human dwellings.
One afternoon, late in the summer, Dr. Howard Archie was fighting his way back to town along this walk through a blinding sandstorm, a silk handkerchief tied over his mouth. He had been to see a sick woman down in the depot settlement, and he was walking because his ponies had been out for a hard drive that morning.
As he passed the Catholic Church he came upon Thea and Thor. Thea was sitting in a child's express wagon, her feet out behind, kicking the wagon along and steering by the tongue. Thor was on her lap and she held him with one arm. He had grown to be a big cub of a baby, with a constitutional grievance, and he had to be continually amused. Thea took him philosophically, and tugged and pulled him about, getting as much fun as she could under her encumbrance. Her hair was blowing about her face, and her eyes were squinting so intently at the uneven board sidewalk in front of her that she did not see the doctor until he spoke to her.
“Look out, Thea. You'll steer that youngster into the ditch.”
The wagon stopped. Thea released the tongue, wiped her hot, sandy face, and pushed back her hair. “Oh, no, I won't! I never ran off but once, and then he didn't get anything but a bump. He likes this better than a baby buggy, and so do I.”
“Are you going to kick that cart all the way home?”
“Of course. We take long trips; wherever there is a sidewalk. It's no good on the road.”
“Looks to me like working pretty hard for your fun. Are you going to be busy to-night? Want to make a call with me? Spanish Johnny's come home again, all used up. His wife sent me word this morning, and I said I'd go over to see him to-night. He's an old chum of yours, isn't he?”
“Oh, I'm glad. She's been crying her eyes out. When did he come?”
“Last night, on Number Six. Paid his fare, they tell me. Too sick to beat it. There'll come a time when that boy won't get back, I'm afraid. Come around to my office about eight o'clock—and you needn't bring that!”
Thor seemed to understand that he had been insulted, for he scowled and began to kick the side of the wagon, shouting, “Go-go, go-go!” Thea leaned forward and grabbed the wagon tongue. Dr. Archie stepped in front of her and blocked the way. “Why don't you make him wait? What do you let him boss you like that for?”
“If he gets mad he throws himself, and then I can't do anything with him. When he's mad he's lots stronger than me, aren't you, Thor?” Thea spoke with pride, and the idol was appeased. He grunted approvingly as his sister began to kick rapidly behind her, and the wagon rattled off and soon disappeared in the flying currents of sand.
That evening Dr. Archie was seated in his office, his desk chair tilted back, reading by the light of a hot coal-oil lamp. All the windows were open, but the night was breathless after the sandstorm, and his hair was moist where it hung over his forehead. He was deeply engrossed in his book and sometimes smiled thoughtfully as he read. When Thea Kronborg entered quietly and slipped into a seat, he nodded, finished his paragraph, inserted a bookmark, and rose to put the book back into the case. It was one out of the long row of uniform volumes on the top shelf.
“Nearly every time I come in, when you're alone, you're reading one of those books,” Thea remarked thoughtfully. “They must be very nice.”
The doctor dropped back into his swivel chair, the mottled volume still in his hand. “They aren't exactly books, Thea,” he said seriously. “They're a city.”
“A history, you mean?”
“Yes, and no. They're a history of a live city, not a dead one. A Frenchman undertook to write about a whole cityful of people, all the kinds he knew. And he got them nearly all in, I guess. Yes, it's very interesting. You'll like to read it some day, when you're grown up.”
Thea leaned forward and made out the title on the back, “A Distinguished Provincial in Paris.”
“It doesn't sound very interesting.”
“Perhaps not, but it is.” The doctor scrutinized her broad face, low enough to be in the direct light from under the green lamp shade. “Yes,” he went on with some satisfaction, “I think you'll like them some day. You're always curious about people, and I expect this man knew more about people than anybody that ever lived.”
“City people or country people?”
“Both. People are pretty much the same everywhere.”
“Oh, no, they're not. The people who go through in the dining-car aren't like us.”
“What makes you think they aren't, my girl? Their clothes?”
Thea shook her head. “No, it's something else. I don't know.” Her eyes shifted under the doctor's searching gaze and she glanced up at the row of books. “How soon will I be old enough to read them?”
“Soon enough, soon enough, little girl.” The doctor patted her hand and looked at her index finger. “The nail's coming all right, isn't it? But I think that man makes you practice too much. You have it on your mind all the time.” He had noticed that when she talked to him she was always opening and shutting her hands. “It makes you nervous.”
“No, he don't,” Thea replied stubbornly, watching Dr. Archie return the book to its niche.
He took up a black leather case, put on his hat, and they went down the dark stairs into the street. The summer moon hung full in the sky. For the time being, it was the great fact in the world. Beyond the edge of the town the plain was so white that every clump of sage stood out distinct from the sand, and the dunes looked like a shining lake. The doctor took off his straw hat and carried it in his hand as they walked toward Mexican Town, across the sand.
North of Pueblo, Mexican settlements were rare in Colorado then. This one had come about accidentally. Spanish Johnny was the first Mexican who came to Moonstone. He was a painter and decorator, and had been working in Trinidad, when Ray Kennedy told him there was a “boom” on in Moonstone, and a good many new buildings were going up. A year after Johnny settled in Moonstone, his cousin, Famos Serrenos, came to work in the brickyard; then Serrenos' cousins came to help him. During the strike, the master mechanic put a gang of Mexicans to work in the roundhouse. The Mexicans had arrived so quietly, with their blankets and musical instruments, that before Moonstone was awake to the fact, there was a Mexican quarter; a dozen families or more.
As Thea and the doctor approached the 'dobe houses, they heard a guitar, and a rich barytone voice—that of Famos Serrenos—singing “La Golandrina.” All the Mexican houses had neat little yards, with tamarisk hedges and flowers, and walks bordered with shells or whitewashed stones. Johnny's house was dark. His wife, Mrs. Tellamantez, was sitting on the doorstep, combing her long, blue-black hair. (Mexican women are like the Spartans; when they are in trouble, in love, under stress of any kind, they comb and comb their hair.) She rose without embarrassment or apology, comb in hand, and greeted the doctor.
“Good-evening; will you go in?” she asked in a low, musical voice. “He is in the back room. I will make a light.” She followed them indoors, lit a candle and handed it to the doctor, pointing toward the bedroom. Then she went back and sat down on her doorstep.
Dr. Archie and Thea went into the bedroom, which was dark and quiet. There was a bed in the corner, and a man was lying on the clean sheets. On the table beside him was a glass pitcher, half-full of water. Spanish Johnny looked younger than his wife,
