The Valiant Runaways [34]
and went out to the huge kitchen, where countless
Indian servants were busy or resting. They demanded four dozen eggs and
help to blow them at once. The maids hastened to do the bidding of the
little dons, and in less than a quarter of an hour the eggs were free of
their natural contents, and all were busy refilling them with flour, or
cologne, or scraps of gold and silver paper. Then the boys stuffed the
fronts of their shirts, their sleeves, and their pockets with the eggs,
and hid themselves among the palms of the court. Presently the guests
came forth and scattered about the corridor, smiling and chatting in the
soft subdued Spanish way. Suddenly twelve eggs, thrown with supple wrist
and aimed with unfailing dexterity, flew through the air and crashed
softly on the backs of caballeros' curls and donas' braids, flour
powdering, gold and silver paper glittering on the dense blackness of
those Californian tresses, cologne shooting down dignified spines. There
was a chorus of shrieks, and then, as every head whisked about, and as a
blow did not count unless it struck at the back, the boys ran up to the
corridors, dodged under vengeful arms and continued the battle. Finally
they were chased out into the open, and the guests having been provided
with the remaining eggs by Dona Martina, the battle waged fierce and hot
until, exhausted, the guests retired for siesta.
But siesta was brief that day. In less than an hour's time all had
reappeared and were mounting for the race.
XV
The race took place in a field a mile from the house, on a straight
track. Four vaqueros in black velvet small-clothes trimmed with silver,
spotless linen, and stiff glazed black sombreros, walked up and down,
leading the impatient mustangs. Two of these horses were a beautiful
bronze-gold in colour, with silver manes and tails, a breed peculiar to
the Californias; one was black, the other as white as crystal. The
family and guests of Casa Carillo sat on their horses, in their
carretas, or stood just outside the fence surrounding the field. At one
end were the several hundred Indians employed by Don Tiburcio, and
several hundred more from the Mission. Father Osuna had also joined the
party from the Casa, and Roldan, who had seen hundreds of horse-races
and was built on a more complex plan than his contemporaries, got as
close to the priest as he dared and gave him his undivided attention.
Padre Osuna was a man of unusual height and heaviness of build. His
black eyes were set close to his fine Roman nose. The mouth was so
tightly compressed that its original curves were quite destroyed, and
the intellectual development of the brow was very marked. His hands
exerted a peculiar fascination over Roldan. They were of huge size, even
for so big a man, lean and knotted, with square-tipped fingers. The skin
on them was fine and brown; it looked as soft as a woman's. He used them
a good deal when talking, and not ungracefully; but they seemed to claw
and grasp the air, to be independent of the arms hidden in the
voluminous sleeves of the smart brown cassock. Other people watched
those hands too--they seemed to possess a magnetism of their own; and
every one showed this priest great deference: he was one of the most
successful disciplinarians in the Department of California, a brilliant
speaker, an able adviser in matters of state, and a man of many social
graces.
"More agreeable to meet in the sala of the Mission than in a cave at
midnight," thought Roldan. "Still--" His scent for danger, particularly
if it involved a matching of wits, was very keen.
The word was given. The race began. The dons shouted, the lovely faces
between the bright folds of the rebosos flushed expectantly. From the
black mass of Indians opposite came a mighty gurgle, which gradually
broke into a roar,--
"The black! Fifty hides on the black!"
"The little bronze! She is a length ahead! Madre de dios! Six doubloons
of Mexico on the little bronze!"
The priest pushed his way to the speaker, a wealthy ranchero
Indian servants were busy or resting. They demanded four dozen eggs and
help to blow them at once. The maids hastened to do the bidding of the
little dons, and in less than a quarter of an hour the eggs were free of
their natural contents, and all were busy refilling them with flour, or
cologne, or scraps of gold and silver paper. Then the boys stuffed the
fronts of their shirts, their sleeves, and their pockets with the eggs,
and hid themselves among the palms of the court. Presently the guests
came forth and scattered about the corridor, smiling and chatting in the
soft subdued Spanish way. Suddenly twelve eggs, thrown with supple wrist
and aimed with unfailing dexterity, flew through the air and crashed
softly on the backs of caballeros' curls and donas' braids, flour
powdering, gold and silver paper glittering on the dense blackness of
those Californian tresses, cologne shooting down dignified spines. There
was a chorus of shrieks, and then, as every head whisked about, and as a
blow did not count unless it struck at the back, the boys ran up to the
corridors, dodged under vengeful arms and continued the battle. Finally
they were chased out into the open, and the guests having been provided
with the remaining eggs by Dona Martina, the battle waged fierce and hot
until, exhausted, the guests retired for siesta.
But siesta was brief that day. In less than an hour's time all had
reappeared and were mounting for the race.
XV
The race took place in a field a mile from the house, on a straight
track. Four vaqueros in black velvet small-clothes trimmed with silver,
spotless linen, and stiff glazed black sombreros, walked up and down,
leading the impatient mustangs. Two of these horses were a beautiful
bronze-gold in colour, with silver manes and tails, a breed peculiar to
the Californias; one was black, the other as white as crystal. The
family and guests of Casa Carillo sat on their horses, in their
carretas, or stood just outside the fence surrounding the field. At one
end were the several hundred Indians employed by Don Tiburcio, and
several hundred more from the Mission. Father Osuna had also joined the
party from the Casa, and Roldan, who had seen hundreds of horse-races
and was built on a more complex plan than his contemporaries, got as
close to the priest as he dared and gave him his undivided attention.
Padre Osuna was a man of unusual height and heaviness of build. His
black eyes were set close to his fine Roman nose. The mouth was so
tightly compressed that its original curves were quite destroyed, and
the intellectual development of the brow was very marked. His hands
exerted a peculiar fascination over Roldan. They were of huge size, even
for so big a man, lean and knotted, with square-tipped fingers. The skin
on them was fine and brown; it looked as soft as a woman's. He used them
a good deal when talking, and not ungracefully; but they seemed to claw
and grasp the air, to be independent of the arms hidden in the
voluminous sleeves of the smart brown cassock. Other people watched
those hands too--they seemed to possess a magnetism of their own; and
every one showed this priest great deference: he was one of the most
successful disciplinarians in the Department of California, a brilliant
speaker, an able adviser in matters of state, and a man of many social
graces.
"More agreeable to meet in the sala of the Mission than in a cave at
midnight," thought Roldan. "Still--" His scent for danger, particularly
if it involved a matching of wits, was very keen.
The word was given. The race began. The dons shouted, the lovely faces
between the bright folds of the rebosos flushed expectantly. From the
black mass of Indians opposite came a mighty gurgle, which gradually
broke into a roar,--
"The black! Fifty hides on the black!"
"The little bronze! She is a length ahead! Madre de dios! Six doubloons
of Mexico on the little bronze!"
The priest pushed his way to the speaker, a wealthy ranchero