The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1902-02-14
The Street Car
To TopoChico
WHY PATRICIA ROBBED
THE DRIVER.
BY JOHN n. RAFFERTY,.

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Four miles above Monterey toward
Topo Chico, uplifted from the dust and
dead heat of the plain, lies the haci-
enda of Jose del Casa, the alcalde.
His white home sits enshrined in
wilderness Of green, encinctured by
5000 acres Of vines and corn lands
and billowing meadows that reach
from edge 10 edge Of the steep walled
| table fountain of which his estate is
the crown and glory.
Patricia his only child. Is. with sloe
black eyes. hair like a stormcloud and
the oval. luminous face Of Botticelli
Madonna. had spent three years with
the Ladies of the Sacred Heart in
| Paris. She had seen the boulevards
and shifted from afar the gallantry and
gayety of the French capital. There
fore she yearned and moped amid the
desolate splendor of her Mexican
! home.
Have you ever seen the queer little
street car line with its tandem of small
brown mules that runs, or, rather,
creeps, between the Hotel IIidalgo. on
the plaza in Monterey, down through
the narrow streets. away across the
dusty fields. where sage and cactus,
dry and gray. cover the rising plateaus
with desolate monotony; out past the
beetling buttes of Casas Hacienda,
which tower red and hot in the sun, 10
the uprising canyon that leads TO Topo
Chico. the boiling spring, the health
giving waters in whose fountain pool
Aztec and Indian, peOn and patrician,
have sought and found. health for a
thousand years? This Topo Chico is
the terminus of the little narrow gauge
street car line that starts in Monterey.
Its single car, with open seats running
across the width of it. are seldom
crowded. In the morning n few tour
lists bound for the baths smoke and
idle through the tedious trip. but in
the evening. when the summer sun
sinks behind the green, cool shoulders
of Del Casas, the lone car is always
empty except for the driver or an err
rant shepherd returning from market
in Monterey
1t was at this time in the evening
that Patricia chose for little iaunt on
! that queer little street car. With an
cient Madre AnSelma. her nurse when
she was a rompng child, her govern
ess, maid and duenna by turns as the
girl grew to womanhood, Patricia
would ramble down the long stone
stairway and in the purple shadow of
! the roadside thicket wait for that emp
ty car TO come droning out of the haze.
Anselma neither spoke nor understood
English. and SO ii was her wont 10 sit
! in the rear seat while the beautiful Pa
tricia. her mantilla now fallen from
before her radiant face. would sit on
the front seat near the driver and urge
or bride him TO send the little mules
galloping
The driver was a great. yellow haired
| giant. with blue eyes and laughing
mouth. For Patricia he would speed
! his queer little team till the car swayed
like n boat on running pillows and her
delighted laughter fell upon his will
ing ears like the music of tinkling man
dolins. AS for Anselma, so long as the
car was empty but for themselves she
was content 10 sit in the rear seat,
black. motonless. but alert. smoking
her cigarettes. as Mexican women must
and wondering what Patricia could
have said TO the big, fair Gringo to
make him drive his mules so fast, to
make him smile so benignantly.
Every summer evening till the cha
parra lost its luster and the willows i'm
the river bed began to scatter cracking
| leaves across the sands Patricia and
her chaperon stole away TO this clan
! destine frolic on the street car till il
became the event of the gay child's
days and habit even with the with
cred woman who watched the harm
! less frolic
One night as the blond American car
driver was laughing and thrashing over
the road with the laughing senorita at
his elbow a horseman with his rifle
presented locmed across the narrow
road. The mules hesitated. stopped,
backed up in their trace chains. The
driver put down brake and ceased to
smile. He seized the switch bar babe
/ Il
money or your lifew commanded the
outlaw in good English.
"You can have the box" roared the
driver, "but If you rob the woman you
must fight"
The robber dismounted. boarded the
car, and while Patricia and the old
woman looked on he smashed I'm the
money box with the butt of his rifle
and pocketed the few pitiful centavos
that jingled In the bottom. IL Patricia
had left the car, or drawn up her lace
mantilla, or even turned her face away,
the robber might not have seen the
diamond brooch glistening at her
throat But the sight was too much
for him. The big American saw the
fash Of his eyes as he leveled his rifle.
and at the same moment the switch
bar swung above his head. The rifle