146 LIFE IN THE FAE WEST. 



tial bow, asked his directions concerning domestic "business 

 of the Mission. 



" Hola ! friend Jose," cried Fray Augustin, in a thick 

 guttural voice, " pensaba yo I was thinking that it was 

 very nearly this time three years ago when those malditos 

 Americanos came by here and ran off with so many of our 

 cavallada." 



"True, reverend father," answered the administrador, 

 "just three years ago, all but fifteen days : I remember it 

 well. Malditos scan curse them ! " 



" How many did we kill, Jose* ? " 



"Quizas moochos a great many, I daresay. But they 

 did not fight fairly charged right upon us, and gave us no 

 time to do anything. They don't know how to fight, these 

 Mericanos ; come right at you, before you can swing a 

 lasso, hallooing like Indios Bravos." 



"But, Jose", how many did they leave dead on the field?" 



" Not one." 



And we ? 



" Valgame Dios ! thirteen dead, and many more 

 wounded." 



" That's it ! Now if these savages come again (and the 

 Chemeguaba, who came in yesterday, says he saw a large 

 trail), we must fight adentro within outside is no go ; 

 for, as you very properly say, Jose, these Americans don't 

 know how to fight, and kill us before before we can kill 

 them ! Vaya ! " 



At this moment there issued from the door of the Mission 

 Don Antonio Velez Trueba, a Gachupin that is, a native 

 of Old Spain a wizened old hidalgo refugee, who had left 

 the mother country on account of his political opinions, 

 which were stanchly Carlist, and had found his way how, 

 he himself scarcely knew from Mexico to San Francisco 

 in Upper California, where, having a most perfect contempt 

 for everything Mexican, and hearing that in the Mission of 

 San Fernando, far away, were a couple of Spanish padres 

 of " sangre regular," he had started into the wilderness to 

 ferret them out ; and having escaped all dangers on the 

 route (which, however, were hardly dangers to the Don, 



