The colt hastily rose to his feet. But not at
the command of the man. No such command
was necessary, for whither went his mother there
went he. Close to her side, he moved with her
into the inclosure, crowding frantically over the
bars, skinning his knees in the effort, coming to
a wide-eyed stand just inside the entrance, and
there surveying with nervous apprehension the
corral's occupants -- a burro, two pigs, a flock of
chickens. But he held close to his mother's side.

Felipe did not linger in the corral. Throwing
off their bridles, he tossed the usual scant supply
of alfalfa to the horses, and filled their tub from a
near-by well. Then, after putting up the bars, he
set out with determined stride across the settlement.
His direction was the general store, and
his quest was the loan of a horse, since his team
now was broken, and would be broken for a number
of days to come.

The store was owned and conducted by one
Pedro Garcia. Pedro Garcia was the mountain
Shylock. He loaned money at enormous
rates of interest, and he rented out horses at
prohibitive rates per day. Also, being what
he was, Pedro had gained his pounds of
flesh -- was alarmingly fat, with short legs of giant
circumference. Usually these legs were clothed
in tight-fitting overalls, and his small feet incased
in boots of high-grade leather wonderfully
roweled. Yet many years had passed since
Pedro had been seen in a saddle. Evidently he
held to the rowels in fond memory of his days of

[[16]]

p015 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p016w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p017

v?