the outdoor life, and the excitement of hunting, of which he was fond.
This hot-spring canon was only a short distance from the Saboba village,
of which they had spoken as a possible home; which she had from the
first desired to try. She no longer had repugnance to the thought of an
Indian village; she already felt a sense of kinship and shelter with any
Indian people. She had become, as Carmena had said, "one of them."

A few days saw the two families settled,--the Hyers in their tent and
wagon, at the hot springs, and Alessandro and Ramona, with the baby, in
a little adobe house in the Saboba village. The house belonged to an
old Indian woman who, her husband having died, had gone to live with
a daughter, and was very glad to get a few dollars by renting her own
house. It was a wretched place; one small room, walled with poorly made
adobe bricks, thatched with tule, no floor, and only one window. When
Alessandro heard Ramona say cheerily, "Oh, this will do very well, when
it is repaired a little," his face was convulsed, and he turned away;
but he said nothing. It was the only house to be had in the village,
and there were few better. Two months later, no one would have known it.
Alessandro had had good luck in hunting. Two fine deerskins covered the
earth floor; a third was spread over the bedstead; and the horns, hung
on the walls, served for hooks to hang clothes upon. The scarlet calico
canopy was again set up over the bed, and the woven cradle, on its red
manzanita frame, stood near. A small window in the door, and one more
cut in the walls, let in light and air. On a shelf near one of these
windows stood the little Madonna, again wreathed with vines as in San
Pasquale.

When Aunt Ri first saw the room, after it was thus arranged, she put
both arms akimbo, and stood in the doorway, her mouth wide open, her
eyes full of wonder. Finally her wonder framed itself in an ejaculation:
"Wall, I allow yer air fixed up!"

Aunt Ri, at her best estate, had never possessed a room which had
the expression of this poor little mud hut of Ramona's. She could not
understand it. The more she studied the place, the less she understood
it. On returning to the tent, she said to Jos: "It beats all ever I
see, the way thet Injun woman's got fixed up out er nothin'. It ain't no
more'n a hovel, a mud hovel, Jos, not much bigger'n this yer tent, fur
all three on 'em, an' the bed an' the stove an' everythin'; an' I vow,
Jos, she's fixed i