Prescott High School - Hassayamper Yearbook (Prescott, AZ)

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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

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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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unconcerned, but it was with a bewildered air he turned to inspect his quarters. No sooner was he over the threshold, than he heard a bolt slipped noiselessly behind him. He turned quick as a flash to find the door strongly barred. His pounding on the door was interrupted by a great commotion in the patio, and, glancing out of the small opening that served as window, he saw the place swarming with happy- looking natives, loaded with baskets of fruit and vegetables. They left these and then backing away left Billy once more alone. At night he tried the door, to find it still fastened. Up to this point, he had taken a tolerant view of the situa- tion, finding it vastly amusing, but the matter was getting serious. He turned in. eager for a good night’s sleep, and was awakened by singing and shouting. Forgetting for a moment where he was he sprang to the window. There he saw the natives again filling the courtyard, dancing and chanting, while a squealing pig, tied to the door-latch, helped swell the clamor. His guardian, as he had come to regard his faithful ser- viteur, graciously unbarred the door, thrust the pig aside and permitted him to come out. At his first words the In- dians salaamed and looked at him reverently. He saw they didn’t understand pure Spanish, nor the patois spoken in his own district. “Why the Dickens hadn’t he brought a peon with him, who could talk this Indian jargon,” he grumbled aloud. But, he remembered, now, that he had considered bringing Jose, the only intelligent native on the plantation, with him, but he had rejected the idea, owing to Jose’s lack of sincerity. He was just enough of a rascal to persuade the Indians not to come, and so secure a week’s vacation for himself. The natives either couldn’t or wouldn't understand his expressive pantomime. The friendliness of his hosts was wearing on his good nature, so he made a move to pass them, which was frustrated by a spear presented at his breast. There was nothing to do but await developments, so he sat down wearily on the door-step, and dropped his head de- jectedly into his hands. A sudden stir among the natives made him raise his eyes, and following their gaze, he saw a woman, mounted on a pinto, galloping down the mountain path, he had so lately traversed. A long white plume floated gaily out of a distinctly American hat. as the pink clad figure cantered up to the mass of the Indians. Something seemed strangely familiar about the rider, and, as he looked more sharply, he recognized to his amazed joy—Maria. “Senor,” she called breathlessly, “I am here. I could not wait the week.” 31