d Carlota Juanita both
spoke fairly good English. They had lived for many years in their
present home and had some sheep, a few goats, a cow or two, a few pigs,
and chickens and turkeys. They had a small patch of land that Carlota
Juanita tilled and on which was raised the squaw corn that hung in
bunches from the rafters. Down where we live we can't get sweet corn to
mature, but here, so much higher up, they have a sheltered little nook
where they are able to raise many things. Upon a long shelf above the
fire was an ugly old stone image, the bottom broken off and some
plaster applied to make it set level. The ugly thing they had brought
with them from some old ruined temple in Mexico. We were all so very
tired that soon Carlota Juanita brought out an armful of the thickest,
brightest rugs and spread them over the floor for us to sleep upon. The
men retired to a lean-to room, where they slept, but not before Manuel
Pedro Felipe and Carlota had knelt before their altar for their
devotions. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and myself and Jerrine, knowing the
rosary, surprised them by kneeling with them. It is good to meet with
kindred faith away off in the mountains. It seems there could not
possibly be a mistake when people so far away from creeds and doctrines
hold to the faith of their childhood and find the practice a pleasure
after so many years. The men bade us good-night, and we lost no time in
settling ourselves to rest. Luckily we had plenty of blankets.

Away in the night I was awakened by a noise that frightened me. All was
still, but instantly there flashed through my mind tales of murdered
travelers, and I was almost paralyzed with fear when again I heard that
stealthy, sliding noise, just like Carlota Juanita's old slippers. The
fire had burned down, but just then the moon came from behind a cloud
and shone through the window upon Carlota Juanita, who was asleep with
her mouth open. I could also see a pine bough which was scraping
against the wall outside, which was perhaps making the noise. I turned
over and saw the punk burning, which cast a dim light over the serene
face of the Blessed Virgin, so all fear vanished and I slept as long as
they would let me in the morning. After a breakfast of _tortillas_,
cheese, and rancid butter, and some more of the coffee, we started
again for the stocking-leg dinner. Carlota Juanita stood in the door,
waving to us as long as we could see her, and Manuel P.F. sat with Mr.
Stewart to