San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1888-07-07
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''Senor, like not this place. he said
finally, as he fumbled ut the cords which
bound the luggage on the pack mule "What
70 the matter with the placer queried, a. [
took note Of the pools and eddies In the river,
and made a mental calculation az to the BEST
place to commence my fishing the next day.
''it u strange, senior, the rocks are works
Of witchery. and the story Is not pleasant to
think Of"
swell" answered carelessly, as I saw
big trout, which looked to be over o foot
long az it flashed In the sunlight, jump from
q pool directly in front Of me, ~ guess
nobody will hurt you: we win build big
Dire and 1t will Keep the animals away, and
the Indians are all peaceable."
alt Is not the Indians nor the bears fear,
senior; it Is the devil"
"Pshaw, the devil does not want you yet
a while," answered, laughingly, and Pedro
submissively began to arrange the camp and
prepare supper l unpacked my trout rods
with care, and busted myself selecting flies
and rigging my tackle for the sport antici-
pated on the morrow. even went SO far as
to whip the pool out Of which had seen the
trout Jump, but it was too late in the day, or
nIs troutship was sullen, and had my labor
for my pains.
After We had finished our supper we lay on
opposite sides Of the camp fire, smoking my
pipe and Pedro consuming villainous cigar
.ttes made of black plug tobacco wrapped in
the cuarsest straw paper, and thinking-at
east | was-of how we'll the natural appear
tnre of the canyon gave color to Pedros super
,titlous notions The moon was struggling
through a mass of fleecy cloud which did not
uie it entirely, but which made the light
remble as it shot out bright and clear
nrough the open spaces, then was obscured
a cloud bank. The Weber river, at our
eeL. looked in one moment as bright as quick
liver. III the next it was inky black. The
reInulous moonlight gave fantastic outlines
the strangely shaped crags, and they
seemed to move with sort of rhythmic
,waylng, to advance in the moonlight and
bow, then recede into the shadow. The night
wind rustled through the stunted pines and
sage brush and moane1 most uncannily
among the mysterious assures and crevices
of the rocks The river rippled along peace
fully enough past our camp, but the dull roar
of the cataract, where, a half mile below, it
dashed through the rock riven Devils Gate,
made dull monotone broken by the sharp
yelp Of the coyote or the cry Of q small bird
frightened by the prairie owl
Pedro drew closer to me, and pointing to
two parallel walls Of rock about twenty feet
apart, rising to a height of about thirty feet
and extending from the top to the bottom Of
the mountain, he whispered in an awe struck
voice: 1.-THE DEVILS Slide, senor."
Then pointing to huge monolith, shaped
like an Indian club, on the opposite hill, he
added:
THAT is the DEVILS War Club" and he
crossed himself so vigorously and muttered
so many strange prayers in mixture Of bad
Spanish and worse Latin, that l am certain
that any reasonable fiend would have fed In
terror at his incomprehensible patois.
His evident terror was beginning to make
me nervous from sympathy, and knew that
the best way to restore his mental equilibrium
was to interest him in some subject not con-
nected with our uncanny surroundings. !
tried In vain to turn the conversation upon
hunting and fishing. At last in desperation,
thinking that the sound of his own voice
might reassure him and that in the interest
of his story he would forget his position, |
allowed him to tell me the legend which,
shorn of some of Pedros inaccuracies Of
speech, ran as follows:
In the year 1777, when the people Of the
eastern part of America were fighting fol
independence, the Spaniards had already
settled on the Pacific coast and founded sew
eral missions The fathers, with that devo-
5ion and fearlessness which has characterized
the priesthood in all ages, had penetrated
tar inland and made many converts among
the savages in the interior as early as 1725.
Among the most Jealous and successful
was Father Pietro del Torra, man of great
piety, and also as social and genial com
panion as one could wish for. In the fall of
TIT Father Pietro had crossed the Sierras
and was preaching and baptizing among the
Indians OF Nevada and Utah He had
passed the Alkah plains of the Humboldt
region and the Great Salt lake, and late one
evening was walking in Weber canyon, when
be came to a wall of rock which barred his
passage. He determined, however, to push
on, and after laboriously climbing the hill he
pursued his way along the top. Soon he OBJ
served a gentleman dressed as a Spanish
cavalier Of the day coming toward him.
Father Pietro was not a little surprised to
see white man so far from civilization; and
in truth, he was not sorry, for being, as we
have said, of a social disposition, he felt the
lack of company sorely.
Therefore, when they met Father Pietro
smiled pleasantly and remarked:
"A lonely walk you are having, my SON"
st is, reverend father, but is it not like
wise lonely for you, who travel day after day
unattended2"
very lonely" answered Father Pietro,
LET us sup together; q crust with pleas
ant companion Is better than feast In soil,
tude."