He now lived with his uncle, that Senor Manuel Garcia whom Clara has mentioned, a trader with California, an owner of vast estates and much cattle, and reputed to be one of the richest men in New Mexico.
The two often quarrelled, and the elder had once turned the younger out of doors, so lively were their dispositions.

But as Garcia had lost one by one all his children, he had at last taken his nephew into permanent favor, and would, it was said, leave him his property.
The house, a hollow square built of _adobe_ bricks in one story, covered a vast deal of ground, had spacious rooms and a court big enough to bivouac a regiment.

It was, in fact, not only a dwelling, but a magazine where Garcia stored his merchandise, and a caravansary where he parked his wagons.

As Coronado lounged into the main doorway he was run against by a short, pursy old gentleman who was rushing out.
"Ah! there you are!" exclaimed the old gentleman, in Spanish.

"O you pig! you dog! you never are here.