The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-09-08

| single one of those horses Is missing.
'.Weno (bueno). the first day watched,
and the horses just come, come, come.
(eat, eat, eat), all very quiet; at night |
drove them into the corral; l wrapped
myself up in my blanket and slept by the
bars" All this was told with many halts,
husky Calculations explanatory gestures
and grimaces.
horses out to the hillside by the canada.
walked around, 1 talked to them and
then l lay down on my blanket. | could
not have snored only once or twice when
heard something-I looked up and there
stood Manuel, the Mexican boy, his eyes
brown owl in the dark. Que hay,
ManuelP whats up, Manuel0 The
horses, Chute, the horses! Some Gringo
soldiers came down the Mission road in a
big cloud OF dust. They want the horses,
Chutep
manuel could speak the we-re-we-re"
(English)
+" FDiablo! tell the Gringos these are Don
Antonio's horses" | thought, OF course,
no one would think of touching anything
belonging to Don Antonio.
al did, and, Chute Manuel whispered,
the man snapped his fingers and said,
That's nothing, they belong to nobody
but a greaser, anyway" Think of it, Chute,
to call caballero like our Don Antonio
greaser.' "
Here Chute jumped to his feet, and the
rest of the story was told with intensely
thrilling effect.
"'Diablos! Here, Muchacho, take the
best horse in the,stable and ride away as if
a thousand devils were after you! Bring
Don Antonio home. Cut through the ho1-
low there. Vamos Muchacho, vamosP
The boy was gone like comet that leaves
only a misty trail behind it. l jumped on
my pony and rode to the corral, where the
Grinpos were like a WhirlWind,
1.-TWO of them were just taking down the
new saddle my master had given me from
its resting-place in tree. Huh! l was
mad. I rode up and talked to them even
like a good Spaniard, but they only
laughed. [ never saw my saddle again,
for very soon l had other things to think
about They talked to me- and l knew it
was about the horses, so | only said, shak-
ing my head, No Sc; yo soy 1ndio' q do
not know; l am an Indian). After
talked! listened" here his voice sank
to whisper-"and watched. Over there
on the side of the hill l could see the heads
of some of that band of horses They never
dreamed those were the horses they were
seeking.
81 took the Gringos out to the corral,
where we had about forty broncos. L
waved my arm and nodded my head to let
them know that they could take those if
they wanted them, for, you see, | wanted
to get the Gringos away. l was afraid
some of the band might stray further up
and be seen. / could still see few heads
over the low hills!
1.-The Gringos grew very angry and
dragged me out to the gate and threw me
into the dusty road. One of them, ell
demonio Sc 10 neve (the devil take him),
threw out rope, caught me by the neck
and dragged me over to the stunted oak.
1t was not stunted then, it was a fresh
young tree. How trempledl Yes, | was
afraid; I did not want to die. But |
thought of how my master trusted me, and
/ whispered, Bravo, Indion"
Here his face took on tense look and
the rest of the story was told in husky,
broken whispers.
81 felt the rope tighten round my neck,
tighter, tighter"-his breath grew labored,
his features rigidly tense-''and then, with
the noise of angry, rushing, roaring tor
rents in my ear and million shooting
stars before my eyes, felt myself drawn
| up. / thought big bat had caught me by
the neck and was rushing through the
black night with me. The roar ceased
[ opened my eyes-I stupidity wondered
how that snake came there up in the oak
tree. Then it came to me that it was a
dangling rope. l lifted my hand and felt
its coils around my neck. tried to sit up.
I heard voices. / knew that they were
talking to me. l tried to speak. Some of
the faces around me bent over me and
laughed. l wanted to shrek, but I only
whispered, Jesus, Jesus, Maria Santls-
sinai / heard them speak again-about
the horses. say, No Sc, no SCI, and
then again the rope grows tight. thought
my head would burst-it split into a
thousand pieces. burned, I froze; l saw
hell and demons dancing all around me,
and then-and then / could feel the ground
beneath me. did not stir. I hoped that
they would kill me at once. Ny tongue
was like burning lead.' Here he clutched
his throat convulsively and gasped as il he
would choke. ''The diablos were not salts
fed. Again-the third time-the rope
grew tight. They strung me up again.
This SIT time 1ai all this t innet He He
eyes grew bloodshot. his lips loaned.
Then in strangled, husky tones: They
went away = the demonios. Ay, they
thought that | was dead Aha
ah am / alive? Yes, yes, can see the
Mills around me! l can feel the warm sun
shine all about met is good to live! l
feel pain about my neck-yes, yes, the
Gringos! l raise myself on my elbow-I
can see the dust winding away up the
Livermore road. All! l am alive I am
well! the horses? the horses | stagger
over to corral-I jump on horse-any
horse-I ride, somehow don't know
| however to the band. All safe! throw
, myself on the ground-I cannot stand-I
! cannot see-the horses are safe !
When I open my eyes again, Don An
J tonic is beside me, the shadows of the
; hills lie long upon the meadows. get
up. and together we take the horses home.
He says nothing, only, 'Pobre Chute,
J buen Indio! poor Chute. good Indian).
but the next day little master, your father,
comes over and puts his own silver
: mounted saddle on my pony. You have
J seen the saddle. All! Chute is proud of
itp'
A happy dreamy expression creeps over
the ugly face, another grunt, and we know
the story is ended.
Speeches. with horror and admiration
we steal off to bed.
1t is now years since Chute sleeps among
his own people within sound OF the Mis-
sion bells, but his memory lives in many
a picture of our happy childhood days,
and l never hear the oft-repeated tales
against the Digger Indian truth and faith
and honor, but that my heart rises in
indignant, rebellious protest for this my
hero of early Californian days.
FRANCES A. SUNoL-ANGUs.
A British steamer put in at Rangoon, in
| India racaDt1y whose officers were all