all and slept
until discovered and awakened after dawn by one of Turley's mill hands,
who paid them a timid and genuine respect.

They loafed around all day, watching the still house with eager eyes.
Their wordless pleading was in vain, however, for Turley, frankly
scowling at their first appearance, totally ignored them thereafter.
Just before dusk two half-civilized Arapahoes from St. Vrain's South
Platte trading post swung down the mountain side, cast avaricious eyes
on some horses in the pasture, sniffed deeply at the still house, and
asked for whiskey.

"I'll give ye whiskey," said Turley after a moment's thought, a grin
spreading over his face, "but I won't give it ter ye hyar. If ye want
likker I'll give ye a writin' ter my agent in Santer Fe, an' he'll give
ye all yer porous skins kin hold, an' a jug ter take away with ye."

"_Si, senor! Si, senor! Muchos gracias!_"

"Hold on thar! Hold yer hosses!" growled Turley. "Ye don't reckon I'm
makin' ye no present, do ye? Ye got ter earn that likker. If ye want it
bad enough ter escort my _atejo_ ter th' city, it's yourn. I'm combin'
my hosses outer th' brush, an' I'm short-handed. By gosh!" he chuckled,
smiling broadly.

"Thar's a couple more thirsty Injuns 'round hyar, some'rs; hey, Jacques!
Go find them watch dogs o' th' still house. They won't be fur away, you
kin bet. These two an' them shore will scare th' thieves plumb ter death
all th' way ter town. I kin feel _my_ ha'r move!"

Jacques returned shortly with Bent's thirsty hirelings, and after some
negotiations and the promise of horses for them to ride, the Indians
accepted his offer. They showed a little reluctance until he had given
each of them a drink of his raw, new whiskey, which seemed to serve as
fuel to feed a fire already flaming. The bargain struck, he ordered them
fed and let them sleep on the softest bit of ground they could find
around the rancho.

CHAPTER XVIII

SANTA FE

After an early breakfast the _atejo_ of nineteen mules besides the
_mulera_, or bell mule, was brought out of the pasture and the
_aparejos_, leather bags stuffed with hay, thrown on their backs and
cinched fast with wide belts of woven sea-grass, which were drawn so
cruelly tight that they seemed almost to cut the animals in two; this
cruelty was a necessary one and saved them greater cruelties by holding
the packs from slipping and chafing them to the bone. Groaning from the
tightness of the cinches they sto