I was curious to know more of the interesting couple, but had been riding hard that day, and the prospect of a good bed was just then more attractive than character study with a pair of strolling Mexicans for subjects. The séance of fortune telling ended, I was glad to pay for my entertainment and say good-night to them.
“Gracias, Señor—buenos noches. We are much thankful, my Chiquita and I. Is it not so, my Chiquita?”
The old woman bowed gracefully, and echoed her companion’s expression of appreciation and farewell greeting. As I turned to enter the inn the landlord met me at the door, saying:
“Your room’s all ready, Mister. It’s been ready for more’n an hour. I seen you was havin’ your fortune told, an’ as the old gal allus dishes up as good ones for the money as can be had in these diggin’s, I thought I wouldn’t disturb ye. I hope ye got all the trimmin’s that was comin’ to ye,” and he grinned expansively.
“I have no fault to find with the fortune the old woman told me,” I replied smilingly; “it was doubtless better than I deserve, and I suspect much better than I will ever experience. I was far more interested in Chiquita and Ramon, her companion, than in her skill as a fortune teller. I am curious to learn something of them. Do you know anything about them?”
“Why, no, leastwise not enough to hurt. The old gal is some sort of a gypsy, I reckon. She sure is, if there’s any Mexican gypsies. The feller with her is a Greaser all right, though I’ll allow I don’t know nothin’ else agin him. They blew in on this town about ten years ago, an’ have been comin’ here off an’ on, workin’ the fortune tellin’ racket ever since.”
“Well, they are not likely to get rich at it,” I said. “Vallecito does not seem to be a very profitable field for their particular specialty.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” replied the genial Jim. “Of course, this town ain’t what she was in the early days,” and the old “forty-niner” sighed retrospectively. “But it ain’t so bad, after all. It’s a little out o’ season now, but when strangers come through here on the way to Mariposa and Calaveras, I reckon it’s pretty good pickin’ for the old woman and her pal. The Big Trees and the Calaveras caves draw pretty good crowds, and they’re the kind of people that’s got mighty tender feet, too—an’ some money. I sort o’ like them kind, myself.”
“Is anything known of the history of those Mexicans before they came to this part of the country?” I asked.
“No; we folks don’t ask questions much, an’ Ramon, the Greaser, aint one of the talkative kind. Anyhow, he don’t talk much to us. I reckon though, that some o’ them tourists knows how to make him loosen up. There was a feller here once that writ stories for magazines an’ such, who told me that Ramon had spun him some pretty wild yarns, an’ I believe he writ some of ’em down in a book.”