The Squatter and the Don. María Amparo Ruiz de Burton

      “Very well; it is larger than I supposed, and the site of it seems very pleasant.”

      “Pleasant! I should say it was. A perfect slope, sir, as gentle and regular as if made to order. The best drained city in the world, sir, when we put in sewers. Too poor for that, yet, sir, but we are coming to it, sir, growing, growing, sir.”

      “When we get the railroad,” added Mathews, with a mouth full of tobacco, spitting profusely on the deck.

      “Exactly, and we'll soon have that. Our news from Washington is very encouraging. Tom Scott will visit us this summer,” Gasbang said.

      “I like a town with plenty of trees,” said Darrell, with his gaze fixed on the approaching panorama, thinking that his wife would be pleased with the place, she being so fond of trees. “I had no idea you had so many trees about you. Many are small, yet, but all seem healthy.”

      “And health-giving trees, they are, too. Most of them are eucalyptus and pepper trees, the healthiest in the world. You never hear of any malarial fevers in San Diego, sir, never. Our perfect climate, the fine sloping ground of our town site, our eucalyptus trees, sea breezes and mountain air, make San Diego a most healthy little city,” said Gasbang.

      “That is an excellent recommendation, as life is not worth having without health,” Darrell observed.

      “We have it here,” Hughes said. “A man has to be very imprudent not to keep well in our climate, sir. All we want now is a little stimulus of business prosperity, and the railroad is sure to bring us that. Then San Diego will be the best place on the coast for a residence.”

      The loud report of a cannon, close by, made Darrell jump and look around quickly, not knowing what that explosion could mean.

      “That is our visiting card to the people of San Diego, to announce our coming,” said the captain, laughingly. “I am sorry it startled you.”

      “That is nothing. I didn't know I had nerves. I believe that is what women call it. I was not expecting such a military salute,” Darrell said.

      “O yes, we always give it. The San Diego people are very military. At least, I should say the settlers on Señor Alamar's rancho are, as I hear they practice rifle shooting there all the time,” the captain said, looking at Mathews and Gasbang.

      “That is a shot at us,” Gasbang answered, laughing.

      “But it is a blank cartridge, meant not to hurt,” the captain replied.

      “The rifle practice is in dark nights,” said a young Spaniard, who had been listening at what was said by the others.

      “Or in the daytime, if the cattle deserve it,” Mathews said.

      “That is very creditable and brave, to shoot tame cows,” the Spaniard rejoined.

      “Perhaps you had better come and try it,” Mathews returned.

      “Thank you. It is the mischievous brutes I would like to shoot, not the good, useful cattle;” so saying, the Spaniard walked away, followed by the scowls of the settlers.

      “That is impudence for you,” Gasbang exclaimed.

      “Those greasers ain't half crushed yet. We have to tame them like they do their mustangs, or shoot them, as we shoot their cattle,” said Mathews.

      “O, no. No such violent means are necessary. All we have to do is to take their lands, and finish their cattle,” said Hughes, sneeringly, looking at Darrell for approval. But he did not get it. Darrell did not care for the Spanish population of California, but he did not approve of shooting cattle in the way which the foregoing conversation indicated. To do this, was useless cruelty and useless waste of valuable property, no matter to whom it might belong. To destroy it was a loss to the State. It was folly.

      “Why must cattle be shot? Can't they be kept off, away from your crops without shooting them?” he asked.

      “Not always. At first, that is, for the first three years after we located our claims,” Gasbang said; “we had to shoot them all the time. Now the Don has sold a good many, or sent them to the mountains, so that few have been killed.”

      “I suppose fencing would be too expensive.”

      “Phew! It would be ruinous, impossible,” Mathews said.

      “Mr. Mechlin is the only one who has attempted to put up any fences,” Romeo said, who had been listening in silence.

      “He did so, because he is an old hypocrite,” Mathews said.

      “Because his daughter Lizzie is going to marry Gabriel Alamar, and of course, they have to be on friendly terms,” said Hughes.

      “That ain't the reason. He fenced a hundred acres the first year, and he never sows outside, so that he's not at all troubled by the Don's cattle,” said Romeo.

      “But Gabriel is going to marry Lizzie all the same, and the two families are as thick as can be. Old Mechlin has gone back on us. I wish he would go away,” Mathews said.

      “Why should he go? He paid a very good price for his farm, and has made many improvements,” said Romeo.

      “Who did he buy from?” asked Darrell.

      “From me. I sold him that claim, and took up another a mile up the valley,” said Mathews.

      “And a good bargain it was, too,” Romeo observed.

      Mathews gave him a black look, but made no answer.

      The steamer had now reached the wharf. The deck was filled with passengers and their baggage ready for shore. Pittikin, with wife and daughters blonde and freckled, and Hughes, with his wife and daughters dark and gypsy-looking, were all there, ready for their drive to Alamar.

      There were several wagons, light and heavy, waiting to convey the newly-arrived and their luggage to the Alamar rancho. Darrell, having his choice of conveyances, preferred to go in a light wagon with Romeo Hancock, but Gasbang and Mathews joined him. Miller and Hager had come to meet their prodigal sons, who had been in San Francisco for several months, when they had permission to remain only a few weeks. But they had fallen into Peter Roper's company, and that individual had represented the fascinations of whiskey most alluringly to them, advising them to have a good time now that they had the opportunity. They yielded to the tempter, and now had returned home like repentant prodigals.

      In a few hours Darrell was driving by Don Mariano Alamar's house, a one-story mansion on a low hill, with a broad piazza in front, and in the interior a court formed by two wings, and a row of rooms variously occupied at its back. That the house was commodious, Darrell could see. There was a flower garden in front. At the back there were several “corrales” for cattle and horses. At the foot of the hill, on the left, there was an orchard, and some grain fields enclosed with good fences.

      Darrell took notice of all these particulars. He also noticed that there were females on the front piazza. He was taken to see the best unoccupied lands to make his selection. He ran his practiced eye over the valley from the highest point on the hill. He then came to the next bench; he stopped there, also, and finally came to the broad slope of the foothills.

      “I think I'll locate here,” said he, “if no one else has already filed a claim to this land.”

      This he said to his fellow-settlers, all being present, addressing all.

      “I am sure I have no objection,” said Hughes.

      “Nor I, neither,” said Gasbang. “What do you say, Pittikin and Mathews? Do you know if this land is located, or who done it?”

      Mathews shook his head in the negative, and kept on chewing his tobacco in silence.

      Pittikin said, “I reckon nobody is located here, and if they done it, why don't they leave stakes? They leave no stakes, no notice to settlers; they can't make any row if somebody else takes the land.”

      “Well,