THE MEXICAN IN NEW MEXICO 31 



kicking his half-starved pony in the stomach 

 for some imbecility of his own, or digging 

 the terrible Spanish spur into its bare ribs, 

 its poor little back and legs bending and 

 quivering beneath the weight of two of him 

 as it is raced at a gallop through the deep 

 sand, does not commend himself as an object 

 of romance. Personally, I find it difficult to 

 sentimentalize over a race, the large pro- 

 portion of which is brutal beyond the manner 

 of other races to its beasts. It has been 

 well said that the man who is cruel to dumb 

 animals will bear watching. The Mexican 

 will bear watching. Anyone who can, for 

 instance, observe a Mexican at the plough- 

 tail for five minutes without * losing his 

 religion ' must either be a stoic or a saint 

 the former for choice. If the low-crested, 

 dull-eyed, slouch-tailed, jammed-shouldered 

 equine ' sons of the sage-brush ' are often as 

 bad-tempered as they are hardy and endur- 

 ing, a slight acquaintance with their environ- 

 ment, past and present, explains their attitude 

 to their world as well as the figure they cut 

 in it. To one, however, straight from Ken- 

 tucky or Virginia, either of which States 



