Among the men who came to make acquaintance with the American trader was
a Mexican merchant. Evidently he was a man of some importance, for an
interpreter hastened to introduce him, explaining that this man had been
away on a journey of some weeks among the mines of New Mexico and the
Southwest, and only the day before he had come in from Taos.
"You will find him a prince of merchants, a sound, unprejudiced business
man. His name is Felix Narveo," the American interpreter added.
The two men shook hands, greeting each other in the Spanish tongue. This
Felix Narveo was well dressed and well groomed, but I recognized him at
once as the Mexican of Fort Leavenworth and Independence and Council
Grove.
There was one man in that company, however, who did not come forward at
all. When I first caught sight of him he was looking at me. I stared
back at him with a boy's curiosity, but he did not take his eyes from me
until I had dropped my own. After that I watched him keenly. He seemed
almost too fair for a Mexican--a tall, spare-built man with black hair,
and eyes so steely blue that they were almost black. Everywhere I saw
him--at the corners of the little crowd and in the thick of it.
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