The Black Lion Inn

when a gent abhors anything, that is a Caucasian gent, you-all can gamble the limit he won't do it jes

he paleface is overbearin' an' insolent, an' because he's the gamest fighter he allows he's app'inted of Providence to prance 'round, tyrannizin

ntist like Peets an' the science in him sort o' submerges an' drowns out what you-all might term the racial notions native to the hooman soil. They comes to concloosions dispassionate, that a-way, scientists does; an' Mexicans

r or five Greasers to screech an' herd an' chunk up the anamiles they goes stampedin' back'ard an' for'ard on their sandy river-bottom fields-the same bein' about as big as a saddle blanket-an' they calls that plowin'. They sows the grain as they plows, sort o' scratches it in; an' when it comes up they don't cut it none same as we-all harvests a crop. No; they ain't capable of sech wisdom. They pulls it up by the roots an' ties it in bundles. Then they sweeps off a clean spot of earth like the floor of one of these yere brickyards an' covers it with the grain same as if it's a big mat. Thar's a corral constructed 'round it of

with a stone rollin'-pin in a stone trough; how they grinds coffee by wroppin' it in a gunny sack an' beati

any holidays, Mexicans does, they ain't hardly left no time for work. They're

dles is examples of listless abstraction to 'em. With sech weepons, too, as guitars an' fiddles an' a gourd half-full of gravel to shake an' beat out the time, they can make the

ace is about, lapses into shyness an' timidity same as one of these yere cottontail rabbits. But among themse'fs, when they feels onbuckled an' at home, their play runs off plenty different. Th

ghts from Vegas to the Canadian over the old Fort Bascom trail. One of the mules-the nigh

friendly; an' has twinklin' beady eyes like a rattlesnake; the big difference bein' that the padre's eyes is full of fun, w

ch the steel gaffs, drop-socket they be an' of latest sort, is in his pocket-an' as I goes squanderin' along in his company, he informs me that followin' the services thar'll be a fight between his chicken a

t's shore lively carnage; yes, the padre's bird

t him ag'in the world for two dollars a side. At that another enthoosiast gives notice that if the first parishioner will pinch dow

out their beads an' begins to pray to beat four of a kind. Shore, they're prayin' that their partic'lar chicken 'll win. Still, when I considers that about as many Greasers is thr

n. At that the opposition grabs up his bird an' appeals to the padre. He cha

Also, he admits that he hides the gaffs onder the altar cloth do

' the church-to teach the holy-water sharp that yereafter he's not to go seizin' onfair advantages, an' to lead a happier an' a better life. That c

. The padre su'gests that we go a-weavin' over to his own camp, which he refers to as Casa Dolores-though thar's nothin' dolorous about it, the same bein' the home of mirth an' hilarity, that a-way-an' he allows he's got some Valley Tan hived up that'll make me forget my nationality if stood

he Plaza Chaparita. This figger is about four foot long, an' thar's a hossha'r lariat looped onto it where them Mexicans who gets malcontent with the saint

nt; more partic'lar since the image is all alone, an' the outfit that's been beatin' him up has abandoned said corrections to drink pulque an' exercise their moccasins in the baile. But the padre shakes his head. He allows it's a heap better to let the publi

e pawin' about to protect a saint. These yere images," he insists, "can look aft

ide herd on the interests of the Plaza Chaparita; an' if he goes to sleep on the lookout's stool an' takes to neglectin' sech plays as them sheep gettin' sick, whatever is the Greasers goin' to do? Th

The padre an' me is over to the dance-hall followin' our investigations touchin' the Valley Tan an' the pa

much; if you let them drink, they drink too much. The evil of the Americano is that he overplays. It is not so with the Mexicano. If the Mexicano gambles, it is only a trifle an' for pleasure; if he drinks, it is but enough to free a bird'

been drinkin' his Valley Tan I don't enter no protests to what he states. From w

, she's pretty. As she crosses in front of the padre she stops an' sort o' drops down on one knee with her head bowed. The padre blesses her an' calls her "Chiquita;" then s

girl is pretty, too; but her shawl ain't over her head an' she an' her muc

on your hands," I says to the padre,

in' to himse'f. With that he organizes like he's goi

tter than me. The padre's hardly moved when it looks like the senorita Chiquita saveys he's out to head her off. With that she crosses

trail. Thar's not a scream, not a word; that entire baile stands transfixed. As the padre raises the little Chi-quita's head, I se

eman, reaching for the Scotch whiskey as though for comfort's sake. "And st

ich they're like Injuns; they improves a lot by distance. An' they has their strong p'ints, too; gratitoode is one. You-all confer a favor on

d to meet their reward. It's what the squaws tells the papooses to make 'em kind." Then to

fident, and readily told us