e hind leg and dragged it, bleating in wild terror, to a gallows behind
the house, where he hung it up and skilfully cut its throat, leaving it to
bleat and bleed to death while he wiped his knife and went on talking
volubly with his guest. The occasional visits of Ramon were the most
interesting events in his life, and he always killed a kid to express his
appreciation. Ramon reciprocated with gifts of tobacco and whisky. They
were great friends.

Archulera was a short, muscular Mexican with a swarthy, wrinkled face,
broad but well-cut. His big, thin-lipped mouth showed an amazing disarray
of strong yellow teeth when he smiled. His little black eyes were shrewd
and full of fire. Although he was sixty years old, there was little grey
in the thick black hair that hung almost to his shoulders. He wore a cheap
print shirt and a faded pair of overalls, belted at the waist with a strip
of red wool. His foot-gear consisted of the uppers of a pair of old shoes
with soles of rawhide sewed on moccasin-fashion.

With no more disguise than a red blanket and a grunt Archulera could have
passed for an Indian anywhere, but he made it clear to all that he
regarded himself as a Spanish gentleman. He was descended, like Ramon,
from one of the old families, which had received occasional infusions of
native blood. There was probably more Indian in him than in the young man,
but the chief difference between the two was due to the fact that the
Archuleras had lost most of their wealth a couple of generations before,
so that the old man had come down in the social scale to the condition of
an ordinary goat-herding _pelado_. There are many such fallen aristocrats
among the New Mexican peasantry. Most of them, like Archulera, are
distinguished by their remarkably choice and fluent use of the Spanish
language, and by the formal, eighteenth-century perfection of their
manners, which contrast strangely with the barbaric way of their lives.

The old man was now skinning and butchering the goat with speed and skill.
Nothing was wasted. The hide was flung over a rafter end to dry. The head
was washed and put in a pan, as were the smaller entrails with bits of fat
clinging to them, and the liver and heart. The meat was too fresh to be
eaten tonight, but these things would serve well enough for supper, and he
called to his daughter, Catalina, to come and get them.

The two men soon joined her in the low, whitewashed room, which had hard
mud for a fl