This road
remained much as the first ox-carts had laid it out; the hills
were gashed by arroyos, some of which were difficult to negotiate,
and in consequence the journey was, from an automobilist's point
of view, decidedly slow. The first night the travelers were forced
to spend at a mud jacal, encircled, like some African jungle
dwelling, by a thick brush barricade.
Jose Sanchez was in his element here. He posed, he strutted, he
bragged, he strove to impress his countrymen by every device. Jose
was, indeed, rather a handsome fellow, with a bold insolence of
bearing that marked him as superior to the common pelador, and,
having dressed himself elaborately for this journey, he made the
most of his opportunities for showing off. Nothing would do him
but a baile, and a baile he had. Once the arrangements were made,
other Mexicans appeared mysteriously until there were nearly a
score, and until late into the night they danced upon the hard-
packed earth of the yard. Alaire fell asleep to the sounds of feet
scuffling and scraping in time to a wheezy violin.
Arriving at Pueblo on the following day, Alaire secured her
passports from the Federal headquarters across the Rio Grande,
while Jose attended to the railroad tickets.
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