The Hunter Cats of Connorloa

soshe could but just hobble about; but there she sat day after day,propped up in her bed, sewing. It was lucky that the rheumatism had notgone into her hands, for the money she earned by making lace was thechief part of their living.

  Sometimes Ysidro earned a little by days' works in the fields orgardens; but he was so old, people did not want him if they could getanybody else, and nobody would pay him more than half wages.

  When he could not get anything else to do, he made mats to sell. He madethem out of the stems of a plant called yucca; but he had to go a longway to get these plants. It was slow, tedious work making the mats, andthe store-keepers gave him only seventy-five cents apiece for them; soit was very little he could earn in that way.

  Was not this a wretched life? Yet they seemed always cheerful, and theywere as much attached to this poor little mud hovel as any of you canbe to your own beautiful homes.

  Would you think any one could have the heart to turn those two poor oldpeople out of their home? It would not seem as if a human being could befound who would do such a thing. But there was. He was a lawyer; I couldtell you his true name, but I will not. He had a great deal to do withall sorts of records and law papers, about land and titles and all suchthings.

  There has always been trouble about the ownership of land in California,because first it belonged to Spain, and then it belonged to Mexico; andthen we fought with Mexico, and Mexico gave it to us. So you can easilysee that where lands are passed along in that way, through so manyhands, it might often be hard to tell to whom they justly belonged.

  Of course this poor old Ysidro did not know anything about papers. Hecould not read or write. The missionaries gave the land to his fathermore than a hundred years ago, and his father gave it to him, and thatwas all Ysidro knew about it.

  Well, this lawyer was rummaging among papers and titles and maps ofestates in San Gabriel, and he found out that there was this little bitof land near the church, which had been overlooked by everybody, and towhich nobody had any written title. He went over and looked at it, andfound Ysidro's house on it; and Ysidro told him he had always livedthere; but the lawyer did not care for that.

  Land is worth a great deal of money now in San Gabriel. This littleplace of Ysidro's was worth a good many hundred dollars; and this lawyerwas determined to have it. So he went to work in ways I cannot explainto you, for I do not understand them myself; and you could notunderstand them even if I could write them out exactly: but it was alldone according to law; and the lawyer got it decided by the courts andthe judges in San Francisco that this bit of land was his.

  When this was all done, he had not quite boldness enough to come forwardhimself, and turn the poor old Indians out. Even he had some sense ofshame; so he slyly sold the land to a man who did not know anythingabout the Indians being there.

  You see how cunning this was of him! When it came to the Indians beingturned out, and the land taken by the new owner, this lawyer's namewould not need to come out in the matter at all. But it did come out; sothat a few people knew what a mean, cruel thing he had done. Just forthe sake of the price of an acre of land, to turn two aged helplesspeople out of house and home to starve! Do you think those dollars willever do that man any good as long as he lives? No, not if they had beena million.

  Well, Mr. Connor was one of the persons who had found out about this;and he had at first thought he would help Ysidro fight, in the courts,to keep his place; but he found there would be no use in that. Thelawyer had been cunning enough to make sure he was safe, before he wenton to steal the old Indian's farm. The law was on his side. Ysidro didnot really own the land, according to law, though he had lived on it allhis life, and it had been given to his father by the missionaries,almost a hundred years ago.

  Does it not seem strange that the law could do such a thing as that?When the boys who read this story grow up to be men, I hope they willdo away with these bad laws, and make better ones.

  The way Rea had found out about old Ysidro was this: when Jim went tothe post-office for the mail, in the mornings, he used generally to takeAnita and Rea in the wagon with him, and leave them at Anita's mother'swhile he drove on to the post-office, which was a mile farther.

  Rea liked this very much. Anita's mother had a big blue and greenparrot, that could talk in both Spanish and English; and Rea was nevertired of listening to her. She always carried her sugar; and she used tocock her head on one side, and call out, "Senorita! senorita! Pollylikes sugar! sugar! sugar!" as soon as she saw Rea coming in at thedoor. It was the only parrot Rea had ever seen, and it seemed to her themost wonderful creature in the world.

  Ysidro's house was next to Anita's mother's; and Rea often saw the oldman at work in his garden, or sitting on his door-step knitting lace,with needles as fine as pins.

  One day Anita took her into the house to see Carmena, who was sitting inbed at work on her embroidery. When Carmena heard that Rea was Mr.Connor's niece, she insisted upon giving her a beautiful piece of lacewhich she had made. Anita did not wish to take it, but old Carmenasaid,--

  "You must take it. Mr. Connor has given us much money, and there wasnever anything I could do for him. Now if his little senorita will takethis, it will be a pleasure."

  So Rea carried the lace home, and showed it to her Uncle George, and hesaid she might keep it; and it was only a few weeks after this that whenAnita and Rea went down to San Gabriel, one day, they found the oldcouple in great distress, the news having come that they were going tobe turned out of their house.

  And it was the night after this visit that Rea dreamed about the poorold creatures all night, and the very next morning that she asked herUncle George if he would not build them a house in his canon.

  After lunch, Mr. Connor said to Rea,--

  "I am going to drive this afternoon, Rea. Would you like to come withme?"

  His eyes twinkled as he said it, and Rea cried out,--

  "Oh! oh! It is to see Ysidro and Carmena, I am sure!"

  "Yes," said her uncle; "I am going down to tell them you are going tobuild them a house."

  "Uncle George, will you really, truly, do it?" said Rea. "I think youare the kindest man in all the world!" and she ran for her hat, and wasdown on the veranda waiting, long before the horses were ready.

  They found old Ysidro sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall ofhis house. He had his face covered up with both hands, his elbowsleaning on his knees.

  "Oh, look at him! He is crying, Uncle George," said Rea.

  "No, dear," replied Mr. Connor. "He is not crying. Indian men veryrarely cry. He is feeling all the worse that he will not let himselfcry, but shuts the tears all back."

  "Yes, that is lots worse," said Rea.

  "How do you know, pet?" laughingly said her uncle. "Did you ever tryit?"

  "I've tried to try it," said Rea, "and it felt so much worse, Icouldn't."

  It was not easy at first to make old Ysidro understand what Mr. Connormeant. He could not believe that anybody would give him a house and homefor nothing. He thought Mr. Connor wanted to get him to come and work;and, being an honest old fellow, he was afraid Mr. Connor did not knowhow little strength he had; so he said,--

  "Senor Connor, I am very old; I am sick too. I am not worth hiring towork."

  "Bless you!" said Mr. Connor. "I don't want you to work any more thanyou do now. I am only offering you a place to live in. If you arestrong enough to do a day's work, now and then, I shall pay you for it,just as I would pay anybody else."

  Ysidro gazed earnestly in Mr. Connor's face, while he said this; hegazed as if he were trying to read his very thoughts. Then he looked upto the sky, and he said,--

  "Senor, Ysidro has no words. He cannot speak. Will you come into thehouse and tell Carmena? She will not believe if I tell it."

  So Mr. Connor and Rea went into the house, and there sat Carmena in bed,trying to sew; but the tears were running out of her eyes. When she sawMr. Connor and Rea coming in at the door, she threw up her hands andburst out into loud crying.
br />   "O senor! senor!" she said. "They drive us out of our house. Can youhelp us? Can you speak for us to the wicked man?"

  Ysidro went up to the bed and took hold of her hand, and, pointing withhis other hand to Mr. Connor, said,--

  "He comes from God,--the senor. He will help us!"

  "Can we stay?" cried Carmena.

  Here Rea began to cry.

  "Don't cry, Rea," said Mr. Connor. "That will make her feel worse."

  Rea gulped down her sobs, enough to say,--

  "But she doesn't want to come into the canon! All she wants is to stayhere! She won't be glad of the new house."

  "Yes, she will, by and by," whispered Mr. Connor. "Stop crying, that'smy good Rea."

  But Rea could not. She stood close to the bed, looking into