would come in handy, such as fowls
or panoche (brown sugar). One woman offered me three chickens for one
dollar. I told her she charged too high a price, as chickens were not
worth more than twenty-five cents apiece; but she insisted that she
wanted a dollar, because she had promised that amount to the padre
for reading a mass for a man who had died in the time of Hidalgo at
the beginning of the century.

But most of the crowd flocked to my tent to consult me about their
ailments. It was useless to tell them that I was not a medical man, or
that I had not much medicine to spare, carrying only what I expected
to use for my own party. If I had given them all they wanted, our
little stock would have been exhausted on the first day; but in
order to soften my heart they would send me molasses, sugar-cane,
and similar delicacies. One poor old woman who was suffering from
cancer even offered me her donkey if I would cure her--an offer in
a way equivalent to a Wall Street magnate's millions, for the donkey
was her sole possession on earth.

They all were anxious to have me feel their pulse, whether there was
anything the matter with them or not. They firmly believed that this
mysterious touch enabled me to tell whether they were afflicted with
any kind of disease and how long they were going to live. A woman in
delicate condition wanted me to feel her pulse and to tell her from
that when her child was going to be born. I only hope that my practical
advice and the little medicine I could give them relieved some of their
backaches and sideaches, their felons, croups, and fevers and agues,
and above all, their indigestion, which is the prevailing trouble in
that section of the country. But I confess that I was nearly tired out
with these consultations. In consequence of frequent intermarriages
there are many deaf and dumb persons among them, and epilepsy and
insanity are by no means rare.

On the other hand, I was assured that such a character as a thief was
here unknown. However this might be, it was certain that the Mexicans
of Eastern Sonora were a nice class of people. They were pleasant to
deal with, very active and obedient, and I never wish for better men
than those I then had in my camp, nearly all of whom were from these
parts. The people were poor, but genuinely hospitable. Of course
they were ignorant, and might not, for instance, recognise a check
unless it was green. In each town, however, I found one or two men
c