V
THE room in which Father Salvierderra always slept when at the SenoraMoreno's house was the southeast corner room. It had a window to thesouth and one to the east. When the first glow of dawn came in the sky,this eastern window was lit up as by a fire. The Father was always onwatch for it, having usually been at prayer for hours. As the first rayreached the window, he would throw the casement wide open, and standingthere with bared head, strike up the melody of the sunrise hymn sung inall devout Mexican families. It was a beautiful custom, not yet whollyabandoned. At the first dawn of light, the oldest member of the familyarose, and began singing some hymn familiar to the household. It was theduty of each person hearing it to immediately rise, or at least sit upin bed, and join in the singing. In a few moments the whole family wouldbe singing, and the joyous sounds pouring out from the house likethe music of the birds in the fields at dawn. The hymns were usuallyinvocations to the Virgin, or to the saint of the day, and the melodieswere sweet and simple.
On this morning there was another watcher for the dawn besides FatherSalvierderra. It was Alessandro, who had been restlessly wandering aboutsince midnight, and had finally seated himself under the willow-trees bythe brook, at the spot where he had seen Ramona the evening before. Herecollected this custom of the sunrise hymn when he and his band wereat the Senora's the last year, and he had chanced then to learn that theFather slept in the southeast room. From the spot where he sat, he couldsee the south window of this room. He could also see the low easternhorizon, at which a faint luminous line already showed. The sky was likeamber; a few stars still shone faintly in the zenith. There was nota sound. It was one of those rare moments in which one can withoutdifficulty realize the noiseless spinning of the earth through space.Alessandro knew nothing of this; he could not have been made to believethat the earth was moving. He thought the sun was coming up apace,and the earth was standing still,--a belief just as grand, just asthrilling, so far as all that goes, as the other: men worshipped the sunlong before they found out that it stood still. Not the most reverentastronomer, with the mathematics of the heavens at his tongue's end,could have had more delight in the wondrous phenomenon of the dawn, thandid this simple-minded, unlearned man.
His eyes wandered from the horizon line of slowly increasing light, tothe windows of the house, yet dark and still. "Which window is hers?Will she open it when the song begins?" he thought. "Is it on this sideof the house? Who can she be? She was not here last year. Saw the saintsever so beautiful a creature!"
At last came the full red ray across the meadow. Alessandro sprang tohis feet. In the next second Father Salvierderra flung up his southwindow, and leaning out, his cowl thrown off, his thin gray locksstreaming back, began in a feeble but not unmelodious voice to sing,--
"O beautiful Queen, Princess of Heaven."
Before he had finished the second line, a half-dozen voices had joinedin,--the Senora, from her room at the west end of the veranda, beyondthe flowers; Felipe, from the adjoining room; Ramona, from hers, thenext; and Margarita and other of the maids already astir in the wings ofthe house. As the volume of melody swelled, the canaries waked, and thefinches and the linnets in the veranda roof. The tiles of this roof werelaid on bundles of tule reeds, in which the linnets delighted to buildtheir nests. The roof was alive with them,--scores and scores, nayhundreds, tame as chickens; their tiny shrill twitter was like thetuning of myriads of violins.
"Singers at dawn From the heavens above People all regions; Gladly we too sing,"
continued the hymn, the birds corroborating the stanza. Then men'svoices joined in,--Juan and Luigo, and a dozen more, walking slowly upfrom the sheepfolds. The hymn was a favorite one, known to all.
"Come, O sinners, Come, and we will sing Tender hymns To our refuge,"
was the chorus, repeated after each of the five verses of the hymn.
Alessandro also knew the hymn well. His father, Chief Pablo, had beenthe leader of the choir at the San Luis Rey Mission in the last years ofits splendor, and had brought away with him much of the old choir music.Some of the books had been written by his own hand, on parchment. He notonly sang well, but was a good player on the violin. There was not atany of the Missions so fine a band of performers on stringed instrumentsas at San Luis Rey. Father Peyri was passionately fond of music, andspared no pains in training all the neophytes under his charge whoshowed any special talent in that direction. Chief Pablo, after thebreaking up of the Mission, had settled at Temecula, with a small bandof his Indians, and endeavored, so far as was in his power, to keepup the old religious services. The music in the little chapel of theTemecula Indians was a surprise to all who heard it.
Alessandro had inherited his father's love and talent for music, andknew all the old Mission music by heart. This hymn to the
"Beautiful Queen, Princess of Heaven,"
was one of his special favorites; and as he heard verse after verserising, he could not forbear striking in.
At the first notes of this rich new voice, Ramona's voice ceased insurprise; and, throwing up her window, she leaned out, eagerly lookingin all directions to see who it could be. Alessandro saw her, and sangno more.
"What could it have been? Did I dream it?" thought Ramona, drew in herhead, and began to sing again.
With the next stanza of the chorus, the same rich barytone notes. Theyseemed to float in under all the rest, and bear them along, as a greatwave bears a boat. Ramona had never heard such a voice. Felipe hada good tenor, and she liked to sing with him, or to hear him; butthis--this was from another world, this sound. Ramona felt every note ofit penetrating her consciousness with a subtle thrill almost like pain.When the hymn ended, she listened eagerly, hoping Father Salvierderrawould strike up a second hymn, as he often did; but he did not thismorning; there was too much to be done; everybody was in a hurry tobe at work: windows shut, doors opened; the sounds of voices from alldirections, ordering, questioning, answering, began to be heard. The sunrose and let a flood of work-a-day light on the whole place.
Margarita ran and unlocked the chapel door, putting up a heartfeltthanksgiving to Saint Francis and the Senorita, as she saw the snowyaltar-cloth in its place, looking, from that distance at least, as goodas new.
The Indians and the shepherds, and laborers of all sorts, were comingtowards the chapel. The Senora, with her best black silk handkerchiefbound tight around her forehead, the ends hanging down each side of herface, making her look like an Assyrian priestess, was descending theveranda steps, Felipe at her side; and Father Salvierderra had alreadyentered the chapel before Ramona appeared, or Alessandro stirred fromhis vantage-post of observation at the willows.
When Ramona came out from the door she bore in her hands a high silverurn filled with ferns. She had been for many days gathering and hoardingthese. They were hard to find, growing only in one place in a rockycanon, several miles away.
As she stepped from the veranda to the ground, Alessandro walked slowlyup the garden-walk, facing her. She met his eyes, and, without knowingwhy, thought, "That must be the Indian who sang." As she turned to theright and entered the chapel, Alessandro followed her hurriedly, andknelt on the stones close to the chapel door. He would be near when shecame out. As he looked in at the door, he saw her glide up the aisle,place the ferns on the reading-desk, and then kneel down by Felipe infront of the altar. Felipe turned towards her, smiling slightly, with alook as of secret intelligence.
"Ah, Senor Felipe has married. She is his wife," thought Alessandro, anda strange pain seized him. He did not analyze it; hardly knew what itmeant. He was only twenty-one. He had not thought much about women. Hewas a distant, cold boy, his own people of the Temecula village said.It had come, they believed, of learning to read, which was always bad.Chief Pablo had not done his son any good by trying to make him likewhite men. If the Fathers could have stayed, and the life at the Missionhave gone on, why, Alessandro could have had work to do for the Fathers,as his father had
before him. Pablo had been Father Peyri's right-handman at the Mission had kept all the accounts about the cattle; paid thewages; handled thousands of dollars of gold every month. But that was"in the time of the king;" it was very different now. The Americanswould not let an Indian do anything but plough and sow and herd cattle.A man need not read and write, to do that.
Even Pablo sometimes doubted whether he had done wisely in teachingAlessandro all he knew himself. Pablo was, for one of his race, wise andfar-seeing. He perceived the danger threatening his people on all sides.Father Peyri, before he left the country, had said to him: "Pablo, yourpeople will be driven like sheep to the slaughter, unless you keep themtogether. Knit firm bonds between them; band them into pueblos; makethem work; and above all, keep peace with the whites. It is your onlychance."
Most strenuously Pablo had striven to obey Father Peyri's directions. Hehad set his people the example of constant industry, working steadily inhis fields and caring well for his herds. He had built a chapel in hislittle village, and kept up forms of religious service there. Wheneverthere were troubles with the whites, or rumors of them, he went fromhouse to house, urging, persuading, commanding his people to keep thepeace. At one time when there was an insurrection of some of the Indiantribes farther south, and for a few days it looked as if there wouldbe a general Indian war, he removed the greater part of his band, men,women, and children driving their flocks and herds with them, toLos Angeles, and camped there for several days, that they might beidentified with the whites in case hostilities became serious.
But his labors did not receive the reward that they deserved. With everyday that the intercourse between his people and the whites increased,he saw the whites gaining, his people surely losing ground, and hisanxieties deepened. The Mexican owner of the Temecula valley, a friendof Father Peyri's, and a good friend also of Pablo's, had returnedto Mexico in disgust with the state of affairs in California, and wasreported to be lying at the point of death. This man's promise to Pablo,that he and his people should always live in the valley undisturbed,was all the title Pablo had to the village lands. In the days when thepromise was given, it was all that was necessary. The lines marking offthe Indians' lands were surveyed, and put on the map of the estate. NoMexican proprietor ever broke faith with an Indian family or village,thus placed on his lands.
But Pablo had heard rumors, which greatly disquieted him, that suchpledges and surveyed lines as these were corning to be held as of novalue, not binding on purchasers of grants. He was intelligent enoughto see that if this were so, he and his people were ruined. All theseperplexities and fears he confided to Alessandro; long anxious hours thefather and son spent together, walking back and forth in the village, orsitting in front of their little adobe house, discussing what could bedone. There was always the same ending to the discussion,--a long sigh,and, "We must wait, we can do nothing."
No wonder Alessandro seemed, to the more ignorant and thoughtless youngmen and women of his village, a cold and distant lad. He was made oldbefore his time. He was carrying in his heart burdens of which theyknew nothing. So long as the wheat fields came up well, and there wasno drought, and the horses and sheep had good pasture, in plenty, on thehills, the Temecula people could be merry, go day by day to their easywork, play games at sunset, and sleep sound all night. But Alessandroand his father looked beyond. And this was the one great reason whyAlessandro had not yet thought about women, in way of love; this,and also the fact that even the little education he had received wassufficient to raise a slight barrier, of which he was unconsciouslyaware, between him and the maidens of the village. If a quick, warmfancy for any one of them ever stirred in his veins, he found himselfsoon, he knew not how, cured of it. For a dance, or a game, or afriendly chat, for the trips into the mountains after acorns, or to themarshes for grasses and reeds, he was their good comrade, and they werehis; but never had the desire to take one of them for his wife, enteredinto Alessandro's mind. The vista of the future, for him, was filledfull by thoughts which left no room for love's dreaming; one purpose andone fear filled it,--the purpose to be his father's worthy successor,for Pablo was old now, and very feeble; the fear, that exile and ruinwere in store for them all.
It was of these things he had been thinking as be walked alone, inadvance of his men, on the previous night, when he first saw Ramonakneeling at the brook. Between that moment and the present, it seemedto Alessandro that some strange miracle must have happened to him. Thepurposes and the fears had alike gone. A face replaced them; a vaguewonder, pain, joy, he knew not what, filled him so to overflowing thathe was bewildered. If he had been what the world calls a civilized man,he would have known instantly and would have been capable of weighing,analyzing, and reflecting on his sensations at leisure. But he was nota civilized man; he had to bring to bear on his present situation onlysimple, primitive, uneducated instincts and impulses. If Ramona had beena maiden of his own people or race, he would have drawn near to her asquickly as iron to the magnet. But now, if he had gone so far as to eventhink of her in such a way, she would have been, to his view, as farremoved from him as was the morning star beneath whose radiance he hadthat morning watched, hoping for sight of her at her window. He did not,however, go so far as to thus think of her. Even that would havebeen impossible. He only knelt on the stones outside the chapel door,mechanically repeating the prayers with the rest, waiting for her toreappear. He had no doubt, now, that she was Senor Felipe's wife; allthe same he wished to kneel there till she came out, that he might seeher face again. His vista of purpose, fear, hope, had narrowed now downto that,--just one more sight of her. Ever so civilized, he could hardlyhave worshipped a woman better. The mass seemed to him endlessly long.Until near the last, he forgot to sing; then, in the closing of thefinal hymn, he suddenly remembered, and the clear deep-toned voicepealed out, as before, like the undertone of a great sea-wave, sweepingalong.
Ramona heard the first note, and felt again the same thrill. She was asmuch a musician born as Alessandro himself. As she rose from her knees,she whispered to Felipe: "Felipe, do find out which one of the Indiansit is has that superb voice. I never heard anything like it."
"Oh, that is Alessandro," replied Felipe, "old Pablo's son. He is asplendid fellow. Don't you recollect his singing two years ago?"
"I was not here," replied Ramona; "you forget."
"Ah, yes, so you were away; I had forgotten," said Felipe. "Well, hewas here. They made him captain of the shearing-band, though he was onlytwenty, and he managed the men splendidly. They saved nearly all theirmoney to carry home, and I never knew them do such a thing before.Father Salvierderra was here, which might have had something to do withit; but I think it was quite as much Alessandro. He plays the violinbeautifully. I hope he has brought it along. He plays the old San LuisRey music. His father was band-master there."
Ramona's eyes kindled with pleasure. "Does your mother like it, to havehim play?" she asked.
Felipe nodded. "We'll have him up on the veranda tonight," he said.
While this whispered colloquy was going on, the chapel had emptied,the Indians and Mexicans all hurrying out to set about the day's work.Alessandro lingered at the doorway as long as he dared, till he wassharply called by Juan Canito, looking back: "What are you gaping atthere, you Alessandro! Hurry, now, and get your men to work. Afterwaiting till near midsummer for this shearing, we'll make as quick workof it as we can. Have you got your best shearers here?"
"Ay, that I have," answered Alessandro; "not a man of them but can shearhis hundred in a day, There is not such a band as ours in all San DiegoCounty; and we don't turn out the sheep all bleeding, either; you'll seescarce a scratch on their sides."
"Humph." retorted Juan Can. "'Tis a poor shearer, indeed, that drawsblood to speak of. I've sheared many a thousand sheep in my day, andnever a red stain on the shears. But the Mexicans have always been famedfor good shearers."
Juan's invidious emphasis on the word "Mexicans" did not escapeAlessandro. "And we Indians also," he an
swered, good-naturedly,betraying no annoyance; "but as for these Americans, I saw one at workthe other day, that man Lomax, who settled near Temecula, and upon myfaith, Juan Can, I thought it was a slaughter-pen, and not a shearing.The poor beasts limped off with the blood running."
Juan did not see his way clear at the moment to any fitting rejoinder tothis easy assumption, on Alessandro's part, of the equal superiorityof Indians and Mexicans in the sheep-shearing art; so, much vexed, withanother "Humph!" he walked away; walked away so fast, that he lost thesight of a smile on Alessandro's face, which would have vexed him stillfurther.
At the sheep-shearing sheds and pens all was stir and bustle. Theshearing shed was a huge caricature of a summerhouse,--a long, narrowstructure, sixty feet long by twenty or thirty wide, all roof andpillars; no walls; the supports, slender rough posts, as far apartas was safe, for the upholding of the roof, which was of rough planksloosely laid from beam to beam. On three sides of this were thesheep-pens filled with sheep and lambs.
A few rods away stood the booths in which the shearers' food was to becooked and the shearers fed. These were mere temporary affairs, roofedonly by willow boughs with the leaves left on. Near these, the Indianshad already arranged their camp; a hut or two of green boughs hadbeen built, but for the most part they would sleep rolled up in theirblankets, on the ground. There was a brisk wind, and the gay coloredwings of the windmill blew furiously round and round, pumping out intothe tank below a stream of water so swift and strong, that as the mencrowded around, wetting and sharpening their knives, they got wellspattered, and had much merriment, pushing and elbowing each other intothe spray.
A high four-posted frame stood close to the shed; in this, swung fromthe four corners, hung one of the great sacking bags in which thefleeces were to be packed. A big pile of bags lay on the ground at thefoot of the posts. Juan Can eyed them with a chuckle. "We'll fill morethan those before night, Senor Felipe," he said. He was in his element,Juan Can, at shearing times. Then came his reward for the somewhatmonotonous and stupid year's work. The world held no better feast forhis eyes than the sight of a long row of big bales of fleece, tied,stamped with the Moreno brand, ready to be drawn away to the mills."Now, there is something substantial," he thought; "no chance of woolgoing amiss in market!"
If a year's crop were good, Juan's happiness was assured for the nextsix months. If it proved poor, he turned devout immediately, andspent the next six months calling on the saints for better luck, andredoubling his exertions with the sheep.
On one of the posts of the shed short projecting slats were nailed, likehalf-rounds of a ladder. Lightly as a rope-walker Felipe ran up these,to the roof, and took his stand there, ready to take the fleeces andpack them in the bag as fast as they should be tossed up from below.Luigo, with a big leathern wallet fastened in front of him, filled withfive-cent pieces, took his stand in the centre of the shed. The thirtyshearers, running into the nearest pen, dragged each his sheep intothe shed, in a twinkling of an eye had the creature between his knees,helpless, immovable, and the sharp sound of the shears set in. Thesheep-shearing had begun. No rest now. Not a second's silence from thebleating, baa-ing, opening and shutting, clicking, sharpening of shears,flying of fleeces through the air to the roof, pressing and stampingthem down in the bales; not a second's intermission, except the hour ofrest at noon, from sunrise till sunset, till the whole eight thousandof the Senora Moreno's sheep were shorn. It was a dramatic spectacle. Assoon as a sheep was shorn, the shearer ran with the fleece in hishand to Luigo, threw it down on a table, received his five-cent piece,dropped it in his pocket, ran to the pen, dragged out another sheep, andin less than five minutes was back again with a second fleece. The shornsheep, released, bounded off into another pen, where, light in the headno doubt from being three to five pounds lighter on their legs, theytrotted round bewilderedly for a moment, then flung up their heels andcapered for joy.
It was warm work. The dust from the fleeces and the trampling feetfilled the air. As the sun rose higher in the sky the sweat poured offthe men's faces; and Felipe, standing without shelter on the roof, foundout very soon that he had by no means yet got back his full strengthsince the fever. Long before noon, except for sheer pride, and forthe recollection of Juan Canito's speech, he would have come down andyielded his place to the old man. But he was resolved not to give up,and he worked on, though his face was purple and his head throbbing.After the bag of fleeces is half full, the packer stands in it, jumpingwith his full weight on the wool, as he throws in the fleeces, tocompress them as much as possible. When Felipe began to do this, hefound that he had indeed overrated his strength. As the first cloud ofthe sickening dust came up, enveloping his head, choking his breath,he turned suddenly dizzy, and calling faintly, "Juan, I am ill," sankhelpless down in the wool. He had fainted. At Juan Canito's scream ofdismay, a great hubbub and outcry arose; all saw instantly what hadhappened. Felipe's head was hanging limp over the edge of the bag, Juanin vain endeavoring to get sufficient foothold by his side to lift him.One after another the men rushed up the ladder, until they were allstanding, a helpless, excited crowd, on the roof, one proposing onething, one another. Only Luigo had had the presence of mind to run tothe house for help. The Senora was away from home. She had gone withFather Salvierderra to a friend's house, a half-day's journey off.But Ramona was there. Snatching all she could think of in way ofrestoratives, she came flying back with Luigo, followed by every servantof the establishment, all talking, groaning, gesticulating, suggesting,wringing their hands,--as disheartening a Babel as ever made bad mattersworse.
Reaching the shed, Ramona looked up to the roof bewildered. "Where ishe?" she cried. The next instant she saw his head, held in Juan Canito'sarms, just above the edge of the wool-bag. She groaned, "Oh, how will heever be lifted out!"
"I will lift him, Senora," cried Alessandro, coming to the front, "I amvery strong. Do not be afraid; I will bring him safe down." And swinginghimself down the ladder, he ran swiftly to the camp, and returned,bringing in his hands blankets. Springing quickly to the roof again,he knotted the blankets firmly together, and tying them at the middlearound his waist, threw the ends to his men, telling them to hold himfirm. He spoke in the Indian tongue as he was hurriedly doing this,and Ramona did not at first understand his plan. But when she sawthe Indians move a little back from the edge of the roof, holding theblankets firm grasped, while Alessandro stepped out on one of the narrowcross-beams from which the bag swung, she saw what he meant to do. Sheheld her breath. Felipe was a slender man; Alessandro was much heavier,and many inches taller. Still, could any man carry such a burden safelyon that narrow beam! Ramona looked away, and shut her eyes, throughthe silence which followed. It was only a few moments; but it seemed aneternity before a glad murmur of voices told her that it was done, andlooking up, she saw Felipe lying on the roof, unconscious, his facewhite, his eyes shut. At this sight, all the servants broke out afresh,weeping and wailing, "He is dead! He is dead!"
Ramona stood motionless, her eyes fixed on Felipe's face. She, too,believed him dead; but her thought was of the Senora.
"He is not dead," cried Juan Canito, who had thrust his hand underFelipe's shirt. "He is not dead. It is only a faint."
At this the first tears rolled down Ramona's face. She looked piteouslyat the ladder up and down which she had seen Alessandro run as if itwere an easy indoor staircase. "If I could only get up there!" she said,looking from one to another. "I think I can;" and she put one foot onthe lower round.
"Holy Virgin!" cried Juan Can, seeing her movement. "Senorita! Senorita!do not attempt it. It is not too easy for a man. You will break yourneck. He is fast coming to his senses."
Alessandro caught the words. Spite of all the confusion and terror ofthe scene, his heart heard the word, "Senorita." Ramona was not thewife of Felipe, or of any man. Yet Alessandro recollected that he hadaddressed her as Senora, and she did not seem surprised. Coming to thefront of the group he said, bending forward, "Senorita!" There musthave been
something in the tone which made Ramona start. The simple wordcould not have done it. "Senorita," said Alessandro, "it will be nothingto bring Senor Felipe down the ladder. He is, in my arms, no morethan one of the lambs yonder. I will bring him down as soon as he isrecovered. He is better here till then. He will very soon be himselfagain. It was only the heat." Seeing that the expression of anxiousdistress did not grow less on Ramona's face, he continued, in a tonestill more earnest, "Will not the Senorita trust me to bring him safedown?"
Ramona smiled faintly through her tears. "Yes," she said, "I will trustyou. You are Alessandro, are you not?"
"Yes, Senorita," he answered, greatly surprised, "I am Alessandro."
Ramona Page 5