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Chata and Chinita
I.
On an evening in May, some forty years ago, Tio Pedro,the portero, or gate-keeper, of Tres Hermanos, had loosenedthe iron bolts that held back the great doors againstthe massive stone walls, and was about to close the haciendabuildings for the night, when a traveller, humblydressed in a shabby suit of buff leather, urged his wearymule up the road from the village, and pulling off hiswide sombrero of woven grass, asked in the name ofGod for food and shelter.
Pedro glanced at him sourly enough from beneath hisbroad felt-hat, gay with a silver cord and heavy tassels.The last rays of the setting sun flashed in his eyes, allowinghim but an uncertain glimpse of the dark face of thestranger, though the shabby and forlorn aspect of bothman and beast were sufficiently apparent to warn himfrom forcing an appearance of courtesy, and he muttered,grumblingly,—
“Pass in! Pass in! See you not I am in a hurry?God save us! Am I to stand all night waiting on yourlordship? Another moment, friend, and the gate wouldhave been shut. By my patron saint,” he added in a lowertone, “it would have been small grief to me to have turnedthe key upon thee and thy beast. By thy looks, Tia Selsa’smud hut for thee, and the shade of a mesquite for thymule, would have suited all needs well enough. But sinceit is the will of the saints that t