It was under Estevan's escort that Hermosa took those long rides of which we spoke above. These continual têtes-à-têtes between a girl of sixteen and a man of twenty-five, which in our hypocritical and prudish world would be considered compromising, seemed very natural to the inhabitants of the hacienda. They knew the profound respect and loyal affection which bound Estevan to his mistress, whom he had dandled on his knees when a child, and whose first steps he had supported. Hermosa, who was as laughing, playful, and teasing as most girls of her age, took very great pleasure in being with Estevan, whom she could torment and plague to her heart's delight without his ever attempting to turn restive at the capricious vagaries of his young mistress. Did he not endure all her caprices with a patience beyond praise?
Don Pedro manifested an affectionate esteem for Manuela and her son. He had great confidence in both, and for the last two years had entrusted Estevan with the important post of major-domo a post he shared, as far as the land was concerned, with Luciano Pedralva, who, however, was placed under his orders.
Thus Estevan Diaz and his mother were, next to the proprietor, the persons of greatest account at the hacienda, where they were treated with infinite respect, not only on account of the post they occupied, but also for the sake of their character, which was duly appreciated by all.
The Mexican hacenderos, whose properties are of immense extent, have a practice at certain times of the year of making a progress through their estates, in order to cast over their holding that "eye of the master" which, according to the favourite saying in Southern America, makes the crops ripen and the cattle fatten. Don Pedro never failed to undertake these tours, on which he was anxiously expected by the inferior persons in his employ, and by the peones of the haciendas, to whom the casual presence of their master brought some temporary alleviation of their miserable lives.
In Mexico slavery, abolished in principle by the Declaration of Independence, no longer exists by right; but it exists de facto through the whole extent of the Confederation; and the following is the adroit manner in which the law is eluded by the rich owners of the soil: Every hacienda necessarily employs a great number of individuals as peones, vaqueros, tigreros, (herdsmen, hunters), &c. All these people are Indios mansos, or civilized Indians that is to say, they have been baptised, and practise, after their own fashion, a religion they will not take the trouble to understand, and which they mix up with most absurd and ridiculous customs derived from their old creeds.
Brutalised by misery, the peones hire themselves, at very moderate wages, to the hacenderos, for the sake of satisfying their two chief vices, gambling and drunkenness. But as Indians are the most thriftless beings in creation, their petty wages never suffice to feed and clothe them; and every day they are liable to die of hunger, if they cannot contrive to procure the ordinary necessaries of life from some source independent of their pay. It is when they have reached this climax that the rich proprietors trap them.
The capataz and major-domo keep in every hacienda, by order of their master, stores filled with clothing, arms, household utensils, and so forth, which are open to the peones, who pawn their labour for the needful articles advanced to them; the prices of the articles being always ten times their value.
It follows, from this simple combination, that the poor devils of peones not only never touch an infinitesimal fraction of the nominal wages allotted to them, but find themselves always on the debit side of the hacendero's balance sheet; and in a few months owe sums they could not possibly pay off in a lifetime. As the law is positive in these cases, the peones are compelled to remain in the service of their masters until, by their labour, this debt is liquidated. Unfortunately for them, their necessities are so imperious at all times, their position so precarious, that, after a life spent in incessant toil, the peones die insolvent. They have lived as slaves, fatally, adscripti glebæ, shamelessly worked, without mercy, down to their latest sigh, by men whom their sweat and their labour have enriched tenfold.
Doña Hermosa, good natured, as girls usually are when brought up in the bosom of their families, generally accompanied her father in these annual progresses, and pleased herself by leaving bounteous marks of her welcome visit with the poor peones.
This year, as in the preceding ones, she had attended Don Pedro de Luna, signalizing her visit to each rancho by relieving, in some way or other, the infirm, the old, and the children.
About forty-eight hours before the day on which our story commences, Don Pedro had left a silver mine he was working some leagues off in the desert, and set off for Las Norias de San Antonio. When he had got within twenty leagues of the hacienda, he felt convinced that his escort was not needed so near his own property, and sent forward Don Estevan and the armed retainers to announce his return, keeping with him only the capataz, Luciano Pedralva, and three or four peones.
Don Estevan had tried to dissuade his master from remaining in the desert almost single-handed, pointing out to him that the Indian frontiers were infested by freebooters and marauders of the vilest kind, who, skulking among the thickets, would be upon the watch for an opportunity of attacking his little band; but, by a singular fatality, Don Pedro, convinced that he had nothing to fear from these vagabonds, who had never exhibited signs of hostility towards him, had insisted on the major-domo's departure, and the latter had been forced to obey, although with reluctance.
The escort rode off; the hacendero quietly continued his road, chatting with his daughter, and laughing at the sinister presentiments clouding the face of the major-domo when he took leave of his master.
The day slipped away without anything happening to confirm the misgivings of Don Estevan; no accident interrupting the monotonous regularity of the march; no suspicious sign excited the fears of the travellers. The desert was at peace; as far as the eye could reach, nothing was to be seen but some straggling herds of elks and antelopes, browsing on the tall and tufted grasses of the prairie.
At sunset Don Pedro and his companions had reached the outskirts of an immense virgin forest, part of which they would have to cross to reach the hacienda, now about a dozen leagues off.
The hacendero resolved to encamp for the night at the edge of the covert, hoping to reach Las Norias early on the morrow, before the great heat of the day set in.
In a short time everything was arranged; a hut of branches was put together for Doña Hermosa; fires were lit, and the horses securely tethered, to prevent their straying during the night.
The travellers supped gaily; after which everyone laid down to sleep as comfortably as he could manage.
However, the capataz, a man trained to Indian artifices, thought it prudent not to neglect a single precaution to secure the repose of his companions. He placed a sentry, to whom he recommended the utmost vigilance, and saddled his horse, with the intention of making a reconnaissance round the camp.