to whom I had freely given
both the mustang and my youthful affections. I consider it a proof of
the superiority of masculine friendship that neither the subsequent
desertion of the mustang nor that of the young lady ever made the
slightest difference to Enriquez or me in our exalted amity. To a
wondering doubt as to what I ever could possibly have seen in his sister
to admire he joined a tolerant skepticism of the whole sex. This he was
wont to express in that marvelous combination of Spanish precision and
California slang for which he was justly famous. "As to thees women and
their little game," he would say, "believe me, my friend, your old
Oncle 'Enry is not in it. No; he will ever take a back seat when lofe is
around. For why? Regard me here! If she is a horse, you shall say, 'She
will buck-jump,' 'She will ess-shy,' 'She will not arrive,' or 'She will
arrive too quick.' But if it is thees women, where are you? For when you
shall say, 'She will ess-shy,' look you, she will walk straight; or
she will remain tranquil when you think she buck-jump; or else she will
arrive and, look you, you will not. You shall get left. It is ever so.
My father and the brother of my father have both make court to my mother
when she was but a senorita. My father think she have lofe his brother
more. So he say to her: 'It is enofe; tranquillize yourself. I will go.
I will efface myself. Adios! Shake hands! Ta-ta! So long! See you
again in the fall.' And what make my mother? Regard me! She marry my
father--on the instant! Of thees women, believe me, Pancho, you shall
know nothing. Not even if they shall make you the son of your father or
his nephew."

I have recalled this characteristic speech to show the general tendency
of Enriquez' convictions at the opening of this little story. It is
only fair to say, however, that his usual attitude toward the sex he so
cheerfully maligned exhibited little apprehension or caution in dealing
with them. Among the frivolous and light-minded intermixture of his race
he moved with great freedom and popularity. He danced well; when we went
to fandangos together his agility and the audacity of his figures
always procured him the prettiest partners, his professed sentiments,
I presume, shielding him from subsequent jealousies, heartburnings,
or envy. I have a vivid recollection of him in the mysteries of the
SEMICUACUA, a somewhat corybantic dance which left much to the invention
of the performers, and very