The Cape Girardeau Democrat. (Cape Girardeau, Mo.) 1876-1909, 1899-04-22
FL SACUDlDOR
By Marley n. Pike
MAYHEM VIII Low got home from
Wv uprIlpTn NaNiro whore no I,J

Al 'A ~ S'b III IIplll
w northern Mexico, where he had
been absent 4 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 al first, he had grown so much
taller and stouter, while as for his COM
pIeNion. / don't give the slightest idea
OF il by saving that he WAS sunburncd.
Why. be WAS only Il shade or two light
er than a genuine Congo negro.
But "" found the same old VIII I'M
der tie tan. and such Il chattering as we
three maG"-tryimg to give Il full ac-
count OF a whole years happenings in
half an hour.
After awhile. however, we managed
to qui,c down sufficiently to go upstairs
and look o"cr Wits collection of Gu
rioSi'i"s. ranging all the way from
tarantIlas' nests up to spears and war
clnbs. Among them WAS Il chrstful
Of Mexican cIothin~ and ornaments.
ricl3 and elegant enough. some of them;
and while Charley was turning these
Oycr. h came upon something which
ma;ic hHn inquire, wondcringly:
"N'Hy. VIII. what under the sun do
YOU keep this old thing among these
nice clothes for"
it YVES = common leather boot,
wTiEklrd. dusty. and half worn out,
wrapped around with Il stout rawhidc
rope. which we at once recognized as
q iaSSn. Tlig boot couldn't have amount
ed To IHu"h in its best days, and now.
with = ragged cut extending all along
the sole. "s If it had been ripped up
win a DUH knife. it was only fit for
the ash-DarrcI. No wonder Charley
asked the question.
"BGys." aid VIII. Il think more Of
this OLD h"ni than of anything else you
see here. Its d memcnto of the mar
ruwcst escape | yer had or expect 10
ever | look At it that there are diff
fcrcnt kinds OF ability in this world.
and that you must not always Judge 4
person according To your w idea Of
what he ought to be-"
Tell Us about it. won't you"!" urged
Charley and |.
And VIII. holding the old boot IT his
hand, sat down between us, and be-
gar:
After ! was fairly settled out there
on the Los Pueblos ranch, | must say
! felt very lonesome. Father was AVA
most of the time about his business,
and ii wasn't generally convenient to
take me with him. so | was left to my
own for amusement, and few
enough they were.
THE ranch buildings We're 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
-owne IL the other.
The don was the prOudcSt and laZ-
lest mortal it has ever been my luck
10 meet with. He did nothing all day
but lie on Il bench in the sun smoking
.cigarcttes-eNcept when he took a nap
which was about half the time. Oc-
casiona!ly he'd ride over the ranch,
experimenting matters, not often, for
it seemed to be too great an eNertion
for him.
you see. the don was a pure Span
iard-descended straight from n of
the old conquerors of Mexico, l believe
and be was so proud of the fact that
he spent al his time in thinking what
a great man he was, and so had none left
for any other purpose. If he had lived
in a 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 o II
ceit and laziness had plenty of room
to grow.
His son. Pablo. was entirely differ
ent. He was about Il age. and a hand
some boy. too. Such a rider you never
saw: and he could do things with a
lasso that you wouldn't believe without
seeing them.
"ue really managed the ranch, and