IN THE OLD WEST 255 



into a perfect frenzy, " I will slay these Norte 

 Americanos, should they dare to show their faces 

 in my front. Adios, Don Augustin Ignacio 

 Sabanal-Morales-y Fuentes," he cried, doffing his 

 hat with an earth-sweeping bow ; " I go to grind 

 my sword. Till then, adieu." 



" A countryman of mine 1 " said the frayle, ad- 

 miringly, to the administrador. " With him by 

 our side we need not to fear : neither Norte Ameri- 

 canos, nor the devil himself, can harm us when he 

 is by." 



Whilst the Trueba sharpens his Tizona, and 

 the priest puffs volumes of smoke from his nose 

 and mouth, let us introduce to the reader one of 

 the muchachitas, who knelt grinding corn on the 

 metate, to make tortillas for the evening meal. 

 Juanita was a stout wench from Sonora, of Mex- 

 ican blood, hardly as dark as the other women who 

 surrounded her, and with a drop or two of the 

 Old Spanish blood struggling with the darker In- 

 dian tint to color her plump cheeks. An enagua 

 (a short petticoat) of red serge was confined 

 round her waist by a gay band ornamented with 

 beads, and a chemisette covered the upper part of 

 the body, permitting, however, a prodigal dis- 

 play of her charms. Whilst pounding sturdily at 

 the corn, she laughed and joked with her fellow- 

 laborers upon the anticipated American attack, 

 which appeared to have but few terrors for her. 

 " Que vengan," she exclaimed — " let them come ; 



