"Here! try some of this; it will help to set you on your feet. They can make coffee, and no mistake. It takes a Spaniard to do that." "What is this fandango Gode has been telling me about?" "Ah! true. We are to have a famous one to-night. You'll go, of course?" "Out of curiosity." "Very well, you will have your curiosity gratified. The blustering old grampus of a Governor is to honour the ball with his presence; and it is said, his pretty senora; that I don't believe." "Why not?" "He's too much afraid lest one of these wild Americanos might whip her off on the cantle of his saddle. Such things have been done in this very valley. By Saint Mary! she is good-looking," continued Saint Vrain, in a half-soliloquy, "and I knew a man--the cursed old tyrant! only think of it!" "Of what?" "The way he has bled us. Five hundred dollars a waggon, and a hundred of them at that; in all, fifty thousand dollars!" "But will he pocket all this? Will not the Government--?" "Government! no, every cent of it. He is the Government here; and, with the help of this instalment, he will rule these miserable wretches with an iron rod." "And yet they hate him, do they not?" "Him and his. And they have reason." "It is strange they do not rebel." "They have at times; but what can they do? Like all true tyrants, he has divided them, and makes them spend their heart's hatred on one another." "But he seems not to have a very large army; no bodyguard--" "Bodyguard!" cried Saint Vrain, interrupting me; "look out! there's his bodyguard!" "Indios bravos! les Navajoes!" exclaimed Gode, at the same instant. I looked forth into the street. Half a dozen tall savages, wrapped in striped serapes, were passing. Their wild, hungry looks, and slow, proud walk at once distinguished them from "Indios manzos," the water-drawing, wood-hewing pueblos. "Are they Navajoes?" I asked. "Oui, monsieur, oui!" replied Gode, apparently with some excitement. "Navajoes!" "There's no mistaking them," added Saint Vrain. "But the Navajoes are the notorious enemies of the New Mexicans! How come they to be here? Prisoners?" "Do they look like prisoners?" They certainly showed no signs of captivity in either look or gesture. They strode proudly up the street, occasionally glancing at the passers with an air of savage and lordly contempt. "Why, then, are they here? Their country lies far to the west." "That is one of the secrets of Nuevo Mexico, about which I will enlighten you some other time. They are now protected by a treaty of peace, which is only binding upon them so long as it may suit their convenience to recognise it. At present they are as free here as you or I; indeed, more so, when it comes to that. I wouldn't wonder it we were to meet them at the fandango to-night." "I have heard that the Navajoes are cannibals."