of much evidence to the contrary, +that seven wet years are always followed by seven dry ones. He had heard +the saying gravely repeated many times. He more than half believed it. And +he knew that for a good many years, perhaps as many as six or seven, the +rains had been remarkably good. He was intelligent, but superstition was +bred in his bones. Like all men of a primitive type he had a strong +tendency to believe in fortune as a deliberate force in the affairs of +men. It seemed clear to him now, in his depressed and exhausted condition, +that bad luck had marked him for its prey. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXXV + + +His forebodings were confirmed in detail the next morning when Cortez came +into his office, his face wrinkled with worry and darkened by exposure to +the weather. He was angry too. + +“_Por Dios_, man! To go off like that and not even leave me an address. If +I could have gotten more money to hire men I might have saved some of them +… yes, more than half of the lambs died, and many of the ewes. There is +nothing to do now. They are on the best of the range, and it has begun to +rain in the mountains. But it is too bad. It cost you many thousands … +that trip to New York.” + +Ramon gave Cortez a cigar to soothe his sensibilities, thanked him with +dignity for his loyal services, and sent him away. Then he put on his hat +and went outside to walk and think. + +The town seemed to him quiet as though half-deserted. This was partly by +contrast with the place of din which he had just left, and partly because +this was the dull season, when the first hot spell of summer drove many +away from the town and kept those who remained in their houses most of the +day. The sandy streets caught the sun and cherished it in a merciless +glare. They were baked so hot that barefoot urchins hopped gingerly from +one patch of shade to the next. In the numerous vacant lots rank jungles +of weeds languished in the dry heat, and long blue-tailed lizards, +veritable heat-sprites, emerged to frolic and doze on deserted sidewalks. +The leaves of the cottonwoods hung limp, and the white downy tufts that +carried their seeds everywhere drifted and swam in the shimmering air. The +river had shrunk to a string of shallow pools in a sandy plain, the +irrigation ditches were empty, and in Old Town the Mexicans were asking +God for rain by carrying an image of the Virgin Mary about on a litter and +firing muskets into the air. + +Quickly wearied, Ramon sat down on a shaded bench in the park and tried to +think out his situation and to decide what he should do. The easy way was +to sell out, pay his debts, provide for his mother and sister and with +what was left go his own way—buy a little ranch perhaps in the mountains +or in the valley where he could live in peace and do as he pleased. +Wearied as he was by struggle and disappointment, this prospect allured +him, and yet he could not quite accept it. He felt vaguely the fact that +in selling his lands, he would be selling out to fate, he would be +surrendering to MacDougall, to the gringos, he would be renouncing all his +high hopes and dreams. His mountain lands, with their steadily increasing +value, the power they gave him, would make of his life a thing of +possibilities—an adventure. Settled on a little ranch somewhere, his whole +story would be told in one of its years. + +This he did not reason clearly, but the emotional struggle within him was +therefore all the stronger. It was his old struggle in another guise—the +struggle between the primitive being in him and the civilized, between +earth and the world of men. Each of them in turn filled his mind with +images and emotions, and he was impotent to judge between them. + +His being was fairly rooted in the soil, and the animal happiness it +offered—the free play of instinct, the sweetness of being physically and +emotionally at peace with environment—was the only happiness he had ever +known. Vaguely yet surely he had felt the world of men and works, the +artificial world, to contain something larger and more beautiful than +this. Julia Roth had been to him a stimulating symbol of this higher, this +more desirable thing. His love for her had been the soil in which his +aspirations had grown. That love had turned to bitterness and lust, and +his aspirations had led him among greeds and fears and struggles that +differed from those of the wild things only in that they were covert and +devious, lacking the free beauty of instinct fearlessly followed and the +dignity of open battle. Of civilization he had encountered only the raw +and ugly edge, which is uglier than savagery. He knew no more of the true +spirit of it than a man who has camped in a farmer’s back pasture knows of +the true spirit of wildness. It had treated him without mercy and brought +out the worst of him. And yet because he had once loved and dreamed he +could not go back to the easy but limited satisfactions of the soil and be +wholly content. + +So he could not make up his mind at first to surrender, but in the next +few days one thing after another came to tempt him that way. MacDougall +made him an offer for his lands which to his surprise was a little better +than the last one. He learned afterward that the over-shrewd lawyer had +misinterpreted his trip to New York, imagining that he had gone there to +interest eastern capital in his lands. + +His mother and sister were two very cogent arguments in favour of selling. +The Dona Delcasar, a simple and vain old lady, now regarded herself as a +woman of wealth, and was always after him for money. Her ambition was to +build a house in the Highlands and serve tea at four o’clock (although it +was thick chocolate she liked) and break into society. His one discussion +of the matter with her was a bitter experience. + +“Holy Mary!” she exclaimed in her shrill Spanish, when he broached a plan +of retrenchment, “What a son I have! You spend thousands on yourself, +chasing women and buying automobiles, and now you want us to spend the +rest of our lives in this old house and walk to church so that you can +make it up. God, but men are selfish!” + +He saw that if he tried to save money and make a fight for his lands he +would have to struggle not only with MacDougall and the weather, but with +two ignorant, ambitious and sharp-tongued women. And family pride here +fought against him. He did not want to see his women folk go shabbily in +the town. He wanted them to have their brick house and their tea parties, +and to uphold the name of Delcasar as well as they might. + +One day while he was still struggling with his problem he went to look at +a ranch that was offered for sale in the valley a few miles north of town. +It was this place more than anything else which decided him. The old house +had been built by one of his ancestors almost a hundred years before, and +had then been the seat of an estate which embraced all the valley and +_mesa_ lands for miles in every direction. It had changed hands several +times and there were now but a few hundred acres. The woodwork of the +house was in bad repair, but its adobe walls, three feet thick, were firm +as ever. There were still traces of the adobe stockade behind it, with +walls ten feet high, and the building which had housed the _peones_ was +still standing, now filled with fragrant hay. In front of it stood an old +cedar post with rusty iron rings to which the recalcitrant field hands had +been bound for beating. + +Every detail of this home of his forefathers stirred his emotions. The +ancient cottonwood trees in front of the house with their deep, welcome +shade and the soft voices of courting doves among the leaves; the alfalfa +fields heavy with purple blossom, ripe for cutting; the orchard of old +apple trees and thickets of Indian plum run wild; the neglected vineyard +that could be made to yield several barrels of red wine—all of these +things spoke to him with subtle voices. To trade his heritage for this was +to trade hope and hazard for monotonous ease; but with the smell of the +yielding earth in his nostrils, he no more thought of this than a man in +love thinks of the long restraints and irks of marriage when the kiss of +his woman is on his lips. + + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVI + + +Ramon’s life on his farm quickly fell into a routine that was for the most +part pleasant. He hired an old woman to do his cooking and washing, and a +man to work on the place. Other men he hired as he needed them, and he +spent most of his days working with them as a foreman. + +He attended to the business of farming ably. The trees of the old orchard +he pruned and sprayed and he set out new ones. He put his idle land under +irrigation and planted it in corn and alfalfa. He set out beds of +strawberries and asparagus. He bought blooded livestock and chickens. He +put his fences in repair and painted the woodwork of his house. The +creative energy that was in him had at last found an outlet which was +congenial though somewhat picayune. For the place was small and easily +handled. As the fall came on, and his crops had been gathered and the work +of irrigation was over for the season, he found himself looking about +restlessly for something to do. On Saturday nights he generally went to +town, had dinner with his mother and sister, and spent the evening +drinking beer and playing pool. But he felt increasingly out of place in +the town; his visits there were prompted more by filial duty and the need +of something to break the monotony of his week than by a real sense of +pleasure in them. + +He was still caring for Catalina on the ranch up the valley, and when the +woman who had been doing his work left him, he decided to bring the girl +to his place and let her earn her keep by cooking and washing. He no +longer felt any interest in her, and thought that perhaps she would marry +Juan Cardenas, the man who milked his cows and chopped wood for him. But +Catalina showed no interest in Juan. Instead, she emphatically rejected +all his advances, and displayed an abject, squaw-like devotion to Ramon’s +welfare. Everything possible was done for his comfort without his asking. +The infant, now almost a year old, was trained not to cry in his presence, +and acquired a certain awe of him, watching him with large solemn eyes +whenever he was about. Ramon, reflecting that this was his son, set out to +make the baby’s acquaintance, and became quite fond of it. He often played +with it in the evening. + +He paid Catalina regular wages and she spent most of the money on clothes. +When she prepared herself for Church on Sunday she was a truly terrible +spectacle, clad in an ill-fitting ready-made suit of brilliant colour, and +wearing a cheap hat on which a dead parrot sprawled among artificial +poppies, while her swarthy face, heavily powdered, took on a purple tinge. +But about the place, dressed in clean calico, with a shawl over her +shoulders, she was really pretty. Her figure was a good one of peasant +type, and the acquisition of some shoes which fitted her revealed the fact +that she had inherited from her remote Castilian ancestry a small and +shapely foot and ankle. + +Ramon could not help noticing all of these things, and so gradually he +became aware of Catalina again as a desirable woman, and one whom it was +easy for him to take. + +After this his animal contentment was deeper than ever. He did not go to +town so often, for one of the restlessnesses which had driven him there +was removed. Often for weeks at a stretch he would not go at all unless it +was necessary to get some tools or supplies for the farm. Then rather than +take any of his men away from work, he would himself hitch up a team and +drive the five miles. Sitting hunched over on the spring-seat of a big +farm wagon, clad in overalls and a print shirt, with a wide hat tilted +against the sun and a cigarette dangling from his lips, he was +indistinguishable from any other _paisano_ on the road. This change in +appearance was helped by the fact that he had grown a heavy moustache. +Often, as he drove through the streets of the town, he would pass +acquaintances who did not recognize him, and he was just as well satisfied +that they did not. + +As is the way of unreflecting men, Ramon formed no definite opinion of his +life, but liked it more or less according to the mood that was in him. +There were bright, cool days that fall when, lacking work to do, he took +his shot-gun and a saddle horse and went for long rambles. Sometimes he +would follow the river northward, stalking the flocks of teal and mallards +that dozed on the sandbars in the wide, muddy stream, perhaps killing +three or four fat birds. Other times he went to the foot of the mountains +and hunted the blue quail and cotton tail rabbits in the arroyos of the +foot-hills. Once he and his man loaded a wagon with food and blankets and +drove forty miles to a canyon where they killed a big black-tail buck, and +brought him back in high triumph. + +Returning from such trips full of healthy hunger and weariness, to find +his hot supper and his woman waiting for him, Ramon would doze off +happily, every want of his physical being satisfied, feeling that life was +good.… But there were other nights when a strange restlessness possessed +him, when he lay miserably awake through long dark hours. The silence of +the black valley was emphasized now and then by the doleful voices of dogs +that answered each other across the sleeping miles. At such times he felt +as though he had been caught in a trap. He saw in imagination the endless +unvaried chain of his days stretching before him, and he rebelled against +it and knew not how to break it. His experience of life was comparatively +little and he was no philosopher. He did not know definitely either what +was the matter with him or what he wanted. But he had tasted high +aspiration, and desire bright and transforming, and wild sweet joy.… These +things had been taken away, and now life narrowed steadily before him like +a blind canyon that pierces a mountain range. The trail at the bottom was +easy enough to follow, but the walls drew ever closer and became more +impassable, and what was the end?… + + + +This sense of dissatisfaction reached its futile crux one day in the +spring when he received a letter from Julia—the last he was ever to get. +The sight and scent of it stirred him as they always had done, filling him +with poignant painful memories. + +“This is really the last time I’ll ever bother you,” she wrote, “but I do +want to know what has happened to you, and how you feel about things. I +can’t forget. All our troubles seem to have worn some sort of a permanent +groove in my poor brain, and I believe the thought of you will be there +till the day of my death. + +“As, for me, I’m in society up to my eyes, and absolutely without the +courage or energy to climb out. Those days in New York were the first and +the last of my freedom. Now I’ve been introduced to everybody, and I have +an engagement book that tells me what I’m going to do whether I want to or +not for three weeks ahead. I’m a model of conduct and propriety for the +simple reason that I can’t travel over a block without everybody that I +know finding out about it. + +“Of course it hasn’t all been a bore. I have had some fun, and I’ve met +some really interesting people. I’ve gotten used to being married and my +husband treats me kindly and gives me a good home. Sounds as if I was a +kitten, doesn’t it? Well, I have very much the same sort of life as a +kitten, but a kitten has no imagination and it has never been in love. +Sometimes I think that I can’t stand it any longer. It seems to me that +I’m not really living, as I used to imagine I would, but just being +dragged through life by circumstances and other people—I don’t know what +all. I still have desperate plans and ideas once in a while, but of +course, I never do anything. When you come right down to it, what can I +do?” + +Ramon read this letter sitting on the sunny side of his house with his +heels under him and his back against the wall—a position any Mexican can +hold for hours. When he had finished it he sat motionless for a long time, +painfully going over the past, trying ineptly to discover what had been +the matter with it. More acutely than ever before he felt the cruel +guerdon of youth—the contrast between the promise of life and its +fulfillment. He felt that he ought to do something, that he ought not to +submit. But somehow all the doors that led out of his present narrow way +into wider fields seemed closed. There was no longer any entrancing vista +to tempt him. Mentally he repeated her query, What could he do? + +His thoughts went round and round and got nowhere. The spring sunshine +soaked into his body. A faint hum of early insects lulled him, and to his +nostrils came the scent of new-turned earth and manure from the garden +where his man was working. He grew drowsy; his dissatisfaction simmered +down to a vague ache in the background of his consciousness. Idly he tore +the letter to little bits. + + + + THE END + + + + + + + EXTRA PAGES + + + + + _The Blood of _ + _the Conquerors_ + + + + +_ _ +_ NEW BORZOI NOVELS_ +_ _ +_ FALL, 1921_ +_ _ + + PAN +_ Knut Hamsun_ + DREAMERS +_ Knut Hamsun_ + THE TORTOISE +_ Mary Borden_ + THE CHINA SHOP +_ G. B. Stern_ + THE BRIARY-BUSH +_ Floyd Dell_ + DEADLOCK +_ Dorothy Richardson_ + THE OTHER MAGIC +_ E. L. Grant-Watson_ + WHITE SHOULDERS +_ George Kibbe Turner_ + THE CHARMED CIRCLE +_ Edward Alden Jewell_ + THE BLOOD OF THE CONQUERORS +_ Harvey __ __Fergusson_ + + + + + _The Blood of _ + _the Conquerors_ + + + + + + ERRATA + + + CHAPTER II + Changed: they were *untamable*, but boys + To: they were *untameable*, but boys + + CHAPTER II + Changed: adventures were *comoposed* and sung + To: adventures were *composed* and sung + + CHAPTER IV + Changed: your name,” she admitted*,* + To: your name,” she admitted*.* + + CHAPTER V + Changed: only all-night *resturant*. Here he + To: only all-night *restaurant*. Here he + + CHAPTER VII + Changed: haunted by lizzards and rattlesnakes. + To: haunted by *lizards* and rattlesnakes. + + CHAPTER VIII + Changed: CHAPTER VIII*.* + To: CHAPTER VIII* * + + CHAPTER XI + Changed: the game*,* But the + To: the game*.* But the + + CHAPTER XV + Changed: nights they *visted* the town’s + To: nights they *visited* the town’s + + CHAPTER XIX + Changed: saved from *furthur* punishment. Meantime, + To: saved from *further* punishment. Meantime, + + CHAPTER XXXI + Changed: own living.… *Its* not fair. + To: own living.… *It’s* not fair. + + CHAPTER XXXII + Changed: of course* *” she added + To: of course*,*” she added + + CHAPTER XXXII + Changed: * *For Heaven’s sake, say something!” + To: *“*For Heaven’s sake, say something!” + + Page 2 + Changed: Harvey *Furgusson* + To: Harvey *Fergusson* + + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLOOD OF THE CONQUERORS*** + + + +CREDITS + + +Febraury 23, 2007 + + Project Gutenberg Edition + Roland Schlenker and + Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +A WORD FROM PROJECT GUTENBERG + + +This file should be named 20888-0.txt or 20888-0.zip. + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + + + http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/8/8/20888/ + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one — the old editions will be +renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one +owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and +you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission +and without paying copyright royalties. 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