In an hour from now," he added, looking from the window, "these clouds will settle down to business.

It will rain; there will be light enough for you to find your way by the regular trail over the mountain, but not enough for any one to know you.

If you can't push through to-night, you can lie over at the _posada_ on the summit.

Them greasers that keep it won't know you, And if they did they won't go back on you.

And if they did go back on you, nobody would believe them.
It's mighty curious," he added, with gloomy philosophy, "but I reckon it's the reason why Providence allows this kind of cattle to live among white men and others made in his image.