A Summer in a Canyon Part 25

'My book,' said Philip, 'declared that the derivation of the name was very uncertain, and that it was first bestowed on one of the coast bays by Bernal Diaz.'

'Now, Philip!' exclaimed Margery, 'do you suppose we are going to believe that, after Geoff's lovely story?'

'Certainly not; I only thought I'd permit you to hear both sides. I knew of course that you would believe the prettier story of the two-- girls always do!'

'That isn't a "pretty story"--your remark, I mean, so we won't believe it; will we, girls?' asked Bell.

'Now, Polly, your eyes sparkle as if you couldn't wait another minute; your turn next,' said Dr. Winship.

'I am only afraid that I can't remember my contribution, which is really Bell's and still more really Pancho's, for he told it to us, and Bell translated it and made it into a story. We call it "Valerio; or, The Mysterious Mountain Cave."'

'Begins well!' exclaimed Jack.

'Now, Jack, you must be nice. Remember this is Bell's story, and she is letting me tell it so that I can bear my share in the entertainment.'

'Pancho believes every word of it,' added Bell, 'and says that his father told it to him; but as I had to change it from bad Spanish into good English, I don't know whether I've caught the idea exactly.'

'Oh, it will do quite nicely, I've no doubt,' said Jack, encouragingly. 'We've often heard you do good English into bad Spanish, and turn and turn about is only fair play. Don't mind me, Polly; I will be gentle!'

'Jack, if you don't behave yourself I'll send you to bed,' said Elsie; and he ducked his head obediently into her lap, as Polly, with her hands clasping her knees, and with the firelight dancing over her bright face, leaned forward and told the Legend of

VALERIO; OR, THE MYSTERIOUS MOUNTAIN CAVE.

'A long time ago, before the settlement of Santa Barbara by the whites, the Mission padres had a great many Indians under their control, who were known as peons, or serfs. They were given enough to eat, were not molested by the outside Indians, and were entirely peaceable. There were so few mountain pa.s.ses by which to enter Santa Barbara that they were easily held, and of course the padres were anxious to keep their Indians from running away, lest they should show the wilder tribes the way to get in and commit depredations.

These peaceable Indians paid tribute to intermediary tribes to hold the pa.s.ses and do their fighting. Those about the Mission gave corn and cereals and hides and the products of the sea, and got in exchange pinones (pine nuts). One of these Indians, named Valerio, was a strong, brave, handsome youth, whose haughty spirit revolted at his servitude, and, after seeking an opportunity for many weeks he finally escaped to the Santa Ynez mountains, where he found a cave in which he hid himself, drawing himself up by a rope and taking it in after him. The Indians had unlimited belief in Valerio's mysterious and wonderful powers. Pancho says that he could make himself invisible at will, that locks and keys were powerless against him; and that no one could hinder his taking money, horses, or food. All sorts of things disappeared mysteriously by day and by night, and the robberies were one and all laid to the door of Valerio. But after a while Valerio grew lonely in his mountain retreat. He longed for human companionship, and at length, becoming desperate, he descended on the Mission settlement and kidnapped a young Indian boy named Chito, took him to his cave, and admitted him into his wild and lawless life. But Chito was not contented. He liked home and comfortable slavery better than the new, strange life; so he seized the first opportunity, and being a bright, daring little lad, and fleet of foot, he escaped and made his way to the Mission. Arriving there he told wonderful stories of Valerio and his life; how his marvellous white mare seemed to fly, rather than gallop, and leaped from rock to rock like a chamois; and how they lived upon wheat- bread, cheeses, wine, and other delicacies instead of the coa.r.s.e fare of the Indians. He told them the location of the cave and described the way thither; so the Alcalde (he was the mayor or judge, you know, Elsie), got out the troops with their muskets, and the padres gathered the Mission Indians with their bows and arrows, and they all started in pursuit of the outlaw. Among the troops were two hechiceros (wizards or medicine-men), whose bowed shoulders and grizzled beards showed them to be men of many years and much wisdom.

When asked to give their advice, they declared that Valerio could not be killed by any ordinary weapons, but that special means must be used to be of any avail against his supernatural powers.

Accordingly, one of the hechiceros broke off the head of his arrow, cast a charm over it, and predicted that this would deal the fatal blow. The party started out with Chito as a guide, and, after many miles of wearisome travel up rugged mountain sides and over steep and almost impa.s.sable mountain trails, they paused at the base of a cliff, and saw, far up the height, the mouth of Valerio's cave, and, what was more, Valerio himself sitting in the doorway fast asleep.

Alas! he had been drinking too heavily of his stolen wine, or he would never have so exposed himself to the enemy. They fired a volley at him. One shot only took effect, and even this would not have been possible save that the spell was not upon him because of his sleep; but the one shot woke him and, half rising, he staggered and fell from the mouth of the cave to a ledge of rocks beneath. He sprang to his feet in a second and ran like a deer towards a tree where his white mare was fastened. They fired another volley, but, though the shots flew in every direction, Valerio pa.s.sed on unharmed; but just as he was disappearing from view the hechicero raised his bow and the headless arrow whizzed through s.p.a.ce and pierced him through the heart. They clambered up the cliffs with shouts of triumph and surrounded him on every side, but poor Valerio had surrendered to a more powerful enemy than they! Wonderful to relate, he still breathed, though the wound should have been instantly fatal.

They lifted him from the ground and tied him on his snow-white mare, his long hair reaching almost to the ground, his handsome face as pale as death, the blood trickling from his wound; but the mysterious power that he possessed seemed to keep him alive in spite of his suffering. Finally one of the hechiceros decided that the spell lay in the buckskin cord that he wore about his throat--a rough sort of necklace hung with bears' claws and snake rattles--and that he never would die until the magic cord was cut. This, after some consultation, was done. Valerio drew his last breath as it parted asunder, and they bore his dead body home in triumph to the Mission.

'But he is not forgotten. Stories are still told of his wonderful deeds, and people still go in search of money that he is supposed to have hidden in his cave. The Mexican women who tell suertes, or fortunes, describe the location of the money; but, as soon as any one reaches the cave, he is warned away by a little old man who stands in the door and protects the buried treasure. An Indian lad, who was riding over the hills one day with his horse and his dogs, dismounted to search for his moccasin, when he suddenly noticed that the dogs had chased something into a cave in the rocks. He followed, and, peering into the darkness, saw two gleaming eyes. He thrust his knife between them, but struck the air; and, though he had been standing directly in front of the opening, so that nothing could have pa.s.sed him, yet he heard the clatter of hoofs and the tinkle of spurs, and, turning, saw a mysterious horseman, whose pale face and streaming hair melted into the mountain mist, as it floated down from the purple Santa Ynez peaks into the lap of the vine-covered foot- hills below.'

CHAPTER X: MORE CAMP-FIRE STORIES

'And still they watched the flickering of the blaze, And talked together of the good old days.'

'Brava!' 'Bravissima!' 'Splendid, Polly!' exclaimed the boys.

'Bell, you're a great author!'

'Couldn't have done better myself--give you my word!' cried Jack, bowing profoundly to Bell and Polly in turn, and presenting them with bouquets of faded leaves hastily gathered from the ground.

'Polly covered herself with glory,' said the doctor; 'and I am very proud of your part in it, too, my little daughter. I have some knowledge of Pancho's capabilities as a narrator, and I think the "Story of Valerio" owes a good deal to you. Now, who comes next?

Margery?'

'No, please,' said Margery, 'for I have another story. Take one of the boys, and let's have more facts.'

'Yes, something historic and profound, out of the encyclopaedia, from Jack,' said Polly, saucily.

'Thanks, Miss Oliver. With you for an audience any man might be inspired; but--'

'But not a BOY?'

'Mother, dear, remove that child from my sight, or I shall certainly shake her! Phil, go on, just to keep Polly quiet.'

'Very well. Being the oldest Californian present, I--'

'What about Dr. Paul?' asked the irrepressible Polly.

'He wasn't born here,' responded Philip, dryly, 'and I was.'

'I think that's a quibble,' interrupted Bell. 'Papa was here twenty years before you were.'

'It's not my fault that he came first,' answered Philip. 'Margery and I are not only the oldest Californians present, but the only ones. Isn't that so, sir?'

'Quite correct.'

'Oh, if you mean that way, I suppose you are; but still papa helped frame the Const.i.tution, and was here on the first Admission Day, and was one of the Vigilantes--and I think that makes him more of a real Californian than you. You've just "grown up with the country."'

'Bless my soul! What else could I do? I would have been glad to frame the Const.i.tution, admit the State, and serve on the Vigilance Committee, if they had only waited for me; but they went straight ahead with the business, and when I was born there was nothing to do but stand round and criticise what they had done, or, as you express it, "grow up with the country." Well, as I was saying when I was interrupted--'

'Beg pardon.'

'Don't mention it. Uncle Doc has asked me to tell Mrs. Howard and Elsie how they carried on the rodeos ten or fifteen years ago. Of course I was only a little chap'--('VERY little,' murmured his sister)--'but never too small to stick on a horse, and my father used often to take me along. The rodeos nowadays are neither as great occasions, nor as exciting ones, as they used to be; but this is the way a rodeo is managed. When the spring rains are mostly over, and the gra.s.s is fine,--say in April--the ranchero of a certain ranch sends word to all his neighbours that he will hold a rodeo on a certain day or days. Of course the cattle used to stray all over the country, and get badly mixed, as there were no fences; so the rodeo was held for the purpose of separating the cattle and branding the calves that had never been marked.

'The owners of the various ranches a.s.semble the night before, bringing their vaqueros with them. They start out very early in the morning, having had a cup of coffee, and ride to the "rodeo-ground,"

which is any flat, convenient place where canyons converge. Many of the cattle on the hills round about know the place, having been there before, and the vaqueros start after them and drive them to the spot.'

'How many vaqueros would there be?' asked Elsie.

'Oh, nine or ten, perhaps; and often from one thousand to three thousand cattle--it depends on the number of ranches and cattle represented. Some of the vaqueros form a circle round the cattle that they have driven to the rodeo-ground, and hold them there while others go back to the ranch for breakfast and fresh horses.'

'Fresh horses so soon?' said Mrs. Howard. 'I thought the mustangs were tough, hardy little beasts, that would go all day without dropping.'

'Yes, so they are; but you always have to begin to "part out" the cattle with the freshest and best-trained horses you have. The owners and their best vaqueros now go into the immense band of cattle, and try to get the cows and the unbranded calves separated from the rest. You can imagine what skilful engineering this takes, even though you never saw it. Two work together; they start a certain cow and calf and work them through the band of cattle until they near the outside, and then "rush" them to a place three or four hundred yards beyond, where other vaqueros are stationed to receive and hold them. Of course the cattle don't want to leave the band, and of course they don't want to stay in the spot to which they are driven.'

'I don't blame them!' cried Bell impetuously. 'Probably the cows remember the time when they were branded themselves, and they don't want their dear little bossies put through the same operation.'

'Very likely. Then more cows and calves are started in the same way; the greatest difficulty being had with the first lot, for the cattle always stay more contentedly together as the group grows larger.

Occasionally one "breaks" and runs off on the hills, and a vaquero starts after him, throws the reata and la.s.sos him, or "la.s.s's" him, as the California boys say.'

'There must be frightful accidents,' said Mrs. Winship.