Prescott High School - Hassayamper Yearbook (Prescott, AZ)

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at the village of Tultepec is a tribe of Indians, who don’t celebrate this Saint. You can perhaps obtain them for next week.” Billy ruminated for a moment on the seriousness of the situation and decided to see to this business himself. “Fifty miles you say, Jose? I know the place but I did not think it was so far. Get my horse ready, and I will start after the siesta.” “Si, Senor,” and Jose leisurely set out to execute his orders. Billy entered the cool patio, and threw himself down in a hammock, where he slept and dreamed of ice-cream sodas and gorditas. At four he roused himself, dressed in fresh, cool, white linen, and treated himself to a shave. “It is well, he reflected, twisting a bright silk handkerchief around his neck, “to appear debonair before these Indians and then, there is Maria. He would stop on his way at her hacienda for adios.” He rode a mile or two along a jungle path, and in the first clearing, drew rein before a large, white house. Maria ran out at his call, and he exclaimed, admiringly: “Why, Maria, you look just like an American beauty!” Maria blushed deeply at this most cherished compliment. “Si, Senor Billy,” she responded naively. “I have here copied the style a la Americana from the book you gave me. My hair is arranged so and this”— “But this rose is still a la Mexicana. You can’t forget that touch, Maria.” “But what brings my estimable Senor to this poor house? Maria questioned eagerly. Is it the fete at Cor- dova?” “Not a fete this time, Maria, but a week’s feast. All my peons have deserted me for a week and I’m off to the moun- tains to get some Indians.” Not to Tultepec, Senor?” “Why not, Maria?” “Ah, Senor. there are the so fierce Indians there, who have never gazed on the face of a white man. They perhaps will kill you.” “I’ll chance it, Maria, if you’ll pray for me; and say,” he added jokingly, “if I don’t return in a week you might come after me, sabe?” Maria smiled after him, as he rode off, but there was an anxious look in her eyes. “But,” she assured herself, “this Senor American, he was so bold, he fear nothing. Per- haps it would be all right. His patron saint would care for him.” 29

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jJatrmt faints |ILLY BARR was in a contemplative mood. He lounged lli against the gallery railing of the hacienda, gazing idly about him, while a half finished cigarette smoked in his listless hand. He was lord of all he surveyed: the acres of fruitful coffee trees, the distant underbrush full of fat cat- tle, and this rambling, old dwelling. The ten years spent in Mexico had been years of peace and plenty, but now he was sick of it all. Luxurious, idle, superstitious Mexico was no place for a live American to waste away in. He longed in his heart for the noise and bustle of Broadway, the gay theatres, and pretty, white women. Maria was here, to be sure. She, of the soulful eyes, and smiling lips, but her peo- ple were not his people, nor her God his God. Poor Maria could not quite forgive the pagan Senor, who had dispossessed two plaster patron saints, and put two purring kittens in their shrines as a little surprise for her pious mother. This life was all very fascinating, but he must leave this country and get back to his own people, while the blood of youth ran warm. Tomorrow the coffee crop would be ready to harvest, and after that he would pack himself off to the States. Today was the first of December; by pushing things he could just make Xew York for Christmas. He had two hundred peons at work for him, who should finish the job in a week. “Senor,” a dulcet voice called up, and Billy, awakening from his reverie, glanced down into the smiling, brown face of his overseer. “What is it, Jose?” “I have the honor to inform the most estimable Senor, that his two hundred unworthy servants cannot perform their duties during the next week.” The devil!” Billy ejaculated, suddenly arousing out of his habitual good nature. “Whose feast is it now?” Jose puffed a moment at his cigarette, then answered blandly, “Tomorrow begins the great feast of our patron saint Luis, then Wednesday is that of his holy Mother. No peon would work this week.” “There would be precious little coffee harvested in Mexico, if more than two hundred and sixty-five of the days were feast days. But it’s up to you, Jose, to attend to this matter,” Billy answered with finality. “But. most estimable Senor, I can do nothing. The men are already leaving for their homes, and will not return for one week. But, Senor, fifty miles into the mountains 28

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And Billy, who never thought twice about patron saints, except as a necessary evil along with fleas, rode gaily along the straggling path. The moon came up making the track bright as. day. Here and there a night-bird called, and, as he ascended the mountain slope, the air grew cool and bracing. Tultepec, according to his compass and map, lay just over the next ridge. He would surely reach it at daybreak. Just as he made the top of the ridge the sun rose up majestically be- hind him. He let the bridle hang over the pinto’s neck, and ambled easily down the mountain path, while he rolled a cigarette. When the task was completed to his satisfaction, he raised his eyes, and let out a long-drawn whistle of sur- prise. Up the mountain path was a surging mass of half- clad Indians, the whole village evidently. Women and children marched ahead, flower-decked and swinging gar- lands. The men brought up the rear in military array, brandishing spears and shouting paens of praise. “Gad, these devils must be out on the war-path. They’re not in their working clothes for coffee picking,” Billy mut- tered under his breath. “Their place of celebrating must be up here somewhere.” He drew rein to let them by but, when the foremost natives were within twenty feet of him, they stopped abruptly, cast down their spears, and bowed low to the ground. The women had approached and strewn their gar- lands around him. While the head man of the party drew near and took the bridle humbly, the entire cortege sur- rounding him. In astonishment, Billy saw himself con- ducted with great ceremony, and the utmost reverence and respect, towards the village. “Gad,” he muttered in surprise, “this is surely a ‘wel- come to our city’ with a vengeance. It must be rather hard on the village if every stranger meets with this reception.” He puzzled over the strange performance for a moment and then the solution dawned on him. Maria had said no white man had ever before visited the village. This was their tribute to the great white race. Well, he’d use his power to the fullest extent. He should be able to obtain the whole village to pick coffee, if he wished. The cortege wound through the streets, and stopped be- fore its chief dwelling, which he was given to understand was his. All this was very flattering to his self esteem, but it was not business. He must set about securing those two hundred Indians. He addressed them in good Spanish, but, at his first words, the natives smiled joyfully, fell upon their faces, and sped away in all directions. Billy tried to look 30