The San Rosario Ranch
as the riders gained on them. Finally, as the men drew near, Millicent
saw the rider nearest her shift the gun from his shoulder and rest it
across the saddle-bow, as if preparing to take aim. Hal, who had seen
the action, instantly called to Millicent to catch the reins, and held
up both his hands. By this time the men were close upon them, and the
one who had shifted his weapon called out in a rough voice,--
"All right, boss; we know you ain't got no money, and we don't want your
life to-day." His companion laughed aloud, and striking spurs to their
horses, they galloped down the high-road. Hal laughed as heartily as
the supposed highwayman, saying,--
"Well, that's a greaser's idea of a joke, I suppose. Adventure number
one has befallen us with few bad consequences. I don't think you were
half as frightened as you were the other day by the snakes."
"No, I fancy I was not. I should not much mind being killed to-day."
This with a little, bitter laugh.
"And why? Let us wait till after luncheon. Barbara has put up a capital
venison pasty,--a real English one, out of the Queen's own receipt
book."
"Well, we will wait for the pie, to please you."
The drive was accomplished with the usual desultory chit-chat, Hal doing
rather more than his share of the joking. As they passed the little
hovel, the wild children ran out, as they had upon the day when they had
visited the camp in the woods; and soon the gray bridge and the little
island were reached. The baskets were unpacked and the luncheon spread
upon the grass by the time the guests arrived. Among them were O'Neil,
Hartley, Ferrara, and Mrs. Shallop, who had come over by the train; with
a party of people from the village, in whom Millicent had never taken
much interest. Galbraith never left Millicent's side; sparing her the
necessity of talking by keeping up an incessant stream of conversation
which she heard vaguely, and of which she understood not one word. In
after days the import of all the young man said came back to her; and
she remembered the quaint Indian legends, the reminiscences of life on
the two edges of the continent, with which Maurice Galbraith kept the
others of the party from her side. She realized what he was doing, and
knew that he only, in all the company, understood and sympathized with
her half-dazed mood; and for his efforts he received more than one
little smile, sadder than tears.
This is one of the stories which the lawyer told her:--
"In the old days, when Father Junipero and his small band of priests and
soldiers came into the wilderness of California, with the cross uplifted
in one hand, the sword grasped in the other, there lived on this island
where we now sit, a beautiful Indian maiden. Her name was a very long
one, and its meaning in our language is the Smile of the Morning. She
lived with the old chief, her father, in a wigwam, where also lived her
sisters and brothers and various of her cousins and distant relatives.
The old chief had many daughters, but the Smile of the Morning was his
favorite child; and she it was who cooked his food for him, when he did
not eat it raw, and brought him his bow and arrows when he started on a
hunting party. The sisters of the favorite daughter all found mates
among the sons of the tribe, but she lived alone with only the wild bird
in the madrone tree for her lover. Her sisters, each of whom carried a
pappoose upon her back, laughed at the Smile of the Morning, and said
that she would die without a husband; but the girl did not mind them.
She was taller, by a head, than any woman of the tribe; she could charm
the wild birds, and draw the feathers from their tails to make
head-dresses for the old chief and ornaments for herself; she could
dance war-dances like one of the braves, only with more grace; and when
she told the stories which the fishes in the river whispered to her, the
old chieftain nodded his head wisely and patted the girl on the
shoulder. She should find a husband in good time; but he must be as
much taller and stronger than the other men of the tribe, as she was
fairer and wiser than her sisters.
"When the missionary priests came, with their white faces and strange
garments fashioned neither from the skin of any animal nor from the
feathers of any bird, and made friendly overtures to the old chief, the
Smile of the Morning fell upon her face in terror. The Indians would
have worshipped the men with the white faces and strange tongue; but to
prove to them that they too were men and adored a God, the priests held
their services and kneeled to the Great Spirit whom they reverenced.
When the new-comers had learned the language of the Indians, and had
built themselves a house and a greater house to their God, the daughter
of the chief grew to be no longer afraid of the black-robed figures.
She eagerly learned the simple lessons which they set for the people;
and it was because of the wonderful learning that they gave her that she
studied so industriously, and not, like her brothers and sisters, to
gain the daily rations of corn. When the early bell called the Indians
to the church of the San Rosario Mission, the Smile of the Morning was
the first to answer the summons; and when the other Indians were
squabbling over their breakfast of maize, she lingered in the sanctuary,
trying to fathom the strange rites which were so much holier than those
of her people, looking into the painted faces in the pictures over the
rude altar, and feeling curiously behind them to ascertain whether the
backs also were painted.
"The soldiers who upheld the authority of the priests were encouraged by
large bounties and grants of land to marry the converted squaws; and in
the course of time several such unions were solemnized at the Mission.
Among the stern old pioneer priests was one young man dear to the Father
Junipero, whose pupil he had been, and who had followed the famous man
on his great mission of converting the heathen Indians. His name was
Fra Antonio. His voice was soft and low, and his eyes open and sad,
with shadows in them, which the Indian maiden had never seen in other
eyes,--shadows like those cast by the white clouds floating before the
sun's face on hot summer afternoons. Fra Antonio was very kind to the
tall beauty of the tribe, and with a never-failing patience strove to
make the doctrines of his religion clear to her simple understanding.
Strange were the means by which the fathers learned to expound their
religion to the savages. To express the great hope of the resurrection,
they put a number of insects in a vessel of water, leaving them there
till they were apparently quite dead. Then the creatures were placed in
a bank of hot ashes, which warmed their frozen, half-dead bodies back to
life. When the gauzy wings were spread, carrying the insects up into
the sunshine again, the fathers marked the words ejaculated by the
Indians, and by that term they called the resurrection.
"New and beautiful were the thoughts which now possessed the mind of the
Indian girl. She learned that to forgive was nobler than to
avenge,--strangest of all doctrines taught by the priests to the red
men. She learned that the stars, pale and fiery, were great worlds like
the one in which she lived, and not the hearts of the brave chiefs
placed in the heavens after death as she had always been taught. Only
the simplest of the great truths which lie like jewels in the tawdry
setting of the Mother Church, did Fra Antonio instil into her childish
mind, which with an unquestioning faith accepted all the young priest
taught. Few among the tribe--perhaps, indeed, no one of the Indians
beside the Smile of the Morning--understood or believed the new
doctrines taught by the priests. These were satisfied that the rites of
baptism and of extreme unction were administered, and that the daily
services were attended, quite conscious that their most potent weapon of
conversion was the ration of _atole_, or prepared corn, which they
served out to the lazy braves. As soon as he became a member of the
church, every redskin was cared for, and a gentle slavery was the
result, in which the priests exacted a certain amount of labor from the
Indian, in turn feeding him and caring for his wants. The art of
weaving was taught, together with civilized agriculture; and the fruit
of the vines was fermented into strong, rough wine, this being reserved
for the service of the altar and the table of the priests. In the eyes
of the zealous missionaries the Indian was the rightful owner of the
soil; and there was no thought of disputing his claim to it. It was
that he might better and more wisely enjoy the fruits of his own land,
and in the next life enter the happier home prepared for all true
followers of the Church of Rome, that the Father Junipero and his band
of soldiers and priests lived and died in the wilderness of California.
How their treatment of the original inhabitants of the soil differed
from that adopted by the enlightened race which now claims the country,
you have seen enough, or at any rate heard enough, of our Indian policy
to appreciate. Instead of improving the land for its owners, as did the
brave missionary priests, we have wrested it from them, driving the
children of those who for centuries have owned the Pacific coast away
from the choicest spots to rocky, desolate lands which have again been
taken from them by the greedy gold-hunters. But all this has happened
since the time when the Smile-of the Morning lived upon this pretty
island, and decked her glossy hair with a coronet of blue-jays'
feathers, that she might be fair in the eyes of one whom she loved. But
a year had passed since the arrival of Fra Antonio, when the old
chieftain noticed that his daughter's step had grown heavy and slow;
that her great eyes danced no more; that her countenance no longer
merited the name of the morning's smile. He was a wise old man for an
Indian; and after thinking the matter over for a week, during which time
he smoked an unusual number of pipes of tobacco, he came to the
conclusion that the girl had been bewitched by one of the strange
priests. Calling her to him, he questioned her as to the cause of her
altered behavior; and from her downcast face and embarrassed replies he
quickly surmised her secret. The Smile of the Morning loved the fair
young priest, and it was for his sake that her tears flowed. The old
chief at first scoffed at her infatuation, and bade her take up with one
of her dusky suitors. But the girl was obstinate; and finally yielding
to her whim, the old chief himself offered his daughter's hand to Fra
Antonio. The young priest, in holy horror, took counsel with his
superiors; and it was explained to the chieftain that though the white
soldiers were free to mate with the maidens of the tribe, the priests
were vowed to celibacy. If the pious young priest had unwittingly
mingled an unwise fervor in his exhortations to the Indian girl, he
bitterly regretted his fault. As day by day he saw her elastic figure
grow more feeble, and marked her hollow cheeks and her sad eyes fixed
reproachfully on him whilst he served the mass or taught the new
converts, a tenderness for her, which her savage health and perfections
had failed to arouse, awoke in his breast. When he saw the young
braves, each with his dusky partner, and the sisters of the Smile of the
Morning with their children in their arms, he sometimes cursed the
priestly habit which proclaimed him a thing apart from all other of
God's creatures, doomed to live unmated and alone. Long vigils and
heavy penances failed to ease the grief in his heart, or to set at rest
its yearning toward the child who had been redeemed from barbarism,