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The children were fast asleep, all four in the big bed behind the curtain; the wind blew hard outside, and the snow beat on the window-panes; the room was large, and the fire so small and feeble that it didn't half warm the little bare toes peeping out of the old shoes on the hearth. Tessa's father was an Italian plaster-worker, very poor, but kind and honest.
Don Guillermo, the plaster-worker, Mariano, Manuel and I, seizing whatever weapons were convenient at hand, started for the jail. We found an excited crowd gathered around the doorway. On a log before the door there sat a creature crazy-drunk. I have never seen a case more horrible. He screamed, yelled, gnashed his teeth, struck and snapped at everyone around. The whole village stood in terror.
I thereupon refused to measure or photograph any person until my demand had been met. I showed them, clearly, the position in which they had placed themselves; I stated that when they had done a wrong, and a stranger demanded an official statement of the case, their duty was simple and clear. By this time my own party was in arms; photographer, plaster-worker, Manuel, all were scared.
Here, as so frequently, the old fashion is at once more comfortable and more artistic. We spent the morning in efforts to secure horses, but finally secured a man, Don Nabor, who agreed to accompany us with five animals. The party consisted of myself, my interpreter, my plaster-worker, and Don Nabor. Each of us was mounted, and a fifth horse carried the plaster and other luggage.
We had left the securing of the boxes and the packing of the busts to our plaster-worker, and, though we knew he had had difficulty, imagined that he had secured all needed, and that the busts would be all ready. Diligent search, however, had secured but two boxes, and ridiculous prices had been demanded for those.
Instantly the flowers were cleared away, the next delegation ushered in, and the same ceremony gone through with. Finally, all was ready for our leaving. The party consisted of five persons myself, as leader, Mr. Lang, my American photographer, Don Anselmo, my Mexican plaster-worker, Manuel, and the mozo. All but the mozo were mounted on horses, more or less good or bad.
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