The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1899-04-22
Ell SACUDIDOR
By Marley II. Pike
AIIiEN Will Low got home from
Wv northern Mexico, where he had


Wv northern Mexico, where he had
been absent n year, in company with his
father, who owned some property there,
Charles Foster and myself didn't lose
a moment in rushing over to see him.
as you may suppose. yet we hardly
knew him at first, he had grown so much
taller and Stouter, while as for his com
pleNion, don't give the slightest idea
of it by saying that he was sunburned.
Why, he was only shade or two light
er than genuine Congo negro.
But we found the same old Will I'M
der the tan, and such a chattering as we
three made-trying to give Il full ac-
count of whole years happenings in
half an hour!
After awhile, however, we managed
to quiet down sufficiently to go upstairs
and look over Wills collection of Gu
riosities, ranging all the way from
tarantuas' nests up to spears and war
clubs. Among them was n chestful
Of Mexican clothing and ornaments.
rich and elegant enough, some of them;
and while Charley was turning these
WI, h' NdhiV upoH submitting winch
made him inquire, wonderingly:
"Why, viii, what under the sun do
you keep this old thing among these
nice clothes for?"
1t was II common leather boot,
wrinkled, dusty, and half worn out,
wrapped around with stout rawhide
rope, which we mt once recognized as
q lasSo. The boot couldn't have amount
ed to much in its best days, and now,
with n ragged cut extending all along
the sole, as if it had been ripped up
with duh knife, it was only lit for
the ash barrel. No wonder Charley
asked the question.
Boys" said Will, IL think more of
this old boot than of anything else you
see here. It's n memento of the mar
rowest escape | ever had or expect to
have; and besides, il reminds me when
ever | look at it that there are diff
ferent kinds of ability in this world,
and that you must not always judge n
person according to your own idea OF
what he ought to be-"
"rell us about it, won't your urged
Charley and |.
.@ And Will. holding the old boot in his
hand, sat down between us, and be-
gan:
after | was fairly settled out there
on the Los Puebos ranch, | must say
i felt very lonesome. Father was away
most of the time about his business,
and it wasn't generally convenient to
take me with him, so | was left to my
own resources for amusement, and few
enough they were.
"The ranch buildings were simply
two adobe shanties. covered with red
tiles. looking more like sheds than
houses, and no better inside than out.
The Mexican and Indian poems, or hired
men, lived i'm one. and Don Mereno, the
owner, in the other.
"The don was the proudest and lax
lest mortal il has even been my luck
to meet with. He did nothing all day
but lie on bench in the sun, smoking
cigarettes-eXcept when he took a nap
which was about half the time. De-
casionaly he'd ride over the ranch,
superintending matters, not often, for
it seemed to be too great an exertion
for him.
"You see, the don was pure Span
iard-descended straight from one of
the old conquerors of Mexico, ! believe
and he was so proud of the fact that
he spent all his time in thinking what
a great man he was, and so had none left
for any other purpose. If he had lived
in town, he would soon have had the
nonsense taken out of him, but out
there on the plains he seldom saw any
one except his servants, and his con-
ceit and laziness had plenty of room
to grow.
"His son, Pablo, was entirely differ
ent. He was about our age, and hand
some boy, too. Such rider you never
saw; and he could do things with a
lasso that you wouldn't believe withou.
seeing them.
ale really managed the ranch, and