ckled and
fighting-cocks, tethered by the leg, strutted and crowed, while brown
children of all sizes and ages laughed and screamed as they chased one
another in and out among the crowds or rolled in the dust beneath the
pedestrian's feet.

Old Santa Fe, christened by the early Franciscan Friars, "City of the
Blessed Faith," but in reality a fair wanton, a veritable Sodom and
Gomorrha of iniquity with her _corridos_, her cock-pits and dance and
gambling-halls, threw wide her gates and bade the stranger welcome; and
if he did not receive the worth of his gold in pleasure and substance,
surely it was no fault of Santa Fe's. Besides, it was only a step from a
gaming-table to a Father Confessor.

The soul of old Spain still lived in the land. The click of castanettes
was heard daily in her plazas and streets where the _fandango_ and
_jotta_ were gayly danced; while at night the soft sounds of guitars and
voices issued from out the deep shadow of her walls. Soft hands drew the
latches of casements, and slender figures stepped out upon moonlit
balconies or beneath purple black heavens studded with myriads of golden
stars, and passionate words and vows were exchanged under the cover of
night.

Having passed the day at the Inn of the Stars, where they had been
resting after the fatigues of the long night's ride, the Captain and
Jose again directed their steps toward the town in the cool of the
evening; Jose making for Pedro Romero's gambling-hall, the Captain for
Carlos Moreno's theater, the _Theatro Mexicano_.

Owing to the tardiness of his arrival, he found the house packed to the
doors. The performance, vaudeville in character, had already begun, and
it was only after much elbowing and crowding that he finally succeeded
in making his way to Carlos' private box where the latter awaited him.

A tall, dark woman had just ceased dancing, and as she paused before the
footlights amid a burst of musical accompaniment, the audience with one
impulse rose to its feet and gave vent to prolonged salvos of applause.
Showers of glittering gold and silver coins, bouquets and wreaths of
flowers were flung upon the stage, burying her feet in a wealth and
suffusion of color as she stood smiling and bowing before the audience,
vainly endeavoring to still the tumultuous applause which continued with
deafening uproar until she consented to repeat the performance.

"Delicious--divine--'tis the Chiquita, _amigo mio_!" cried Carlos;
pausing