from the Middle-West.
The Judge was hobbling along the pavement like a cat on hot bricks, to the corner. Across the road stood a group of natives in big hats and white calico clothes, all a little the worse for the pulque they had drunk. Nearer, on this side of the road, stood another little gang, of workmen in town clothes.
“There you have them,” said the Judge, flourishing his stick with utter vindictiveness. “There’s the two lots of ’em.”
“What two lots?” said Kate, surprised.
“Those peon fellows and those obreros, all drunk, the lot of them. The lot of them!” And in a spasm of pure, frustrated hate, he turned his back on her.
At the same time they saw the lights of a tram-car rushing dragon-like up the dark