When everybody had left I thought I might as well
get under way, feeling lonesome. I went out and around to the rear of
the house, where the corral was, to get my horse, but found the gate
fastened with chains and securely locked. The corral walls were built
of adobe, and the two walls of it were a continuation of the side
walls of the house, and its end wall formed an enclosure or backyard.
My horse was there, and I found my saddle in one of the rooms of the
building, hidden under a blanket. I entered the corral through the
back door of the house, caught and saddled my horse, and then led him
out to the street. This was a very laughable manner of leave-taking.
The house was cut up into a labyrinth of small rooms, just large
enough for a horse to turn around in, and the doors were low and
narrow. As I could not find the outer door, I led my horse
successively into every room in the house.
There is no furniture such as we use in a typical Spanish dwelling,
no bedsteads, tables, or chairs. The inmates squat on divans arranged
on the floor around the walls of the rooms, and at nighttime they
spread their bedding on the floors. Some of the rooms were nicely
carpeted with Mexican rugs. My horse must have thought he had come to
a suite of stables, for he acted accordingly.
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