“The phiz? What did he mean, child?”
“I did not know then, and told him so, and he said: ‘Well, I will tell you what I mean by a phiz.’ He took a pencil and note book from his pocket, made a few strokes on the paper and handed me a picture of myself. ‘Oh, no.’ I said, on seeing what he meant, ‘I cannot make pictures.’ He left the house, saying he would be back in one-half of an hour. He came as he promised, and brought a little black box, which he said was a camera. He showed me how to use it, and I consented to take it with me the next time we went to carry la ropa to the hotel, and take a picture of the man and woman, also one of the room. I did so, and here it is. Also my phiz.” She handed the pictures to the Governor, and while looking at them intently, he said:
“Can it be possible, child, that this is the picture of the great counterfeiter who operated in Mexico for so many years, and whom I delivered into the hands of the United States authorities? It is, it is. I remember him well. And this, dear child, is your ‘phiz,’ is it? It is not unlike you now. But you were older then than at present, were you not?”
“I was older. I am eight now, and I was eleven when that was made.”
“Mr. Mortingo, the President of the great United States of America,” laughed Governor Lehumada, “was a secret service man in the year 1898. I remember him well. He was a jolly, generous chap, and on coming to Chihuahua I remember the remark he made when he first called upon me. He said:
“‘Uncle Sam has sent me down here to catch some birds who are in your city. They are molding and shoving the queer.’”
“Yes,” said Catalina, “that is what he kept telling me—that they were ‘shoving the queer’”—to which the Governor replied:
“I understood very little English at that time, but the official interpreter put it into the best Spanish he could and I at once saw the point. The Americans were much given to the use of slang then, much of which had a singular fitness. I committed the phrase to memory and never forgot it. Let me see the other picture; the interior of the room.”
The child handed him the picture, and pointing to a certain place in it, said: “There is the lump of silver they were chopping up as we went in. In the kettle over the fire is lead.”
“Ha! ha! ha! ha!” laughed the Governor. “That is very interesting to know. I wonder what will be the feelings of the President, should he remember?”