t
with her humble escort, who stubbornly insisted on taking his portion to
one side and eating by himself, she spread her own lunch under her
favorite tree and leisurely enjoyed it as she watched the mules passing
below her along the trail. This last view of the distant town and the
mountain trail enchanted her and time slipped by with furtive speed. Far
down on the road, if it could be called such, bumped and slid a huge
_carreta_ covered with a soiled canvas cover, its driver laboring with
his four-mule team. The four had all they could do to draw the massive
cart along the rough trail and she smiled as she wondered how many mules
it would take to pull the heavy vehicle if it were well loaded. She
tried to picture it with the toiling caravan, and laughed aloud at the
absurdity.

While she idly watched the _carreta_ and the little _atejo_ passing it
in the direction of the city, a flash far down the trail caught her eye
and she made out a group of mounted soldiers trotting after an officer,
whose scabbard dully flashed as it jerked and bobbed about. The
_carreta_ was more than half way up the slope, seeming every moment to
be threatened with destruction by the shaking it was receiving, when the
soldiers overtook and passed it. When the squad reached the short
section of the trail immediately below her it met an _atejo_ of a dozen
heavily-laden mules and the arrogant officer waved his sword and ordered
them off the trail. Mules are deliberate and take their own good time,
and they also have a natural reluctance to forsake a known and
comparatively easy trail to climb over rocks under the towering packs.
Their owners tried to lead them aside, although there was plenty of room
for the troops to pass, but the little beasts were stubborn and stuck to
the trail.

Impatiently waiting for perhaps a full minute that his conceit might be
pampered, the officer drew his sword again and peremptorily ordered the
trail cleared for his passing. The muleteers did their best, but it was
not good enough for the puffed-up captain, and he spurred his horse
against a faggot-burdened animal. The load swayed and then toppled,
forcing the little burro to its knees and then over on its side, the
tight girth gripping it as in a vise. The owner of the animal stepped
quickly forward, a black scowl on his face. At his first word of protest
the officer struck him on the head with the flat of the blade and broke
into a torrent of curses and threats