Doc Peets is the one white gent I encounters who’s willin’ to mete8 out to Mexicans a squar’ deal from a squar’ deck. I allers reckons these yere equities9 on Peets’ part arises a heap from his bein’ a scientist. You take a scientist like Peets an’ the science in him sort o’ submerges an’ drowns out what you-all might term the racial notions native to the hooman soil. They comes to concloosions dispassionate, that a-way, scientists does; an’ Mexicans an’ Injuns reaps a milder racket at their hands. With sech folks as Old Man Enright an’ me, who’s more indoorated an’ acts on that arrogance10 which belongs with white folks at birth, inferior races don’t stand no dazzlin’ show.
Mexicans, as a herd11, is stunted12 an’ ondeveloped both mental an’ physical. They bears the same compar’son to white folks that these yere little broncos does to the big hosses of the States. In intellects, Mexicans is about ’leven hands high. To go into one of their jimcrow plazas14 is like retreatin’ back’ard three hundred years. Their idees of agriculture is plenty primitive15. An’ their minds is that bogged16 down in ignorance you-all can’t teach ’em nothin’. They clings to their worm-eaten customs like a miser17 to his money. Their plow18 is a wedge of wood; they hooks on about three yoke19 of bulls—measley, locoed critters—an’ with four or five Greasers to screech20 an’ herd an’ chunk21 up the anamiles they goes stampedin’ back’ard an’ for’ard on their sandy river-bottom fields—the same bein’ about as big as a saddle blanket—an’ they calls that plowin’. They sows the grain as they plows22, sort o’ scratches it in; an’ when it comes up they don’t cut it none same as we-all harvests a crop. No; they ain’t capable of sech wisdom. They pulls it up by the roots an’ ties it in bundles. Then they sweeps off a clean spot of earth like the floor of one of these yere brickyards an’ covers it with the grain same as if it’s a big mat. Thar’s a corral constructed ‘round it of posts an’ lariats; an’ next, on top of the mat of grain, they drives in the loose burros, cattle, goats, an’ all things else that’s got a hoof24; an’ tharupon they jams this menagerie about ontil the grain is trodden out. That’s what a Greaser regyards as threshin’ grain, so you can estimate how ediotic he is. When it’s trompled sufficient, he packs off the stalks an’ straw to make mats an’ thatches25 for the ’dobies; while he scrapes up the dust an’ wheat into a blanket an’ climbs onto the roof of his casa an’ pours it down slow onto the ground, an’ all so it gives the wind a openin’ to get action an’ blow away the chaff26 an’ dust.
But what’s the use of dilatin’ on savageries like that? I could push for’ard an’ relate how they makes flour with a stone rollin’-pin in a stone trough; how they grinds coffee by wroppin’ it in a gunny sack an’ beatin’ it with a rock; but where’s the good? It would only go lowerin’ your estimates of hooman nature to no end.
Whatever be their amoosements? Everything on earth amooses ’em. They has so many holidays, Mexicans does, they ain’t hardly left no time for work. They’re pirootin’ about constant, grinnin’ an’ chatterin’ like a outfit27 of bloo-jays.
No; they ain’t singers none. Takin’ feet an’ fingers, that a-way, a Mexican is moosical. They emerges a heap strong at dancin’, an’ when it conies to a fandango, hens on hot griddles is examples of listless abstraction to ’em. With sech weepons, too, as guitars an’ fiddles28 an’ a gourd29 half-full of gravel30 to shake an’ beat out the time, they can make the scenery ring. Thar they stops, however; a Greaser’s moosic never mounts higher than the hands. At singin’, crows an’ guinea chickens lays over ’em like a spade flush over nines-up.
Most likely if I reelates to you-all the story of a day among the Mexicans you comes to a cl’arer glimpse of their loves an’ hates an’ wars an’ merry-makin’s. Mexicans, like Injuns when a paleface is about, lapses31 into shyness an’ timidity same as one of these yere cottontail rabbits. But among themse’fs, when they feels onbuckled an’ at home, their play runs off plenty different. Tharfore a gent’s got to study Mexicans onder friendly auspices33, an’ from the angle of their own home-life, if he’s out to rope onto concloosions concernin’ them that’ll stand the tests of trooth.
It’s one time when I’m camped in the Plaza13 Chaparita. It’s doorin’ the eepock when I freights from Vegas to the Canadian over the old Fort Bascom trail. One of the mules—the nigh swing mule34, he is—quits on me, an’ I has to lay by ontil that mule recovers his sperits.
It’s a fieste or holiday at the Plaza Chaparita. The first local sport I connects with is the padre. He’s little, brown, an’ friendly; an’ has twinklin’ beady eyes like a rattlesnake; the big difference bein’ that the padre’s eyes is full of fun, whereas the optics of rattlesnakes is deevoid of humor utter. Shore; rattlesnakes wouldn’t know a joke from the ace2 of clubs.
The padre’s on his way to the ’dobe church; an’ what do you-all figger now that divine’s got onder his arm? Hymn35 books, says you? That’s where you’re barkin’ at a knot. The padre’s packin’ a game chicken—which the steel gaffs, drop-socket they be an’ of latest sort, is in his pocket—an’ as I goes squanderin’ along in his company, he informs me that followin’ the services thar’ll be a fight between his chicken an’ a rival brass-back belongin’ to a commoonicant named Romero. The padre desires my presence, an’ in a sperit of p’liteness I allows I’ll come idlein’ over onless otherwise engaged, the same bein’ onlikely.
Gents, you should have witnessed that battle! It’s shore lively carnage; yes, the padre’s bird wins an’ downs Romero’s entry the second buckle32.
On the tail of the padre’s triumph, one of his parishioners gets locoed, shakes a chicken outen a bag an’ proclaims that he’ll fight him ag’in the world for two dollars a side. At that another enthoosiast gives notice that if the first parishioner will pinch down his bluff36 to one dollar—he says he don’t believe in losin’ an’ winnin’ fortunes on a chicken—he’ll prodooce a bird an’ go him once.
The match is made, an’ while the chickens is facin’ each other a heap feverish37 an’ fretful, peckin’ an’ see-sawin’ for a openin’, the various Greasers who’s bet money on ’em lugs38 out their beads39 an’ begins to pray to beat four of a kind. Shore, they’re prayin’ that their partic’lar chicken ’ll win. Still, when I considers that about as many Greasers is throwin’ themse’fs at the throne of grace for one as for the other, if Providence is payin’ any attention to ’em—an’ I deems it doubtful—I estimates that them orisons is a stand-off.
As the birds goes to the center, one party sprinkles something on his chicken. At that the opposition40 grabs up his bird an’ appeals to the padre. He challenges the other’s bird because he says he’s been sprinkled with holy-water.
The padre inquires, an’ the holy-water sharp confesses his guilt41. Also, he admits that he hides the gaffs onder the altar cloth doorin’ the recent services so they’ll acquire extra grace an’ power.
The padre turns severe at this an’ declar’s the fight off; an’ he forfeits42 the doctored chicken an’ the gaffs to himse’f a whole lot—he representin’ the church—to teach the holy-water sharp that yereafter he’s not to go seizin’ onfair advantages, an’ to lead a happier an’ a better life. That culprit don’t say a word but passes over his chicken an’ the steel regalia for its heels. You can bet that padre’s word is law in the Plaza Chaparita!
Followin’ this fiasco of the holy-water chicken the Mexicans disperses43 themse’fs to pulque an’ monte an’ the dance. The padre an’ me sa’nters about; me bein’ a Americano, an’ him what you might call professionally sedate44, we-all don’t go buttin’ into the baile nor the pulque nor the gamblin’. The padre su’gests that we go a-weavin’ over to his own camp, which he refers to as Casa Dolores—though thar’s nothin’ dolorous45 about it, the same bein’ the home of mirth an’ hilarity46, that a-way—an’ he allows he’s got some Valley Tan hived up that’ll make me forget my nationality if stoodiously adhered to. It’s needless to observe that I accompanies the beady-eyed padre without a struggle. An’ I admits, free an’ without limitation, that said Valley Tan merits the padre’s encomiums an’ fixes me in my fav’rite theery that no matter what happens, the best happens to the church.
As we crosses the little Plaza on our way to Casa Dolores we passes in front of the church. Thar on the grass lays the wooden image of the patron saint of the Plaza Chaparita. This figger is about four foot long, an’ thar’s a hossha’r lariat23 looped onto it where them Mexicans who gets malcontent47 with the saint ropes him off his perch48 from up in front of the church. They’ve been haulin’ the image about an’ beatin’ it with cactus49 sticks an’ all expressive50 of disdain51.
I asks the padre why his congregation engages itse’f in studied contoomely towards the Plaza’s saint. He shrugs52 his shoulders, spreads his hands palm out, an’ says it’s because the Plaza’s sheep gets sick. I su’gests that him an’ me cut in an’ rescoo the saint; more partic’lar since the image is all alone, an’ the outfit that’s been beatin’ him up has abandoned said corrections to drink pulque an’ exercise their moccasins in the baile. But the padre shakes his head. He allows it’s a heap better to let the public fully53 vent54 its feelin’s. He explains that when the sheep gets well the congregation ’ll round-up the image, give him a reproachful talk an’ a fresh coat of paint, an’ put him back on his perch. The saint ’ll come winner on the deal all right, the padre says.
“Besides,” argues the padre, “it is onneces-sary for pore blinded mortals to come pawin’ about to protect a saint. These yere images,” he insists, “can look after themse’fs. They’ll find the way outen their troubles whenever they gets ready.”
At that we proceeds for’ard to Casa Dolores an’ the promised Valley Tan, an’ leaves the wooden saint to his meditations55 on the grass. After all, I agrees with the padre. It’s the saint’s business to ride herd on the interests of the Plaza Chaparita; an’ if he goes to sleep on the lookout’s stool an’ takes to neglectin’ sech plays as them sheep gettin’ sick, whatever is the Greasers goin’ to do? They’re shore bound to express their disapproval56; an’ I reckons as good a scheme as any is to caper57 up, yank the careless image outen his niche58 with a lariat, an’ lam loose an’ cavil59 at him with a club.
This yere fieste at the Plaza Chaparita is a day an’ night of laughter, dance an’ mirth. But it ends bad. The padre an’ me is over to the dance-hall followin’ our investigations60 touchin’ the Valley Tan an’ the padre explains to me how he permits to his people a different behavior from what’s possible among Americanos.
“I studies for the church in Baltimore,” the padre says, “an’ thar the priest must keep a curb61 on his Americano parishioners. They are not like Mexicanos. They’re fierce an’ headlong an’ go too far. If you let them gamble, they gamble too much; if you let them drink, they drink too much. The evil of the Americano is that he overplays. It is not so with the Mexicano. If the Mexicano gambles, it is only a trifle an’ for pleasure; if he drinks, it is but enough to free a bird’s song in his heart. All my people drink an’ dance an’ gamble; but it’s only play, it is never earnest. See! in the whole Plaza Chaparita you find no drunkard, no pauper62; no one is too bad or too good or too rich or too poor or too unhappy.”
Then the priest beams on me like he disposes of the question; an’ since I’ve jest been drinkin’ his Valley Tan I don’t enter no protests to what he states. From what ensoos, however, I should jedge the padre overlooks his game in one partic’lar.
As me an’ the padre sits gazin’ on at the dance, a senorita with a dark shawl over her head, drifts into the door like a shadow. She’s little; an’ by what I sees of her face, she’s pretty. As she crosses in front of the padre she stops an’ sort o’ drops down on one knee with her head bowed. The padre blesses her an’ calls her “Chiquita;” then she goes on. I don’t pay no onusual attention; though as me an’ the padre talks, I notes her where she stands with her shawl still over her head in a corner of the dance hall.
Across from the little Chiquita is a young Greaser an’ his sweetheart. This girl is pretty, too; but her shawl ain’t over her head an’ she an’ her muchacho, from their smiles an’ love glances, is havin’ the happiest of nights.
“It looks like you’ll have a weddin’ on your hands,” I says to the padre, indicatin’ where the two is courtin’.
“Chiquita should not stay here,” says the padre talkin’ to himse’f. With that he organizes like he’s goin’ over to the little shawled senorita in the corner.
It strikes me that the padre’s remark is a heap irrelevant63. But I soon sees that he onderstands the topics he tackles a mighty64 sight better than me. The padre’s hardly moved when it looks like the senorita Chiquita saveys he’s out to head her off. With that she crosses the dance-hall swift as a cat an’ flashes a knife into the heart of the laughing girl. The next moment the knife is planted in her own.
It’s the old story, so old an’ common thar’s not a new word to be said. Two dead girls; love the reason an’ the jealous knife the trail. Thar’s not a scream, not a word; that entire baile stands transfixed. As the padre raises the little Chi-quita’s head, I sees the tears swimmin’ in his eyes. It’s the one time I comes nearest thinkin’ well of a Mexican; that padre, at least, is toler’ble.
“That is a very sad finale—the death of the girls,” observed the Sour Gentleman, reaching for the Scotch65 whiskey as though for comfort’s sake. “And still, the glimpse you gave would move me to a pleasant estimate of Mexicans.”
“Why then,” returned the Old Cattleman, becoming also an applicant66 for Scotch, “considered as abstract prop’sitions, Mexicans aint so bad. Which they’re like Injuns; they improves a lot by distance. An’ they has their strong p’ints, too; gratitoode is one. You-all confer a favor on a Mexican, an’ he’ll hang on your trail a hundred years but what he’ll do you a favor in return. An’ he’ll jest about pay ten for one at that.
“Speakin’ of gratitoode, Sioux Sam yere tells a story to ’llustrate how good deeds is bound to meet their reward. It’s what the squaws tells the papooses to make ’em kind.” Then to Sioux Sam: “Give us the tale of Strongarm an’ the Big Medicine Elk67. The talk is up to you.”
Sioux Sam was in no sort diffident, and readily told us the following:
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1
abhors
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| v.憎恶( abhor的第三人称单数 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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ledges
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| n.（墙壁，悬崖等）突出的狭长部分( ledge的名词复数 )；（平窄的）壁架；横档；（尤指）窗台 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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prance
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| v.（马）腾跃，(人)神气活现地走 | |
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bigoted
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| adj.固执己见的，心胸狭窄的 | |
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mete
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| v.分配；给予 | |
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equities
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| 普通股，股票 | |
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arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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plazas
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| n.（尤指西班牙语城镇的）露天广场( plaza的名词复数 )；购物中心 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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bogged
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| adj.陷于泥沼的v.（使）陷入泥沼， （使）陷入困境( bog的过去式和过去分词 )；妨碍，阻碍 | |
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miser
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| n.守财奴，吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
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plow
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| n.犁，耕地，犁过的地；v.犁，费力地前进[英]plough | |
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yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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plows
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| n.犁( plow的名词复数 )；犁型铲雪机v.耕( plow的第三人称单数 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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lariat
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| n.系绳，套索；v.用套索套捕 | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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thatches
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| n.（稻草、芦苇等盖的）茅草屋顶( thatch的名词复数 )；乱蓬蓬的头发，又脏又乱的头发 | |
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chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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fiddles
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| n.小提琴( fiddle的名词复数 )；欺诈；（需要运用手指功夫的）细巧活动；当第二把手v.伪造( fiddle的第三人称单数 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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gourd
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| n.葫芦 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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lapses
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| n.失误，过失( lapse的名词复数 )；小毛病；行为失检；偏离正道v.退步( lapse的第三人称单数 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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auspices
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| n.资助，赞助 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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lugs
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| 钎柄 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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forfeits
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| 罚物游戏 | |
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disperses
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| v.（使）分散( disperse的第三人称单数 )；疏散；驱散；散布 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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dolorous
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| adj.悲伤的；忧愁的 | |
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hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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malcontent
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| n.不满者，不平者；adj.抱不平的，不满的 | |
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perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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cavil
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| v.挑毛病，吹毛求疵 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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62
pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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63
irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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64
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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65
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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66
applicant
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| n.申请人，求职者，请求者 | |
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67
elk
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| n.麋鹿 | |
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