the noble ruins o’ said mission still liftin’ majestic columns o’ doby brick in the purple haze o’ a poetic twilight a little ways down the valley. Well, whilst we was enjoyin’ our repast o’ tortillas an’ goat’s milk in the main dinin’ room Chinook Bill’s artistic eye discovered a incongruous dis-sim-oo-larity in the Mex’s selection o’ household furnitcher, which was sure marvelous to look upon to the unconverted eye o’ good taste, which consisted o’ sacred emblems in onyx, a gilded throne chair which was fit for a pope, a carved mahogany altar table an’ a stately array o’ books bound in stained sheep skin. Chinook Bill takes down one o’ them tomes o’ learnin’ an’ grows exultant yet arful perplexed at the contents thereof. An’ on the cover o’ every one o’ them books was a mouth with two fingers placed over it, which Chinook Bill opines was meant to convey their secret import an’ was forbidden knowledge excep’ to them es wore the cassock an’ paced the sacred patio o’ righteous an’ worldly exclusion. “‘Where you get these?’ says Chinook Bill, polite. “‘Mission,’ says the Mex. “‘Buy,’ says Chinook Bill, ‘five dollars’. “‘_Bueno_,’ says the Mex, an’ we peel him a fiver. Then we packed our purchases on a burro an’ hikes fer the range. “It was that night before the camp-fire I was translatin’ the Spanish in one o’ them tomes o’ learnin’ when I ups suddent like with a yell an’ slaps Chinook Bill a ponderous blow o’ enlightment. “‘Attention!’ says I, ‘here is an unexpurgated account o’ the mysterious city o’ Poaquita which lies in the far interior o’ the Sonora wilderness an’ was once ruled by the descendants o’ Montezuma an’ to which some monks was led captive in that distant time when the mind o’ man runneth not to the contrary! Then I read the glowin’ account, and Chinook Bill waddles his cud an’ looks attentive. “‘Well’, says he, final, ‘what’s the color in yer pan?’ “‘Gold and hidden treasure’, says I, an’ I read some more from the forbidden book. “‘Do you believe it?’ says Chinook Bill arter a pause an’ a long breath, like a woman. “‘Believe?’ says I. ‘Is there anything to dispute it? Have you happened to peroose anything in the way o’ discursive literatchure es would substantiate the impunity o’ a bitter denial?’ “‘I cyaint say es I have,’ says Chinook Bill. “‘Well, then,’ says I, ‘it stands that Poaquita is a potent factor es regyards conjective research, an’ I’m the man es would re-continue that search with joyful alacrity.’ “Then Chinook Bill, the trustin’ child, rose up an’ voiced to the impassioned stars a like sentiment. “‘Here’s the map an’ general directions’, says I, ‘an it’s left fer the valorous to finish a chapter in this splendid drama es was enacted under the opalescent skies o’ a new world.’ “So the next sun seen us pushin’ fer headquarters with them long horns, an’ with our resignations in our pockets. “Ol’ Señor Mendez meets us ten mile off, demandin’ explanations abundant an’ sooperfulous forthwith.