The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1895-06-21
DOMINGO.

sage to the Mission San Juan, 40 miles
away He was offered horse to ride, but
refused it, and started on foot.
1t was May, the most delightful month
in the year, and Father Gaspard, free from
the restraint of the mission, beguiled the
way by singing and soliloquizing some
thing after this wise:
Indeed no; feel far safer on my own
legs than on the back of an impish bronco
that plants his four feet all together in
one small spot and humps his back like
fiend incarnate. Did not I myself see the
father superior's face blanch when he
mounted him to ride down the coast?"
Father GaspaEd was strong and in good
health, barring threatened obesity and a
shortness of leg, bet with the aid of
stout oaken staff he made good progress.
A light rejection at midday and short
siesta so refreshed him that he almost
seemed to trot, SO fast die. the ups ard
downs of the mountain trail speed under
his feet.
BE passed the night with herdsman,
who shared with him his simple fare, and
in the morning, after giving the man his
blessing, proceeded on his way through
the mountain pass to the edge of the Sail
AcS IINOIs 0ShtAS5 AlAo S3ONh t1AC iAA'
waist and carrying his sandals in his hand,
he forded the stream in shallow place,
mounted the bank, and drew long breaths
of delight at the view before him.
The valley stretched leagues away to the
south, where the mountains seemed to
meet the sand dunes separating it from
the sea on the west. There were no land
marks of any kind, not tree, shrub or
rock, only an unbroken prairie of verdure
and flowers, azure sky overhead and a gen
tie breeze moving the grass.
The good father FASTENED on. Well he
knew that later in the day these great Sa-
inas plains were the very nozzle of the
bellows through which the trade winds
swept, and toward evening a terror to
travellers from the fog that rolled in from
the sea, envelopipg, drenching and bewil-
dering them, SO it was folly to continue
their journey. They must stop where they
were until the next morning, when the
welcome trade winds once more arose and
drove the fog away u fantastic clouds over
the mountains
It was the good priests intention to
cross the plains and reach the ranch of Don
Manuel on the Gabilan, where he would
pass the night, sure of kindly welcome
and good cheer. But about noon, suffer
ing from heat fatigue and the pangs of
hunger, he bethought himself of shep-
herd who tended the sheep of Don Manuel
with whom he had stopped once or twice
when overtaken by the fog and who had
the knack of frying frijoles deliciously.
( Yes, there to the right was the hut, and
short distance away the flock. So the
priest turned from his course and soon
reached the shepherds hut. He sat down
on bench by the door until he recovered
his breath. Then putting his hands to
his mouth he called loudly: "PedroI Oh,
Pedrol''
! The sheep were huddled together in
groups, heads to the ground, their woolly
backs resisting the heat of the sun. At
his call some lifted their heads, but the
shepherd did not rise from his sleep on the
ground, as Father Gaspard expected. In
stead the black head Of shepherd dog
lifted itself on the further side Of the flock.
Then circling around it he came bounding
and leaping toward the priest. In reach
ing him he ran around and around, bark
ing, jumping and trying to lick his face.
Father Gaspard laughed and said: SIS
1t thou, Domingo? This is a cordial greet
ing, but where is thy master, Pedro? Is
the sluggard asleep in the grassf''
The dog showed all his teeth, and bent
himself almost double first one side, then
the other, in the violent wags of his tail
He ran little way, then lay down and
rested his head On his paws an instant,
then ran up to the priest again, emitting
sharp, quick yelps. He repeated this again
and again, but as the priest only laughed
the dog took hold of his gown with his
teeth, and, backing off, tried to pull him
along.
"Oh, we'll, then, I come,'' said the
priest indulgently, and followed the dog,
who trotted toward a olump of tall grass,
looking back every few steps to see if
Father Gaspard was close behind.
sIs it a fox hole thou wouldst show me?
Or only squirrels? Oh, it is the lazy
shepherd. Awake, PedroP' said the priest,
reaching down to shake the PROSTATE
form, but he started back, for it was not
that of sleeping man, but of a dead one
How is thisS" cried Father Gaspard in
distress. "Pedro dead and of what all
mentP
He turned The body over "Thou hast
lain here many days, my poor Pedro. AL
ready the fog and sun have rotted thy gar
ments and disfgured thy face Thou art
offensive and must be buried. And who
has guarded the 1ock?"
He looked at the dog, who wagged his
tail.
"Thou, Domingol by thyself? Truly
thou art noble fellow, and shalt have thy
reward. The man must be buried, at least
temporarily"
Father Gaspard scanned the valley in
all directions. No one was to be seen, no
traveller or vaquero that could be called to
help.
He went back to the hut and opened the
door. 1t was in good order, showing that
the shepherd had not lain there sick. Look
Ing Ground, he found small spade, and
took a blanket, which was folded on pile
of dry grass, to wrap the body in. Then
he went back to the dead man.
It was no easy task to dig the grave
alone and get the body in it, but he went
bravely to work, and cheered by an occa-
sional visit from the dog, by the time the
frat harbinger of the fog-in the form Of
q leeoy mist-floated over the sand dunes,
1t was accomplished.
Father Gaspard went back to the hut,
worn and weary, indeed. and cooked some