I told her she charged too high a price, as chickens were not worth more than twenty-five cents apiece; but she insisted that she wanted a dollar, because she had promised that amount to the padre for reading a mass for a man who had died in the time of Hidalgo at the beginning of the century.
But most of the crowd flocked to my tent to consult me about their ailments.

It was useless to tell them that I was not a medical man, or that I had not much medicine to spare, carrying only what I expected to use for my own party.

If I had given them all they wanted, our little stock would have been exhausted on the first day; but in order to soften my heart they would send me molasses, sugar-cane, and similar delicacies.

One poor old woman who was suffering from cancer even offered me her donkey if I would cure her--an offer in a way equivalent to a Wall Street magnate's millions, for the donkey was her sole possession on earth.
They all were anxious to have me feel their pulse, whether there was anything the matter with them or not.

They firmly believed that this mysterious touch enabled me to tell whether they were afflicted with any kind of disease and how long they were going to live.