[Frontier Stories by Bret Harte]@TWC D-Link book
Frontier Stories

PROLOGUE
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"It is at your disposition, _caballeros_," he repeated, leading the way as his guests passed into the corridor.
Two hours passed.

The hills were darkening on their eastern slopes; the shadows of the few poplars that sparsedly dotted the dusty highway were falling in long black lines that looked like ditches on the dead level of the tawny fields; the shadows of slowly moving cattle were mingling with their own silhouettes, and becoming more and more grotesque.

A keen wind rising in the hills was already creeping from the _canada_ as from the mouth of a funnel, and sweeping the plains.

Antonio had forgathered with the servants, had pinched the ears of the maids, had partaken of _aguardiente_, had saddled the mules,--Antonio was becoming impatient.
And then a singular commotion disturbed the peaceful monotony of the patriarchal household of Don Juan Briones.

The stagnant courtyard was suddenly alive with _peons_ and servants, running hither and thither.
The alleys and gardens were filled with retainers.


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