[Illustration: _The Green Fields of Alfalfa_.]
We had not gone far on our journey before we crossed the bridge over Las
Conchas. The manager of the next section met us soon afterwards, and we
inspected the cattle on his domains. On our way from Polvareda to
Michelot we passed the emporium of the Universal Provider of the North,
in other words, "the stores," where most of the necessities and many of
the luxuries of life can be obtained. The Saint can never resist the
desire of a bargain, and others of the party were anxious to see all
that the stores contained, so we made a halt and inundated the building,
where everything was extraordinarily neat and clean, shelves piled high
with bales of bright-coloured cottons, cloths, and handkerchiefs; hats
hanging in long lines, brilliant saddle-cloths, pipes, knives, tobacco,
axes, leather goods and harness, every variety of tinned foods, barrels
of flour, sugar, etc., all arranged with precision, and showing
cleanliness and method at every turn. Some men were sitting on the
benches, smoking and drinking and chatting together, for apparently "the
stores" constitutes the local rendezvous and news agency for miles
around.
The Saint at once made purchases, for no place is stamped on her memory
unless she has spent money there.
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