San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-03-22
ON THE PAYSTREAK.

Rodolfo was kneeling beside the door oil
little jacal on the western slope of the
San Ysidio mountains pounding soap
That may seem curious occupation, but
here in New Mexico nine-tenths of the
people have to pound their soap-the fat
root of the palmilla "a sort of aloe), whose
fbrous substance they crush to pulp for
use in tub or basin. This curious nat
ural soap is called amole, and an excel.
lent article it is. The poor little jacal
"a rooted palisade of pinon trunks
chinked and covered with adobe mud
looked as if it were like to contain very
little worthy of washing, but the amole
and huge copper caldron simmering
over fire of chips indicated plainly that
there was something to be scrubbed.
Just then brown, thin faced woman
stood in the low doorway holding in her
arms a curious, brilliant robe like
blanket. Strangely enough, the most
beautiful and the most durable blankets
in the world are made, not in civilized
looms, but by half savage Indians with nc
better appliances than rude combina-
ton of sticks and cords suspended from
the branch of tree. This one was of the
best Navajo make-a blanket of crimson
bolletta, with blue and white lightnings
playing across it; blanket which it re.
quired solid twelvemonth to weave,
and in which one could carry water as in
a bag of rubber.
"Is the amole ready?" asked Maria.
SAY de mil My heart is heavy for the
serspe that Don Francisco gave to thy
father. That only we have saved when
all was lost, and now it, too, has to be
sold. Last year the governor in Santa
Fe offered $50 pesos (dollars) for it, and
now when it is washed thou shalt take
it thither to see if he still will buy.
Lastimal 1t is the last we have Of thy
father, and-ay2 Inc tienes"
For Rodolfo had jumped to his feet
with a loud cry. Mira, nana!" COOK
mother) he said, laying something in her
palm. 1t was wee, yellow scale, not
so broad as Rodolfo's little finger nail,
nor quite so thick But how heavy il
wasl And what color-that exquisite
waxy luster of the gold of the New
Placers
"Oro grander coarse gold) cried
Maria, her big, tired eyes lighting up
Where didst thou find it?"
Pounding this last big piece of amole,
mana, found it in an elbow of the root.
Sperate, till | pan the dirt-perhaps
there is more"
In a moment he was out of the house
again with big wooden bowl; carefully
scooping up the few handfuls of sandy
earth fallen from the pile of roots, he
put it in the bowl and poured on water
from an ola (earthen jar) till the bowl
was nearly full Grasping it by the
edges he gave it a slow, fitting, rotary
motion Directly the water began to
run around and around in a miniature
whirlpool, and the sand began to follow
its current slowly. Now and then
Rodolfo stopped to run his hands through
the sand and loosen it up; and again set
it to revolving-for he had learned to
pan out gold as well as any one when he
and his father used to work side by side
in the placers at Dolores. Now the poor
old man-never fully recovered from
that last awful wound received in
fight with the Apaches-was dead, and
they were very poor. There was no
more money to be made in the placers,
for it was too expensive to haul water
for washing that washed out gravel, and
tha beautiful seraDe must be sold or