alajara, drifting from the saloon to the restaurant, and from the
restaurant to the Plaza, relics of a former generation, standing for a
different order of things, absolutely idle, living God knew how, happy
with their cigarette, their guitar, their glass of mescal, and their
siesta. The centenarian remembered Fremont and Governor Alvarado, and
the bandit Jesus Tejeda, and the days when Los Muertos was a Spanish
grant, a veritable principality, leagues in extent, and when there
was never a fence from Visalia to Fresno. Upon this occasion, Presley
offered the old man a drink of mescal, and excited him to talk of the
things he remembered. Their talk was in Spanish, a language with which
Presley was familiar.

"De La Cuesta held the grant of Los Muertos in those days," the
centenarian said; "a grand man. He had the power of life and death over
his people, and there was no law but his word. There was no thought of
wheat then, you may believe. It was all cattle in those days, sheep,
horses--steers, not so many--and if money was scarce, there was always
plenty to eat, and clothes enough for all, and wine, ah, yes, by the
vat, and oil too; the Mission Fathers had that. Yes, and there was wheat
as well, now that I come to think; but a very little--in the field north
of the Mission where now it is the Seed ranch; wheat fields were there,
and also a vineyard, all on Mission grounds. Wheat, olives, and the
vine; the Fathers planted those, to provide the elements of the Holy
Sacrament--bread, oil, and wine, you understand. It was like that, those
industries began in California--from the Church; and now," he put his
chin in the air, "what would Father Ullivari have said to such a crop
as Senor Derrick plants these days? Ten thousand acres of wheat! Nothing
but wheat from the Sierra to the Coast Range. I remember when De La
Cuesta was married. He had never seen the young lady, only her miniature
portrait, painted"--he raised a shoulder--"I do not know by whom, small,
a little thing to be held in the palm. But he fell in love with that,
and marry her he would. The affair was arranged between him and the
girl's parents. But when the time came that De La Cuesta was to go to
Monterey to meet and marry the girl, behold, Jesus Tejeda broke in upon
the small rancheros near Terrabella. It was no time for De La Cuesta to
be away, so he sent his brother Esteban to Monterey to marry the girl by
proxy for him. I went with Esteban. We were a compa