weeks, Uncle Kit told me to put on my best suit and he would take me to a fandango. I was not sure what a fandango was but was willing to experience one, just the same, and, togged out in our best, we went to the fandango, which was simply a Mexican dance. Sort of a public ball.
I looked on that night with much interest, but declined to participate further than that. I learned better in a little while, and the fandango, with the tinkle of guitars and mandolins, the clink of the cavalleros' spurs, and the laugh and beauty of the Mexican senoritas, became a great pleasure to me.
Thus began our life at the little Mexican town of Taos, the home of that great hero of the West, Kit Carson.
CHAPTER III.
One evening in October as I was getting ready to retire for the night, Uncle Kit said to me
"Now Willie, to-morrow you must put in the day
