The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1899-05-25
Ell SACUDIDOR
BY ManIey II. Pike
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NIHEN Will Low got home from
w northern Mexico, where he had
been absent year, in company with his
father, who owned some property there,
Charles Foster and myself didn't lose
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.
plexion, l don't give the slightest idea
of it by saying that he was sunburned.
Why, he was only n shade or two light
er than genuine Congo negro.
But we found the same old Will un-
der the tan, and such a chattering as we
three made-trying to give full ac-
count Of whole years happenings in
half IN 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
tarantulas' 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
over, he came upon something which
made him inquire, wonderingly:
why, Win, what under the sun do
you keep this old thing among these
nice clothes for?'
1t was common leather boot,
wrinkled, dusty, and half worn out,
wrapped around with stout rawhide
rope, which we ut once recognized rs
a 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, rs If it had been ripped up
with Il dull knife, it was only fit for
the ash-barrel. No wonder Charley
asked the question.
Boys" said Will, 81 think more OF
this old boot than of anything else you
see here. It's memento of the mar
rowest escape 1 ever had or expect to
have; and besides, it reminds me when
ever look at it that there are diff
ferent kinds of ability in this world,
md that you must not always Judge n
person according to your own idea of
what he ought to be-"
Tell us about it, won't you?" 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 Pueblos ranch, must say
felt very lonesome. Father was away
most of the time about his business,
and it wasn't generally convenient to
take mo with him, so l was left to my
own resources for amusement, and few
enough they were.
1.-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 in one, and Don Mereno, the
owner, in the other.
"The don was the proudest and lag
lest mortal it has even been my luck
to meet with. He did nothing all day
hut lie on a bench in the sun, smoking
igarettes-eXcept when he took a nap
which was about half the time. Oc-
casionally he'd ride over the ranch,
experimenting 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
u great man he was, and SO had none left
for any other purpose. If he had lived
in u 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 without
seeing them.
''IIc really managed the ranch. and
his father would have had hard time
Of 1t without him.
"IIe thought nothing. of riding 80 or
60 miles day, and didn't seem to know
VIA. the word tired means, for he
hnd first sat on horse when four years
cd, and for years had scarcely been
ont Of the saddle, except to sleep
not always for that. Talk about rid