t trail, with a stiff seat and impassive face,
rising and falling rhythmically on an ewe-necked silver-bitted black
brute with a hammer head.

The sleepy people in the little clusters of huts, in the small ranches
near the road, recognized by the headlong sound the charge of the San
Tome silver escort towards the crumbling wall of the city on the Campo
side. They came to the doors to see it dash by over ruts and stones,
with a clatter and clank and cracking of whips, with the reckless rush
and precise driving of a field battery hurrying into action, and the
solitary English figure of the Senor Administrador riding far ahead in
the lead.

In the fenced roadside paddocks loose horses galloped wildly for a
while; the heavy cattle stood up breast deep in the grass, lowing
mutteringly at the flying noise; a meek Indian villager would glance
back once and hasten to shove his loaded little donkey bodily against a
wall, out of the way of the San Tome silver escort going to the sea; a
small knot of chilly leperos under the Stone Horse of the Alameda would
mutter: "Caramba!" on seeing it take a wide curve at a gallop and dart
into the empty Street of the Constitution; for it was considered the
correct thing, the only proper style by the mule-drivers of the San Tome
mine to go through the waking town from end to end without a check in
the speed as if chased by a devil.

The early sunshine glowed on the delicate primrose, pale pink, pale
blue fronts of the big houses with all their gates shut yet, and no face
behind the iron bars of the windows. In the whole sunlit range of empty
balconies along the street only one white figure would be visible
high up above the clear pavement--the wife of the Senor
Administrador--leaning over to see the escort go by to the harbour, a
mass of heavy, fair hair twisted up negligently on her little head, and
a lot of lace about the neck of her muslin wrapper. With a smile to her
husband's single, quick, upward glance, she would watch the whole thing
stream past below her feet with an orderly uproar, till she answered
by a friendly sign the salute of the galloping Don Pepe, the stiff,
deferential inclination with a sweep of the hat below the knee.

The string of padlocked carts lengthened, the size of the escort grew
bigger as the years went on. Every three months an increasing stream of
treasure swept through the streets of Sulaco on its way to the strong
room in the O.S.N. Co.'s building by the h