Sunday Washington globe., 1902-04-27

tremendous roar, and the last that we saw
of him was as he ran madly down the hill
a beautiful bonfire on legs. And he had
left to US some of the jerked meat, for
which we were thankful.
But although that was The last seen Of
the bear it was not the last heard of him.
As he ran fast throUghthe country, with It's
fields OF dried grass, his burning fur set fire
to them as quickly as a torch. and the whole
Of Contra Costa County was iguited in the
most gorgeous blaze it has ever seen--all
because Of the theft of a sinful bear
Majin was educated at the Mission San
Jose, where he studied about as much as a
boy can whose time is largely taken up
with the cares of riding and hunting and
lassoing. He used to tell of certain fiesta
at the mission, the most splendid fiesta Of
them all, when he made record for him
self on horseback record which he
proudly lived up to during the most Of his
life.
There was a bad horse at a ranch near
the mission. Nobody could break it, / was
asked to- l said would and did. Then
was asked to ride il at the fiesta and to
try some feats on its back.
81 knew that any feats would be difficult
from the back Of such horse as this. II
had been as much as could do to get it
under my control. But / was not to be
daunted, especially when was offered the
six-sided slug If could pick it up while
riding
This slug was the fifty-dolIar piece Of old
California. 1t was to be placed on the
ground and was to snatch it while riding
by at full salop.
"As dashed by / reached for the coin.
/ seemed to be flying past it when felt It
beneath my fingers II almost slipped-no
Il had it firmly within my grasp. Along
with it picked up handful of earth.
tossed this in the air and rode on. The
people watching me thought that | had
failed to snatch the coin.
They gathered to look for it II did not
lie where il had been placed It must have
been driven into the ground by my horses
hoofs, they thought They hunted in vain.
For as much as week following there
were hundreds of Indians from all the
country round hunting every day for that
6fty-dollar coin, which to them was easier
than earning the same am cunt. They never
found it. AndI I? 1 will tell you what be-
came of that coin.
There was a saloon near by. A place
where one could buy everything to drink
aud to make one merry That coin had
disappeared from my fingers within FIVE
minutes. l could spare it. But could /
spare the memory of the glorious intoxica-
ton it bought for me? Neverr
DURING the last years of his life he lived
around in cheap lodging houses in Oakland,
and was dependent upon what little he
could earn as a veterinary surgeon who
was old and feeble and not always sober
enough to attend to business Besides this,
he broke wild colts for hire Nobody in all
California knew more about horses than did
he But his Spanish blood rose when he
was called a vaquero He would have it
understood that he was no workingman.
He was a don. the son Of dou. The early
miners, men of fortune, had been his chums
in old San Francisco. He had once worn
SIS calsoneras, lined with blazing silk,
although he died in rs cent overalls that he
had with difficulty paid for. He had worn
a pair of ataderas, a sort of garter, to fasten
his botas de ALA, the tapping tops of his
boots. These ataderas had been made of
braided gold and silver wire, and they had
been worth SIoo aud girl had given them
to him, although he was a lonesome old
pdCuGAOL now With NOBODY 10 care WheLher
lie was clothed or fed He had worn a hat
worth as much with its band, its toquilla.
of silver and gold twisted about the crown.
M jim Castro never married, but he said
that there were three things on which he
was authority. They were wine, women
and horses. He had the tastes of a thor
oughbred sport. Il am GO years old in the
day, but at night am 49,, he said once
He refused over and over again to go to
the poorhouse and he never did. He was
satisfied to live with his black coffee, his
cigarettes and Pioneer. The horses man
ger was full of crumbled French bread,
which the baker furnished him after it had
become stale.
What better food could Pioneer have2''
Castro said. 1T is the finest of wheat"
He never gave up his hope of going to
Mexico. II shall have money some day
and then | shall go. he kept saying.
He never went He never had money.
Poor old Main Castro, the last of the
famous line, is buried in the pOtter's field