As this was a commonplace in the district--no Mexican having capital enough to work a claim and no American having the right to locate one--it was a very natural and inconspicuous way of jumping Señor Aragon y Tres Palacios's abandoned claim. If they discovered the lead immediately afterward it would pass for a case of fool's luck, or at least so they hoped, and, riding out a little each day and sitting on the hotel porch with Don Juan the rest of the time, they waited until patience seemed no longer a virtue. "Don Juan," said De Lancey, taking up the probe at last, "I had a Mexican working for me when we were over in the Sierras--one of your real, old-time workers that had never been spoiled by an education--and he was always talking about 'La Fortuna,' I guess this was the place he meant, but it doesn't look like it--according to him it was a Mexican town. Maybe he's around here now--his name was Mendez." "José Maria Mendez?" inquired Don Juan, who was a living directory of the place. "Ricardo? Pancho? Cruz?" "Cruz!" cried De Lancey. "That was it!" "He lives down the river a couple of miles," said Don Juan, "down at Old Fortuna." "Old Fortuna!" repeated Phil. "I didn't know there was such a place." "Why, my gracious!" exclaimed Don Juan de Dios, scandalized by such ignorance. "Do you mean to say you have been here three days and never heard about Fortuna Vieja? Why, _this_ isn't Fortuna! This is an American mining camp--the old town is down below. "That's where this man Aragon, the big Mexican of the country, has his ranch and store. Spanish? Him? No, indeed--_mitad_! He is half Spanish and half Yaqui Indian, but his wife is a pure Spaniard--one of the few in the country. Her father was from Madrid and she is a Villanueva--a very beautiful woman in her day, with golden hair and the presence of a queen! "No, _not_ Irish! My goodness, you Americans think that everybody with red hair is Irish! Why, the most beautiful women in Madrid have chestnut hair as soft as the fur of a dormouse. It is the old Castilian hair, and they are proud of it. The Señora Aragon married beneath her station--it was in the City of Mexico, and she did not know that he was an Indian--but she is a very nice lady for all that and never omits to bow to me when she comes up to take the train. I remember one time--" "Does Cruz Mendez work for him?" interjected De Lancey desperately. "No, indeed!" answered Don Juan patiently. "He packs in wood from the hills--but as I was saying--" and from that he went on to tell of the unfailing courtesy of the Señora Aragon to a gentleman whom, whatever his present station might be, she recognized as a member of one of the oldest families in Castile.