14 THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 



fered theirs during the great world war. 



No long- term of years, therefore, had elapsed on 

 my first settling in the Valley since the Apaches 

 had made life frightful for its inhabitants, protect- 

 ed though the Valley was by* two army posts. In 

 another place it will be told from whence this tribal 

 nation obtained its frightfulness. Neither was the 

 Mexican, bred up in mortal terror as he was of the 

 Apache, an entirely collected and reliable person. 

 When full of red wine occasions arose — nay, still 

 arise — on which his feelings were too many for 

 him. Ponies are scarce and feed high in these later 

 days, or no doubt he would still on Saturday nights 

 be racing in dozens instead of in twos and threes 

 along- the country roads, screeching, and maybe fir- 

 ing a six shooter into empty air. An innocuous 

 method of blowing off superfluous emotions, it may 

 be said, so long as sheriff or deputy prefers not 

 to hear him, but it robs the householder of the sleep 

 of peace. But there was a time when the youthful 

 peon was not quite such a harmless idiot ; for the 

 first thing- a Mexican of the least intelligent variety 

 does when scared or excited is to shoot, and 

 this unpleasant habit often got him into trouble with 

 his more wily and self-controlled Indian kinsman. 



Nevertheless it is the Indian in the Mexican 

 which preserves in him, not only his picturesque 

 qualities but others more desirable yet. To this sub- 

 ject allusion will be made later. Our first powerful 

 impression of the Indian touch was received one 

 Sunday afternoon when without warning we came 

 on a scene seething with a primeval something that 



