按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
elevation toward the horizon； and presently my progress was impeded
by the ascent of an Indian mound。 It struck me forcibly as
resembling an island in the sea。 Its height gave me a better view
of the expanding plain。 But even here I found no rest。 The
ridiculous interpretation Tryan had given the climate was somehow
sung in my ears； and echoed in my throbbing pulse as； guided by the
star； I sought the house again。
But I felt fresher and more natural as I stepped upon the platform。
The door of the lower building was open； and the old man was
sitting beside the table； thumbing the leaves of a Bible with a
look in his face as though he were hunting up prophecies against
the 〃Greaser。〃 I turned to enter； but my attention was attracted
by a blanketed figure lying beside the house； on the platform。 The
broad chest heaving with healthy slumber； and the open； honest face
were familiar。 It was George； who had given up his bed to the
stranger among his people。 I was about to wake him； but he lay so
peaceful and quiet； I felt awed and hushed。 And I went to bed with
a pleasant impression of his handsome face and tranquil figure
soothing me to sleep。
I was awakened the next morning from a sense of lulled repose and
grateful silence by the cheery voice of George； who stood beside my
bed； ostentatiously twirling a riata； as if to recall the duties of
the day to my sleep…bewildered eyes。 I looked around me。 The wind
had been magically laid； and the sun shone warmly through the
windows。 A dash of cold water； with an extra chill on from the tin
basin； helped to brighten me。 It was still early； but the family
had already breakfasted and dispersed； and a wagon winding far in
the distance showed that the unfortunate Tom had already 〃packed〃
his relatives away。 I felt more cheerfulthere are few troubles
Youth cannot distance with the start of a good night's rest。 After
a substantial breakfast； prepared by George； in a few moments we
were mounted and dashing down the plain。
We followed the line of alder that defined the creek； now dry and
baked with summer's heat； but which in winter； George told me；
overflowed its banks。 I still retain a vivid impression of that
morning's ride； the far…off mountains； like silhouettes； against
the steel…blue sky； the crisp dry air； and the expanding track
before me； animated often by the well…knit figure of George Tryan；
musical with jingling spurs and picturesque with flying riata。 He
rode powerful native roan； wild…eyed； untiring in stride and
unbroken in nature。 Alas！ the curves of beauty were concealed by
the cumbrous MACHILLAS of the Spanish saddle； which levels all
equine distinctions。 The single rein lay loosely on the cruel bit
that can gripe； and if need be； crush the jaw it controls。
Again the illimitable freedom of the valley rises before me； as we
again bear down into sunlit space。 Can this be 〃Chu Chu；〃 staid
and respectable filly of American pedigreeChu Chu； forgetful of
plank roads and cobblestones； wild with excitement； twinkling her
small white feet beneath me？ George laughs out of a cloud of dust。
〃Give her her head； don't you see she likes it？〃 and Chu Chu seems
to like it； and whether bitten by native tarantula into native
barbarism or emulous of the roan； 〃blood〃 asserts itself； and in a
moment the peaceful servitude of years is beaten out in the music
of her clattering hoofs。 The creek widens to a deep gully。 We
dive into it and up on the opposite side； carrying a moving cloud
of impalpable powder with us。 Cattle are scattered over the plain；
grazing quietly or banded together in vast restless herds。 George
makes a wide； indefinite sweep with the riata； as if to include
them all in his vaquero's loop； and says； 〃Ours！〃
〃About how many； George？〃
〃Don't know。〃
〃How many？〃
〃'Well； p'r'aps three thousand head；〃 says George； reflecting。 〃We
don't know； takes five men to look 'em up and keep run。〃
〃What are they worth？〃
〃About thirty dollars a head。〃
I make a rapid calculation； and look my astonishment at the
laughing George。 Perhaps a recollection of the domestic economy of
the Tryan household is expressed in that look； for George averts
his eye and says； apologetically：
〃I've tried to get the old man to sell and build； but you know he
says it ain't no use to settle down； just yet。 We must keep
movin'。 In fact； he built the shanty for that purpose； lest titles
should fall through； and we'd have to get up and move stakes
further down。〃
Suddenly his quick eye detects some unusual sight in a herd we are
passing； and with an exclamation he puts his roan into the center
of the mass。 I follow； or rather Chu Chu darts after the roan； and
in a few moments we are in the midst of apparently inextricable
horns and hoofs。 〃TORO！〃 shouts George； with vaquero enthusiasm；
and the band opens a way for the swinging riata。 I can feel their
steaming breaths； and their spume is cast on Chu Chu's quivering
flank。
Wild； devilish…looking beasts are they； not such shapes as Jove
might have chosen to woo a goddess； nor such as peacefully range
the downs of Devon； but lean and hungry Cassius…like bovines；
economically got up to meet the exigencies of a six months'
rainless climate； and accustomed to wrestle with the distracting
wind and the blinding dust。
〃That's not our brand；〃 says George； 〃they're strange stock；〃 and
he points to what my scientific eye recognizes as the astrological
sign of Venus deeply seared in the brown flanks of the bull he is
chasing。 But the herd are closing round us with low mutterings；
and George has again recourse to the authoritative 〃TORO；〃 and with
swinging riata divides the 〃bossy bucklers〃 on either side。 When
we are free； and breathing somewhat more easily； I venture to ask
George if they ever attack anyone。
〃Never horsemensometimes footmen。 Not through rage； you know；
but curiosity。 They think a man and his horse are one； and if they
meet a chap afoot； they run him down and trample him under hoof； in
the pursuit of knowledge。 But；〃 adds George； 〃here's the lower
bench of the foothills； and here's Altascar's corral； and that
White building you see yonder is the casa。〃
A whitewashed wall enclosed a court containing another adobe
building； baked with the solar beams of many summers。 Leaving our
horses in the charge of a few peons in the courtyard； who were
basking lazily in the sun； we entered a low doorway； where a deep
shadow and an agreeable coolness fell upon us； as sudden and
grateful as a plunge in cool water； from its contrast with the
external glare and heat。 In the center of a low…ceiled apartment
sat an old man with a black…silk handkerchief tied about his head；
the few gray hairs that escaped from its folds relieving his
gamboge…colored face。 The odor of CIGARRITOS was as incense added
to the cathedral gloom of the building。
As Senor