CHAPTER SIX.
SANTA FE.
After a week's climbing through the Rocky Mountains, we descended intothe Valley of the Del Norte, and arrived at the capital of New Mexico,the far-famed Santa Fe. Next day the caravan itself came in, for we hadlost time on the southern route; and the waggons, travelling by theRaton Pass, had made a good journey of it.
We had no difficulty about their entrance into the country, with theproviso that we paid five hundred dollars of "Alcavala" tax upon eachwaggon. This was a greater extortion than usual; but the traders werecompelled to accept the impost.
Santa Fe is the entrepot of the province, and the chief seat of itstrade. On reaching it we halted, camping without the walls.
Saint Vrain, several other _proprietaires_, and myself, took up ourquarters at the Fonda, where we endeavoured, by means of the sparklingvintage of El Paso, to make ourselves oblivious of the hardships we hadendured in the passage of the plains.
The night of our arrival was given to feasting and making merry.
Next morning I was awakened by the voice of my man Gode, who appeared tobe in high spirits, singing a snatch of a Canadian boat-song.
"Ah, monsieur!" cried he, seeing me awake, "to-night--aujourd'hui--unegrande fonction--one bal--vat le Mexicain he call fandango. Tres bien,monsieur. You vill sure have grand plaisir to see un fandangoMexicain?"
"Not I, Gode. My countrymen are not so fond of dancing as yours."
"C'est vrai, monsieur; but von fandango is tres curieux. You sall seever many sort of de pas. Bolero, et valse, wis de Coona, and ver manymore pas, all mix up in von puchero. Allons! monsieur, you vill see vermany pretty girl, avec les yeux tres noir, and ver short--ah! vershort--vat you call em in Americaine?"
"I do not know what you allude to."
"Cela! Zis, monsieur," holding out the skirt of his hunting-shirt; "parDieu! now I have him--petticoes; ver short petticoes. Ah! you sall seevat you sall see en un fandango Mexicaine.
"`Las ninas de Durango Commigo bailandas, Al cielo saltandas, En el fandango--en el fan-dang--o.'
"Ah! here comes Monsieur Saint Vrain. Ecoutez! He never go tofandango. Sacre! how monsieur dance! like un maitre de ballet. Mais hebe de sangre--blood Francais. Ecoutez!
"`Al cielo saltandas, En el fandango--en el fan-dang--.'"
"Ha! Gode!"
"Monsieur?"
"Trot over to the cantina, and beg, borrow, buy, or steal, a bottle ofthe best Paso."
"Sall I try steal 'im, Monsieur Saint Vrain?" inquired Gode, with aknowing grin.
"No, you old Canadian thief! Pay for it. There's the money. BestPaso, do you hear?--cool and sparkling. Now, voya! Bon jour, my boldrider of buffalo bulls I still abed, I see."
"My head aches as if it would split."
"Ha, ha, ha! so does mine; but Gode's gone for medicine. Hair of thedog good for the bite. Come, jump up!"
"Wait till I get a dose of your medicine."
"True; you will feel better then. I say, city life don't agree with us,eh?"
"You call this a city, do you?"
"Ay, so it is styled in these parts: `la ciudad de Santa Fe;' the famouscity of Santa Fe; the capital of Nuevo Mexico; the metropolis of allprairiedom; the paradise of traders, trappers, and thieves!"
"And this is the progress of three hundred years! Why, these peoplehave hardly passed the first stages of civilisation."
"Rather say they are passing the last stages of it. Here, on this fairoasis, you will find painting, poetry, dancing, theatres, and music,fetes and fireworks, with all the little amorous arts that characterisea nation's decline. You will meet with numerous Don Quixotes,_soi-disant_ knights-errant, Romeos without the heart, and ruffianswithout the courage. You will meet with many things before youencounter either virtue or honesty. Hola! muchacho!"
"Que es, senor?"
"Hay cafe?"
"Si, senor."
"Bring us a couple of tazas, then--dos tazas, do you hear? and quick--aprisa! aprisa!"
"Si, senor."
"Ah! here comes le voyageur Canadien. So, old Nor'-west! you've broughtthe wine?"
"Vin delicieux, Monsieur Saint Vrain! equal to ze vintage Francais."
"He is right, Haller! Tsap--tsap! delicious you may say, good Gode.Tsap--tsap! Come, drink! it'll make you feel as strong as a buffalo.See! it seethes like a soda spring! like `Fontaine-qui-bouille'; eh,Gode?"
"Oui, monsieur; ver like Fontaine-qui-bouille. Oui."
"Drink, man, drink! Don't fear it: it's the pure juice. Smell theflavour; taste the bouquet. What wine the Yankees will one day squeezeout of these New Mexican grapes!"
"Why? Do you think the Yankees have an eye to this quarter?"
"Think! I know it; and why not? What use are these manikins increation? Only to cumber the earth. Well, mozo, you have brought thecoffee?"
"Ya, esta, senor."
"Here! try some of this; it will help to set you on your feet. They canmake coffee, and no mistake. It takes a Spaniard to do that."
"What is this fandango Gode has been telling me about?"
"Ah! true. We are to have a famous one to-night. You'll go, ofcourse?"
"Out of curiosity."
"Very well, you will have your curiosity gratified. The blustering oldgrampus of a Governor is to honour the ball with his presence; and it issaid, his pretty senora; that I don't believe."
"Why not?"
"He's too much afraid lest one of these wild Americanos might whip heroff on the cantle of his saddle. Such things have been done in thisvery valley. By Saint Mary! she is good-looking," continued SaintVrain, in a half-soliloquy, "and I knew a man--the cursed old tyrant!only think of it!"
"Of what?"
"The way he has bled us. Five hundred dollars a waggon, and a hundredof them at that; in all, fifty thousand dollars!"
"But will he pocket all this? Will not the Government--?"
"Government! no, every cent of it. He is the Government here; and, withthe help of this instalment, he will rule these miserable wretches withan iron rod."
"And yet they hate him, do they not?"
"Him and his. And they have reason."
"It is strange they do not rebel."
"They have at times; but what can they do? Like all true tyrants, hehas divided them, and makes them spend their heart's hatred on oneanother."
"But he seems not to have a very large army; no bodyguard--"
"Bodyguard!" cried Saint Vrain, interrupting me; "look out! there's hisbodyguard!"
"Indios bravos! les Navajoes!" exclaimed Gode, at the same instant.
I looked forth into the street. Half a dozen tall savages, wrapped instriped serapes, were passing. Their wild, hungry looks, and slow,proud walk at once distinguished them from "Indios manzos," thewater-drawing, wood-hewing pueblos.
"Are they Navajoes?" I asked.
"Oui, monsieur, oui!" replied Gode, apparently with some excitement."Navajoes!"
"There's no mistaking them," added Saint Vrain.
"But the Navajoes are the notorious enemies of the New Mexicans! Howcome they to be here? Prisoners?"
"Do they look like prisoners?"
They certainly showed no signs of captivity in either look or gesture.They strode proudly up the street, occasionally glancing at the passerswith an air of savage and lordly contempt.
"Why, then, are they here? Their country lies far to the west."
"That is one of the secrets of Nuevo Mexico, about which I willenlighten you some other time. They are now protected by a treaty ofpeace, which is only binding upon them so long as it may suit theirconvenience to recognise it. At present they are as free here as you orI; indeed, more so, when it comes to that. I wouldn't wonder it we wereto meet them at the fandango to-night."
"I have heard that the Navajoes are cannibals."
"It is true. Look at them this minute! See how they gloat upon thatchubby little fellow, who seems instinctively to fear t
hem. Lucky forthe urchin it's broad daylight, or he might get chucked under one ofthose striped blankets."
"Are you in earnest, Saint Vrain?"
"By my word, I am not jesting! If I mistake not, Gode's experience willconfirm what I have said. Eh, voyageur?"
"C'est vrai, monsieur. I vas prisonnier in le nation; not Navagh, butl'Apache--moch de same--pour tree mons. I have les sauvages seenmanger--eat--one--deux--tree--tree enfants rotis, like hump rib of debuffles. C'est vrai, messieurs, c'est vrai."
"It is quite true; both Apaches and Navajoes carry off children from thevalley, here, in their grand forays; and it is said by those who shouldknow, that most of them are used in that way. Whether as a sacrifice tothe fiery god Quetzalcoatl, or whether from a fondness lor human flesh,no one has yet been able to determine. In fact, with all theirpropinquity to this place, there is little known about them. Few whohave visited their towns have had Gode's luck to get away again. No manof these parts ever ventures across the western Sierras."
"And how came you, Monsieur Gode, to save your scalp?"
"Pourquoi, monsieur, je n'ai pas. I not haves scalp-lock: vat detrappare Yankee call `har,' mon scalp-lock is fabrique of von barbier deSaint Louis. Voila monsieur!"
So saying, the Canadian lifted his cap, and along with it what I had, upto this time, looked upon as a beautiful curling head of hair, but whichnow proved to be only a wig!
"Now, messieurs!" cried he, in good humour, "how les sauvages my scalptake? Indien no have cash hold. Sacr-r-r!"
Saint Vrain and I were unable to restrain our laughter at the alteredand comical appearance of the Canadian.
"Come, Gode! the least you can do after that is to take a drink. Here,help yourself!"
"Tres-oblige, Monsieur Saint Vrain. Je vous remercie." And theever-thirsty voyageur quaffed off the nectar of El Paso, like so muchfresh milk.
"Come, Haller! we must to the waggons. Business first, then pleasure;such as we may find here among these brick stacks. But we'll have somefun in Chihuahua."
"And you think we shall go there?"
"Certainly. They do not want the fourth part of our stuff here. Wemust carry it on to the head market. To the camp! Allons!"