CHAPTER I 

 THE ARRIVAL OF THE TENDERFOOT 



As our train trailed up the Mesilla Valley from 

 El Paso there came into view alfalfa fields, or- 

 chards, vineyards, trees, homes palpably inhabited 

 by "white folks." In short, the vaunted attractions 

 of the Valley were actually materializing. 



After we had alighted at the little station the 

 prospect continued to please. It was midwinter, so 

 the earth was arrayed in shades of drab and brown, 

 but over all was the radiant high altitude sky, and 

 in the centre of the town the twin crimson domes of 

 the Catholic church ; and there was mistletoe on the 

 cottonwoods, its berries pearl white against a back- 

 ground of sapphire, and none to warn the future 

 ranchwoman of its evil nature and its sins. Beyond 

 towered the awful steeps of the Organ Mountains, 

 their jagged spires and pinnacles casting sharp yet 

 aerial shadows in the rarefied atmosphere of nearly 

 four thousand feet above sea level. 



I shall continue to use the term awful steeps in 

 regard to our beloved Organs despite the fact that 

 they are only a paltry ten thousand feet or so above 

 the sea, an elevation disdained by certain other New 

 Mexican mountains. But there is a great deal in 

 appearances, whatever may be adduced to the con- 

 trary. Contour, for example, counts for much and 

 in this respect these shining organ pipes piercing 



