"Besides that we get only corn and black beans and not half enough of either of them."
"We are like hogs; we are fed on corn," put in the old woman. "In Sonora we made our tortillas of wheat."
"How long will they starve you?" I asked.
"Until we marry Chinamen," flashed the old woman, unexpectedly.
"Yes," confirmed the home-like one. "Twice they have brought the Chinamen before us, lined them up, and said: 'Choose a man.' Twice."
"And why didn't you choose?"
This question several of the women answered in chorus. In words and wry faces they expressed their abhorrence of the Chinamen, and with tremulous earnestness assured us that they had not yet forgotten their own husbands.
"I begged them," said the old woman, "to let me off. I told them I was too old, that it was no use, that I was a woman no longer, but they said I must choose, too. They will not let me off; they say I will have to choose with the rest."
"Twice they have lined us up," reiterated the homelike one, "and said we must choose. But we wouldn't choose. One woman chose, but when she saw the rest hang back she pushed the man away from her. They threatened us with the rope, but still we hung back. They will give us but one more chance, they say. Then if we do not choose, they will choose for us. And if we do not consent we will be put in the field and worked and whipped like the men."
"And get twelve centavos a day (six cents American) to live on," said the old woman. "Twelve centavos a day with food at the store twice as dear as in Sonora!"
"Next Sunday morning they will make us choose," re-
