Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain;
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue,
And e'en in penance planning sins anew,"
quoted the Colonel with mock solemnity, as we hove in sight of the Corralitos country.
"I don't know much about 'luxury,'" ejaculated Joe, "unless you're looking for fleas and chilies."
As we surveyed the glorious expanse of country before us I could not forbear saying: "Colonel, I thought that the Animas was the 'boss' ranch in the country."
"In another country; we're in Mexico now," he rejoined.
"You won't catch him," said Joe. "Years ago, when Frisco was blooming, and the stock market was alive there, a period of depression occurred once, and I asked Cabeza what he thought about it. 'Oh, things have reached bottom,' he said. A few days afterwards, when they had gone a durned sight lower, I showed him the stock list, and reminded him of what he had said. 'Well, well,' said he, 'I meant high bottom, of course; we're getting down to low bottom now.'"
The Colonel shook his head hopelessly. "Did Joe say he remembered that, or invented it? Well, Joe'll say anything; he don't care what he says. But this isn't a finer range than the Animas, anyhow—only, of course, they own every acre of it, and can put a ring-fence round it if they like, and that's an advantage."
We drove on and in due course reached the hacienda, which lay near the river, and was situated about the centre of the property. In former times over a thousand people had dwelt here, but the population had now dwindled to half that number, consisting principally of the wives and families of the workmen employed by the Corralitos Company on the San Pedro mines.