fficers, with their men and the funeral
caisson, returned to their quarters in silent order.

CHAPTER XXIII

REAPING AND THRESHING--A PIONEER FUNERAL--THE HOMELESS AND WAYFARING
APPEAL TO MRS. BRUNNER--RETURN OF THE MINERS--SOCIAL GATHERINGS--OUR
DAILY ROUTINE--STOLEN PLEASURES--A LITTLE DAIRYMAID--MY DOGSKIN SHOES.

Reaping and threshing were interesting events to us that summer.
Mission Indians, scantily clothed, came and cut the grain with long
knives and sickles, bound it in small sheaves, and stacked it in the
back yard opposite grandma's lookout window, then encircled it with a
rustic fence, leaving a wide bare space between the stack and the
fence, which they swept clean with green branches from live oak trees.

After many days, Mexican drivers brought a band of wild mares to help
with the work. A thick layer of unthreshed grain was pitched on to the
bare space surrounding the stack and the mares were driven around and
around upon it. From time to time, fresh material was supplied to meet
the needs of the threshers. And, at given signals from the men on the
stack, the mares were turned out for a short rest, also in order to
allow the Indians a chance to throw out the waste straw and to heap the
loose grain on the winnowing ground. So they did again and again,
until the last sheaf had been trodden under foot.

When the threshing was finished, the Indians rested; then prepared
their fires, and feasted on the head, feet, and offal of a bullock
which grandpa had slaughtered.

Like buzzards came the squaws and papooses to take what was left of the
food, and to claim a share from the pile of worn-out clothes which
grandma brought out for distribution. Amid shouts of pleasure,
gesticulations, and all manner of begging, the distribution began, and
when it ended, our front yard looked as though it were stocked with
prize scarecrows.

One big fellow was resplendent in a battered silk hat and a tattered
army coat; another was well dressed in a pair of cast-off boots and one
of grandma's ragged aprons. Georgia and I tried to help to sort the
things as they should be worn, but our efforts were in vain. Wrong
hands would reach around and get the articles, and both sexes
interchanged suits with apparent satisfaction. Grandma got quite out of
patience with one great fellow who was trying to put on a petticoat
that his squaw needed, and rushed up to him, jerked it off, gave him a
vigorous push, and had the garment