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MAY, 1909.
■ered again. The noble and brave are not strengthened, and the hearts
of mothers are made sad. You snatch bread from the child’s mouth,
and never are you found among the helpers. If we keep you among
us, the Great Spirit will despise us!”
He laughed, and made the attempt to snatch the great switch,
but immediately the blows fell thick and fast.
“We have held a council and we banish you,” they repeated one
after another. “You cannot return here again.”
He attempted to resist them but quickly turned and
fled —pursued by them for some distance. Then they
returned with sad faces to their tents. Such has always
been the custom of the Indians: the women whip the
cowards and the renegades out of the camp, and their
action is final.
The water in the baskets was hot, the acorn meal
was being stirred in, and the coming wedding was also
being discussed. There was an undercurrent of regret
among the girls that the son of their Chief should choose
a wife from another village; Ayah’s eyes were heavy,
and the color no longer rose and fell in her cheeks.
talks too much,” said Evay; “she is always smiling, and
she has big feet—as she glanced at Ayah’s tiny feet encased in beaded
moccasins. Ayah leaned over the fire and with two forked sticks lift
ed out a hot stone for the basket. The mush was getting thick.
Presently in lifting the stones from the baskets they came out clean
and the bread was done. Then they hastened with the baskets to the
springs, and left them to cool in the water. Later they would turn
them out —nice, white, round loaves —and put them in the little
houses built on stilts for this purpose.
“We suppose that Photus would choose Ayah for his queen!’’ said
Evay. “He has always protected her, and favored her in many ways.
I should think that Eona would be ashamed to come between them,
but —a Chiefs daughter would be a Chief’s wife! Anyway, she is
queen of her own tribe, and the tribes so joined will always quarrel!”
“Words are immortal, and fly on the wings of the birds,” said
the matron.
“What horses are those galloping to the hills?” called Marche,
and all eyes were turned in the designated direction.
“That’s No Good, surely,” said Ayah.
“It must be, indeed,” said several; “but whose are the horses?
Whose indeed?”
Shortly after noon two men were seen approaching the village.
Instantly every ycung woman and all the children disappeared as
completely as if the earth had swallowed them up. Marche alone sat
in front of her tent, and here and there a withered face peeped from
a tepee opening. The men were soldiers from the Mission Fort. One
was a commander, polite and respectful. Glancing around the tents
he said:
“Your people are away? Do you know anything of two horses
that were tied yonder beyond the hill?’’
Marche looked vacantly toward him. She did not understand,
though he pointed where the horses had stood. Seeing they were not
gaining anything, they next made signs to borrow two horses for a
time. It took an hour to make the arrangement. The squaws were
unwilling to lend, but finally the soldiers rode away on the borrowed
horses. * Down the sides of the canyon they went, until near where
Eona had so suddenly left Juan Rey.
Juan listened to the rapidly approaching horses. He was stunned
by Eona’s sudden departure, for he felt that he had lost her. He
plunged into a clump of bushes and lay as one dead. The horsemen
passed near him, and a little beyond they wheeled and turned. He
heard one say:
“The thing to do is to return to the Mission and start the soldiers
on the trail.”
Juan lay almost unconscious through the whole night. With the
dawn he started away from the scene of his defeat, keeping clear of
the Indian village to travel toward San Francisco. With a spirit of
adventure he had left his palatial home and his beloved mother and
father in the City of Mexico, and certainly had found something
beyond his wildest dreams. He walked on: the thorns tore his clothes
and scratched his face and hands—now covered with blood—but such
was the preoccupation of his mind that he had no realization of the
facts. Up over the steep hills he went, and down through the deep
canyons: he did not know that he was hungry.
A confusion of voices and neighing of hcrses held him in check,
and he sat down. Young No Good ran swiftly past him, toward Santa
Monica Canyon. No Good was thoroughly frightened at the turn
affairs were* taking. His first thought was Eona, who had always
been kind to him. He knew of the attachment between her and
Juan, for had he not been an unsuspected witness to some of their
clandestine meetings! As Juan sat and listened, the noise was draw
ing nearer. Some one was saying:
“He left yesterday morning, on foot, apparently for a ramble.”
Another made a remark, but Juan failed to catch the words
“He is of gentlemanly appearance!” but again the answer was
lost to Juan.
“He is an adventurer of somekind, and without an introduction!”
Then suddenly they came face to face with Juan.
“Ha, here he is!”
They immediately caught him, tied his hands behind him, the
soldiers and Mission Indians screaming and shouting around him.
“You’ll take the Captain’s horses, will you!’’
And they brought the horses that No Good had run off with. An
Indian mounted one, Juan Rey being tied to him, back to back.
“Away to the Palisades with him. Hanging for horse
thieves!”
The shouting, swearing, screaming oaths and confusion was s o
Woman’s Work.
great that it was impossible for Juan to gain the attention of the
leaders.
• • ♦
Allyahs, the Chief of the village in Santa Monica Canyon, was
feeble and stricken in years. He had been well-beloved by his own
people, and also by many of bis neighboring Chiefs. Some of his
neighbors had been boisterous and warlike, and —as often happens to
the peacefully inclined —his tribe had suffered in raids and skirmish
es, until they were few in number: the only heir to the Chief’s place
was Eona; the mother had been dead many years.
Movoric’s tribe, however, was a large and prosperous one. They
occupied two villages—one of which had been given to Photus, his
son, as sub-chief. Chief Allyahs had rested his heart on the promise
given him by Chief Movoric, that his daughter, with her tribe, would
go under the protection of Photus. All had been so settled, and
many friendly Chiefs from the north, south, east and west, were
on their way: some had already arrived, and there was to be a grand
feast and dancing to honor the union. Then the old man thought
he could be gathered to his fathers in peace; but that dear daughter
—the light of his eyes for so many years—was drooping, and begging
that the wedding might not be; gazing in fright at the arriving greats,
and helpless in the preparation.
This morning she stood wan and numb by the brook, when No
Good rushed in upon her, hurriedly speaking a few words.
“Horses!” she cried, and in less time than it takes to tell it, they
were mounted and away to the Palisades. Bewildered by her man
ner, her father and friends followed as soon as they could.
She was at the Palisades almost as soon as the mob, but already
the rope was around Juan’s neck, and they were preparing to hoist
him into the great live oak tree of hanging celebrity. But the noise
was hushed, as the excited, queenly girl rode in among them. With
a commanding gesture she called:
“Stop! stop! you are hanging the wrong man!”
“How do you know?” answered the man with the rope.
“The horses were found with this man!” several called out.
“When were the horses missing?” she questioned.
“Yesterday afternoon!”
“Yesterday afternoon this brave was my guest in Santa Monica
Canyon!’’ Her flashing eyes compelled attention, and her interest
in the prisoner was plain to all
At this time came her old father, brought on a litter by his peo
ple, and Photus and his villagers came after. The way such news
traveled iu those days and among those people seemed a miracle: the
villages by the sycamore were deeply interested!
No Good was explaining to Photus his part in the trouble, and
saying that he had no intention of keeping the horses. With love’s
intuition, Ayah perceived the state of Eona’s heart, and crept softly
near to Photus with eyes full of sympathy. Then came the officials
and the owner of the horses. Am nig this crowd was Father Zil
videa: the day before he had received a letter from John Rey’s aux
ious mother, telling of his patrician rank and asking news of him.
The Coast tribes were still heathen, and so, for his own information
and the young man’s protection, he had joined this bellicose expj
dition.
The ruffian crowd began to realize that the hanging would not
take place. Juan was delivered from his perilous position, and clasp
ed his rescuer in his arms —for Eona’s love saw neither rags nor
blood, but felt only the speechless joy of belonging to her lover; she
now felt that opposition had vanished.
Suddenly the rain came down in a burst, and as they stood under
the immense live oak the old Chief Allyahs fainted. Four of his
men held a blanket over him, and they took him in his litter to his
tepee —Father Zalvidea and the officers following.
When the old Chief had sufficiently recovered Father Z ilvidea
told him who he was and who Juan was, and at the Chief’s request
he proceeded to marry the young people. He presented Juan with a
crucifix, and Juan received it from his hand. He then presented
Eona with one: she, looking at Juan with trusting eyes that some
day he would explain, took the crucifix. Then the Father married
them by the ceremony of the Roman church.
The old Chief closed his eyes with a peaceful smile, and was gone
to the Happy Hunting Grounds.
The Chiefs and friends who had come to Photus’s wedding stayed
to Allyahs’ funeral. Between the showers they mourned and wailed
for him, and when the week was ended he was placed in his tepee,
with all his belongings; with the help of pine knots, they burned the
tent with all that was in it, and then returned home.
The Spanish ladies received Eona kindly. They admired, loved,
and yet envied her. They dressed her in silk, velvet, and lace, that she
might make a good debut in her future home in the City of Mex
ico.
They went —Juan and his bride—on the same vessel that brought
Juan’s letter from his mother on its return trip.
The Great Spirit was watching over the queenly, beautiful Eona,
for in her fine home in Mexico her lovely personality made her a
general favorite.
Photus took Ayah for his queen, and her loving life of devotion
was thoroughly appreciated by him.
The tribe of Santa Monica Canyon went en masse to the Mission,
and also No Good—with Evay for his wife. His alertness made him
useful to Father Z ilvidea, th it great financier and organizer and
priest, and No Good was one ot his right hand men.
The great oak on the Palisades has ceased to be. It was leveled
to the earth by the present owner of the land, but the ghosts who
visit the place of their sudden exit from this stage of being, will see
the great spirit limbs from which they hung.
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