244 OBSERVATIONS OF A RANCHWOMAN 



situated, even as the modern city is, between 

 lofty mountains the gateway at once of Old 

 and New Mexico and of Texas. Along this 

 broad vale, finding comparatively smooth and 

 easy travelling beside the Great River, the 

 feet of bygone generations, * whose bones 

 are dust,' have passed and passed again, 

 within sight and sound of my brown ranch- 

 house ; nay, even perhaps through its 

 orchards and meadows, so changeful has 

 been the river's bed. 



Three hundred years ago and more, Indian 

 tribes rejoiced in the fertility of a valley 

 which satisfied their limited wants at cost of 

 so slight an expenditure of tissue, and after 

 them the Mexicans rejoice in much the same 

 spirit. But the Indians had one resource 

 which has somehow failed us of a later 

 generation. When the Rio Grande played 

 them false, there was for them no sitting 

 down in resignation after the American 

 manner, no folding of the hands to sleep 

 after the Mexican manner, but instead they 

 uprose as one man, and, having slain a young 

 virgin in order to propitiate the god of waters, 

 confidently awaited results. At this point 



