open all the rooms, the only entrance to the whole being the zaguan, a pair of huge, massive, wooden doors; on either side being the chief rooms—the sa/a and the office. According to the custom of the country, the farm-hands ought, also, to have moved their dwellings; but it was not done, and they continued to live on at the old place, rancho viejo—a great mistake, as the sequel will show.
Years rolled on, and Gil found himself the father of no less than twenty children. Like a true ranchero, he had a wholesome horror of the corrupt state of large towns, and, consequently, his sons received but little education—no more, in fact, than was to be had in San Juan; but, on the other hand, they grew to be daring and splendid riders — took a pride in owning the finest horses, and the best fighting-cocks, in the district—and would sit for hours over the gaming-table, watching and speculating on the chances of monte—that fascinating, but dangerous game, so dear to the Mexicans. Perfectly satisfied with their father's able management of the estate, none of them cared to interfere, and so it was by a rare chance they ever assembled at home: some would be off to a Fair with cattle; others would be in attendance at some /est2a—no matter how far away—and supremely happy in the bull-ring, leaving only two or three with their father. The sisters had all married, and a cook and her aid were the only female inmates of Barragan. But the fame of their wealth— enormously exaggerated, of course — soon began to be spoken of; and many were the friendly warnings given to Don Cirilo, not to continue his solitary life on the rancho; he was strongly advised to live even in San Juan, or anywhere where danger from the P/agiarios (kidnapers) was less imminent; but he turned a deaf ear to all these wholesome counsels—contenting himself with investing in a few rifles, and having a man
constantly stationed on the azofea, or roof, as lookout.
The year 1869 was fast drawing to its close; and what was the condition of the State of Puebla? In the Sierra, a strong force of Indians had pronounced against the Government, and, headed by one Juan Francisco Lucas, a brave, but unprincipled chief, kept the division of General Alatorre fully employed. On the other side, toward Matamoras Izucar, numerous bands of banditti kept the rural guards on the gué vive, but these were but few in number—quite inadequate to face the situation—and traveling had become a matter of great danger, owing to the roads not being sufficiently guarded. Among those who kept the road from Puebla to San Juan, and all the adjacent country, in terror, were two bold Captains of bands—one of them named Manuel Villa, the other Camilo Bravo. These, at the head of some thirty men each, levied black-mail on all passers; and if any thing fell in their way, such as a well-to-do ranchero, they carried him off to the hills and there detained him till a ransom was paid. The absence of the troops allowed them to act almost with impunity, and soon they cast their longing eyes on Gil and the rancho of Barragan. Gil was supposed at this time to be worth from $250,000 to $300,000, and would therefore be a great prize; but how to get at him? He never left his rancho; at night a guard was mounted, and the zaguan was thick, well locked, and barred. Villa and Bravo put their heads together, resolving to unite their bands to make success doubly sure; but these two worthies could not agree as to the best means of effecting their purpose: each wanted to be leader, and as neither would give way, Villa at last retired in disgust, leaving Bravo to his own resources. But the latter was not to be so easily balked of a good prey: he soon found a man named Paulino Noriega, who fell readily
