inclined to meet it. He was weary of struggle. He saw before him a long
slow fight to get on his feet again, with the chance of ultimate failure
if he had another bad year.

The Mexicans firmly believe, in the face of much evidence to the contrary,
that seven wet years are always followed by seven dry ones. He had heard
the saying gravely repeated many times. He more than half believed it. And
he knew that for a good many years, perhaps as many as six or seven, the
rains had been remarkably good. He was intelligent, but superstition was
bred in his bones. Like all men of a primitive type he had a strong
tendency to believe in fortune as a deliberate force in the affairs of
men. It seemed clear to him now, in his depressed and exhausted condition,
that bad luck had marked him for its prey.

CHAPTER XXXV

His forebodings were confirmed in detail the next morning when Cortez came
into his office, his face wrinkled with worry and darkened by exposure to
the weather. He was angry too.

"_Por Dios_, man! To go off like that and not even leave me an address. If
I could have gotten more money to hire men I might have saved some of them
{~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} yes, more than half of the lambs died, and many of the ewes. There is
nothing to do now. They are on the best of the range, and it has begun to
rain in the mountains. But it is too bad. It cost you many thousands {~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~}
that trip to New York."

Ramon gave Cortez a cigar to soothe his sensibilities, thanked him with
dignity for his loyal services, and sent him away. Then he put on his hat
and went outside to walk and think.

The town seemed to him quiet as though half-deserted. This was partly by
contrast with the place of din which he had just left, and partly because
this was the dull season, when the first hot spell of summer drove many
away from the town and kept those who remained in their houses most of the
day. The sandy streets caught the sun and cherished it in a merciless
glare. They were baked so hot that barefoot urchins hopped gingerly from
one patch of shade to the next. In the numerous vacant lots rank jungles
of weeds languished in the dry heat, and long blue-tailed lizards,
veritable heat-sprites, emerged to frolic and doze on deserted sidewalks.
The leaves of the cottonwoods hung limp, and the white downy tufts that
carried their seeds everywhere drifted and swam in the shimmering air. The
rive