IN THE OLD WEST 



by here and ran off with so many of our caval- 

 lada." 



" True, reverend father," answered the admin- 

 istrator, " just three years ago, all but fifteen 

 days : I remember it well. Malditos sean — curse 

 them ! " 



" How many did we kill, Jose? " 



" Quizas mdoclios — 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 hravosJ^ 



" 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 prop- 

 erly 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 Gachu- 

 pin — that is, a native of Old Spain — a wizened 

 old hidalgo refugee, who had left the mother coun- 



