I followed the crowd, in company with my friend Jackson, and was admitted into the saloon upon the payment of half a dollar. This fund was to defray the expense of lights and music.
On passing through the doorway I was forcibly impressed with the scene. Some fifty or sixty couples were dancing to the most horrible scraping of fiddles I had ever heard, marking the time by snapping their fingers, whistling, and clapping their hands. The fiddles were accompanied by a dreadful twanging of guitars; and an Indian in one corner of the saloon added to the din by beating with all his might upon a rude drum. There was an odor of steaming flesh, cigarritos, garlic, and Cologne in the hot, reeking atmosphere that was almost suffocating; and the floor swayed under the heavy tramp of the dancers, as if every turn of the waltz might be the last. The assemblage was of a very mixed character, as may well be supposed, consisting of native Californians, Sonoranians, Americans, Frenchmen, Germans, and half-breed Indians.
Most of the Mexicans were rancheros and vaqueros from the neighboring ranches, dressed in the genuine style of Caballeros del Campaña, with black or green velvet jackets, richly embroidered; wide pantaloons, open at the sides, ornamented with rows of silver buttons; a red sash around the waist; and a great profusion of gold filigree on their vests. These were the fast young fellows who had been successful in jockeying away their horses, or gambling at monté. Others of a darker and lower grade, such as the Sonoranians, wore their hats and machillas just as they had come in from camp; for it was one of the privileges of the fandango that every man could dress or undress as he pleased. A very desperate and ill-favored set these were—perfect specimens of Mexican outlaws.
The Americans were chiefly a party of Texans, who had recently crossed over through Chihuahua, and compared not unfavorably with the Sonoranians in point of savage costume and appearance. Some wore broadcloth frock-coats, ragged and defaced from the wear and tear of travel; some red flannel shirts, without any coats—their pantaloons thrust in their boots in a loose, swaggering style; and all with revolvers and bowie-knives swinging from their belts. A more reckless, devil-may-care looking set it would be impossible to find in a year's journey. Take them altogether—with their uncouth costumes, bearded faces, lean and brawny forms, fierce, savage eyes, and swaggering manners—they were a fit assemblage for a frolic or a fight. Every word they spoke was accompanied by an oath. The presence of the females imposed no restraint upon the subject or style of the conversation, which was disgusting to the last degree. I felt ashamed to think that habit should so brutalize a people of my own race and blood.
Many of the señoritas were pretty, and those who had no great pretensions to beauty in other respects were at least gifted with fine eyes and teeth, rich brunette complexions, and forms of wonderful pliancy and grace. All, or nearly all, were luminous with jewelry, and wore dresses of the most flashy colors, in which flowers, lace, and glittering tinsel combined to set off their dusky charms. I saw some among them who would not have compared unfavorably with the ladies of Cadiz, perhaps in more respects than one. They danced easily and naturally; and, considering the limited opportunity of culture they had enjoyed in this remote region, it was wonderful how free, simple, and graceful they were in their manners.
THE BELLE OF THE FANDANGO.
The belle of the occasion was a dark-eyed, fierce-looking woman of about six-and-twenty, a half-breed from Santa Barbara. Her features were far from comely, being sharp and uneven; her skin was scarred with fire or small-pox; and her form, though not destitute of a certain grace of style, was too lithe, wiry, and acrobatic to convey any idea of voluptuous attraction. Every motion, every nerve seemed the incarnation of a suppressed vigor; every glance of her fierce, flashing eyes was instinct with untamable passion. She was a mustang in human shape—one that I thought would kick or bite upon very slight provocation. In the matter of dress she was almost Oriental. The richest and most striking colors decorated her, and made a rare accord with her wild and singular physique; a gorgeous silk dress of bright orange, flounced up to the waist; a white bodice, with blood-red ribbons upon each shoulder; a green sash around the waist; an immense gold-cased breast-pin, with diamonds glittering in the centre, the greatest profusion of rings on her fingers, and her ears loaded down with sparkling ear-rings; while her heavy black hair was gathered up in a knot behind, and pinned with a gold dagger—all being in strict keeping with her wild, dashing character, and bearing some remote affinity to a dangerous but royal game-bird. I thought of the Mexican chichilaca as I gazed at her. There was an intensity in the quick flash of her eye which produced a burning sensation wherever it fell. She cast a spell around her not unlike the fascination of a snake. The women shunned and feared her; the men absolutely worshiped at her shrine. Their infatuation was almost incredible. She seemed to have some supernatural capacity for arousing the fiercest passions of love, jealousy, and hatred. Of course there was great rivalry to engage the hand of such a belle for the dance. Crowds of admirers were constantly urging their claims. It was impossible to look upon their excited faces and savage rivalry, knowing the desperate character of the men, without a foreboding of evil.
"Perhaps you will not be surprised," said Jackson, "to hear something strange and startling about that woman. She is a murderess! Not long since she stabbed to death a rival of hers, another half-breed, who had attempted to win the affections of her paramour. But, worse than that—she is strongly suspected of having killed her own child a few months ago, in a fit of jealousy caused by the supposed infidelity of its father—whose identity, however, can not be fixed with any certainty. She is a strange, bad woman—a devil incarnate; yet you see what a spell she casts around her! Some of these men are mad in love with her! They will fight before the evening is over. Yet she is neither pretty nor amiable. I can not account for it. Let me introduce you."