Vagabond Life in Mexico

by Gabriel Ferry

Having finished this last sentence with a drawling affectedness, Pepito whispered into the ear of the licentiate some words which I could not make out. I only remarked that he pointed out to Don Tadeo a group of hillocks on our left, over which hovered a flock of great black vultures. Without replying to Pepito, the licentiate stopped his horse a moment, and looked in a different direction. His face had a painful expression in it. He then signed to us to continue our route, spurred his horse vigorously, and a few minutes after we clattered through the streets of the village in which my new property was situated.

The house which Don Tadeo had gained (for he had at first taken possession in his own name) was situated at the extremity of the village. Crowds of villagers, who had assembled to share in the largesses which are usually distributed on an occasion of this kind, stood before the house, and assisted us in recognizing it. It was a little building of a very sorry appearance, with a small porch before the door, supported by brick pillars. Numerous cracks furrowed the walls in every direction, clearly indicating a sad state of disrepair. Behind the house was a garden choked with weeds, surrounded by a wall thickly covered with moss, and crowned with pellitories. The porter, whom the licentiate had put in charge of the house, opened the door. "You are in your own house," said Don Tadeo to me. We entered. The interior of the house was as desolate as the exterior. The ceilings were gaping with chinks, the disjointed boards in the stairs creaked sadly under foot, and the garden was nothing more than a collection of sentern, nettles, and thistles, in the midst of which rose some sickly-looking fruit-trees. This wretched house and garden, however, were almost equal to the debt, and that was sufficient; the more in the case of such a debtor as Peralta was, with whom one could not be too exacting.

After visiting the ground floor and the garden, we went up stairs. The room which we first entered seemed to have been a dining-room, and had not been entered for many years, if one could judge from the musty smell which pervaded the apartment. We hastened to let in the air and light by opening the strongly-barred window-shutters. A collection of spiders' webs, thickly matted together, covered the entire ceiling. We looked into the presses, but they were all empty; one only contained a large dusty tome, in an antique binding, which the licentiate put under his cloak after hurriedly glancing over its contents. Our inspection was over. "Let us call the witnesses," said Don Tadeo to Pepito, whom we have constituted upon this solemn occasion master of the ceremonies. The lépero, magnificently dressed in his blue manga, advanced to the casement, and made a short speech to the worthy people in rags, who were collected in groups beneath the windows. The eloquence of Pepito had the desired effect, and a few minutes afterward the court was filled with a far greater number of witnesses than the law required. I had never seen such a rich collection of gallows-birds. Preceded by Pepito, we descended into the court, and thence into the garden, followed by the crowd. "Señores," cried Pepito, in a loud voice, "you are witnesses that, in the name of the law, his lordship here present," and Pepito pointed to me, "takes regular possession of this estate. Dios y Libertad!" Don Tadeo then came forward. By his instructions I first plucked a handful of grass and threw it over my head, and then pitched a stone over the garden wall. These, by the terms of the Mexican law, are the ceremonies which accompany the act of taking possession. A general hurrah now burst from the throats of the respectable company assembled in the garden. All that now remained, according to national usage, was to present some gratuity to the dirty ruffians who had crawled from every corner of the village to wish me joy of my new possession. I gave them a few piastres to drink, and, headed by Pepito, they went to spend them in the neighboring cabaret.

"Well," said the licentiate to me, when we were alone, "you see you have got payment of your debt. What do you think of my plan for making stubborn debtors pay?"

"I fear, Don Tadeo, that you are playing a very dangerous game for yourself; and, if you would take my advice, you would give up business immediately as redresser of wrongs, as I think the losses exceed the profits."

"You see, however, that I am fortunate in my enterprises. Never mind. But as I may prematurely receive a dagger-thrust some day or other, I would like you to keep some remembrance of me. Here is a book which was not comprised in the inventory of the house. It is an old work, and not without its value."

"Thank you," said I to the licentiate, taking the dusty tome. "The story that you told me on the azotea of the house in the Callejon del Arco will ever live in my recollection. One can not easily forget such revelations; and I was very fortunate indeed in listening to such a romantic history."

The time had now come when we must return to Mexico. Without waiting for Pepito, who would probably finish the day at a wine-shop, we pushed along. The heat was as insupportable as before. The flock of vultures that Pepito had pointed out to Don Tadeo had evidently increased, and a fetid odor was wafted by the wind in our direction from the little mounds above which the birds were fluttering. The licentiate drew up suddenly.

"If you are curious to read the last page of the history of which we were just talking," said he, "go over to these hillocks; but I fear your nerves are not strong enough."