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Lola and Edith May Jonas were whispering together. They had not noticed Alejandro. "The man is waiting," said the boy, in her ear. Jane touched Lola. "Keep my seat, dear," she said. "Some one wants to speak to me." And she followed Alejandro across the field. Alejandro's vagabundo came forward to meet her with an air of light cordiality.
But our conductor simply threw the stones, whereas the goat-herd uses the aloe-fibre honda, or sling, that one sees hanging by dozens in the Mexican shops. We pass near Churubusco, and along the line by which the American army reached Mexico. The field of lava which they crossed is close at our right hand; and just on the other side of it lie Tisapán and our friend Don Alejandro's cotton-factory.
I think it would be difficult for us to collaborate; there is no possible bond of unity in what we write." "How is that?" "You are one of these eloquent writers, and I am not." This remark gave great offence. Another reason for Alejandro's enmity was an opinion expressed by my brother, Ricardo.
From above clamored the first "trip" of cars. Day and its work had begun. Alejandro's red cap was a mere speck in the cañon, and his herd was sprinkled, like bread-crumbs, over the slaty hills. But over in the Vigil yard the numberless other little Vigils were to be seen, and Jane, as she looked, began to see that some sort of excitement was stirring them.
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