s! there has always been a
beginning and an ending to everything under the sun, good or evil. The
awakening from an easy life's dream was occasioned by a crushing blow.
It fell on the day of final reckoning, when Don Guillermo, my good
uncle, thought the time was propitious to realize something tangible on
sundry duly signed, sealed, and witnessed instruments. There was a
rumpus; neither earthquake nor cyclone would have caused a greater
commotion in the community. What, then, did this lying gringo mean by
resorting to the trickery of the United States law courts and the power
and services of the county sheriff? Why did he wrest their property
from them? Had this gringo not always accepted their signatures as a
legal tender for the payment of their debts? Had he not told them time
and again that their handwriting was better than gold? If uncle had
fallen into the clutches of these furious people, he would undoubtedly
have been lynched. But he had wisely disposed of all his property in
the country and had left with his family for the States. I remained in
the service of the buyer of and successor to his business.

Soon after I began to feel lonesome, restless and dissatisfied, and
that life among the natives was not as pleasant and satisfactory as
formerly may be easily imagined. In fact, the gringos were now
cordially hated and envied by a certain class, the element of greatest
influence among the people. This produced a feeling of unpleasantness
not to be overcome, and I resolved to emigrate to California, overland,
by way of Arizona. I longed for the companionship of people of my own
race and wanted to see more of the world. There was an opportunity to
go to a mining town of northern Arizona, with several ox-teams which
were freighting provisions. The freighter, Don Juan Mestal, assured me
that he was very glad to have the pleasure and comfort of my company
and would not listen to an offer of remuneration on my part. He said
there was the choice of two routes; one road passed through the country
of the Navajo Indians and the other road led past Zuhl, the isolated
Pueblo village. Don Juan said that he would not go by way of Zuni, if
he could avoid it, as he was prejudiced against this tribe. Not that
they were hostile or dangerous, but he had acquired a positive
aversion, amounting to abhorrence, for those peaceful people when he,
as a boy, accompanied his father on a trading expedition there. At that
time he witnessed