It was a great surprise to me to see how gracefully these Mexican labourers danced; in spite of the fact that they were dancing on a mud floor and wearing heavy work shoes. Waltzing seemed the favourite, though occasionally they danced Mexican dances. The music was furnished by a string band—all the members of which were labourers in the mines—and was remarkably good. The whole scene was one to be remembered for years. The bright colours of the girls’ dresses, the young men dressed in their Sunday best, with silver-plated buttons on their short jackets and down the outside seam of their tight-fitting trousers, their bright-coloured sashes and enormous felt hats, with which they reserved their partners’ seats while dancing; the ring of lamps, and the circle of spectators blanketed like Indians; the background of oak and mesquite; the cry of the whip-poor-will mixing occasionally with the plaintive wail of the violin, while from the surrounding hills the coyotes joined in chorus.

A young Mexican, when he asks a girl to dance, comes up, hat in hand, to make his request, and if it is granted lays his hat in her seat to hold it for her. The minute the dance is over he brings her right back to her seat, picks up his hat and retires. There are no cozy corners, and no talking and walking about, the etiquette being very strict, even amongst the labouring classes.

Nearly all Mexican music is sad, but very beautiful, and they all seem to be born musicians. I have seldom met in Texas a Mexican who could not sing or play on some musical instrument, if it were only a mouth-organ. Their singing I cannot admire, at least that of the men. Their main object seems to be to sing in as high-pitched a tenor voice as they can accomplish, and as slowly as possible. They seem to have only two kinds of songs: either very mournful—sung slowly; or very vulgar—sung very rapidly. Of course, all the above only applies to the Peon, or labouring class.

CHAPTER XII

Trouble at the Dance—A New Superintendent—Shots in the dark—Arrest of Bud—With a Surveying Party.

I was absorbed in the beauty and strangeness of the scene when suddenly the peacefulness was broken by the “bang-bang” of a pistol, almost in our ears. Everybody jumped, but it was only a young Mexican, who had been “turned down” by his girl, and, having loaded up on mescal, was amusing himself by trying to stampede the crowd. Unfortunately, however, there were other young fellows in the crowd, back of the benches, who, happening to be in the same predicament, decided to assist him, and soon there was “bang-banging” all around the outer circle.

There was a Mexican deputy-sheriff on the ground to keep order, who, when things were getting pretty lively, got up on a stump and made a short speech.

He begged the young fellows to keep quiet, as things had gone as far as decency would permit, and said he would have to arrest the next man who fired a gun. While he was speaking a young Mexican, with more mescal than brains in his head, crept up behind him and fired off his pistol almost in his ear. The deputy turned like a flash, and before the young fellow could use his gun again he dived under his extended arm, caught him by the throat and wrist, pinned him to the ground and took his gun away from him. The minute the deputy had his prisoner down half a dozen young Mexicans ran up to rescue him, but the host and the deputy’s two half-brothers ran to his assistance, and for a minute or two things looked bad. I beat a hasty retreat behind a convenient oak-tree from whence I could observe progress in safety. There was a young German lad at the mines who stood over six feet, and weighed close on 200 lbs., and was “Muy bravo” with his fists. Just as I reached the shelter of my friendly tree he came dashing by me, saying, “Let me in to this! Let me in!” as if I were trying to keep him out. As he ran up to the crowd some one stuck a "Colt’s Frontier 45" under his nose, and he literally fell out backwards.

The determined attitude of the deputy and his friends stopped the trouble, though the dance was broken up. But as the crowd was moving away and the deputy was taking off his prisoner, Padilla, one of his half-brothers, gave a yell and clapped his hands to his stomach. Some one had taken his revenge, as Padilla had a cut which extended from his left hip almost to his right lower ribs, done from behind; the man who did it was never discovered. They carried him back to camp, and within a month he was back at his old job, running the car-hoist out of the mine.

Of course this kind of business was not conducive to good work, and so, in May 1895, a little more than a month after I started work, the new superintendent arrived, bringing with him a new foreman and a shipping clerk. The new superintendent was exactly the opposite of the colonel. He was a short, heavily built Northerner, born in Nantucket. “Details,” so repugnant to the colonel, were just what he was after, and he did not take kindly to drinking and dance halls on the company’s property. He put a stop to the dance hall, and no liquor of any kind was allowed on the company’s land, which comprised 27,000 acres. He caused the sheriff of Uvalde County to appoint him as deputy, so that he could enforce his own orders, and the place began to quiet down.