rawing more critical attention these days, with the Texan threat
hanging over the settlements along the Pecos and the Rio Grande. Peon
women and Indian squaws regarded the four with apparent approval and as
they left the square and plunged into the poorer section again,
compliments and invitations reached their ears. Hopeless _mozos_, or
ill-paid servants, most of them kept in actual slavery by debts they
never could pay off because of the system of accounting used against
them, regarded the four enviously and yearned for their freedom.

Of the four Indians, a tall, strapping Delaware, stooping to be less
conspicuous, whose face was the dirtiest in the _atejo_, suddenly
stiffened and then forced himself to relax into his former lazy slouch.
The rattle of an imported Dearborn, which at all times had to be watched
closely to keep its metal parts from being stripped off and stolen,
filled the street as the vehicle rocked along the ruts toward them,
drawn by two good horses and driven by one Joseph Cooper, of St. Louis,
Missouri. At his side sat his niece, looking with wondering and
disapproving eyes about her, her pretty face improved by its coat of
healthy tan, but marred somewhat by the look of worry it so plainly
showed. She appeared sad and wistful, but at times her thoughts leaped
far away and brought her fleeting smiles so soft, so tender, as to
banish the look of worry and for an instant set a glory there.

Her glance took in the little pack train and its stalwart guards and
passed carelessly over the bending Delaware, and then returned to linger
on him while one might count five. Then he and the _atejo_ passed from
sight and she looked ahead again, unseeing, for her memory was racing
along a wagon road, and became a blank in a frightful, all-night storm.
At her sigh Uncle Joe glanced sidewise at her and took a firmer grip on
his vile native cigar, and silently cursed the day she had left St.
Louis.

"Load of wheat whiskey from th' rancho, I reckon," he said, and pulled
sharply on the reins to keep from running over a hypnotized ring of
cock-fighters. "How your paw can live all th' year 'round in this fester
of a town is a puzzle to me. I'd rather be in a St. Louis jail. Cigar?"
he sneered, yanking it from his mouth and regarding it with palpitant
disgust. He savagely hurled it from him. "Hell!"

A tangle of arms and legs rolled out of a rum shop and fought impotently
in the dust of the street, and sotted faces g