The daily morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven, Conn.) 1894-1907, 1901-06-17

for only moment, Il wonder why,
then dismissed the subject from he
mind, and sent her father upon hi
journey with close abrazo and tende
| words of farewell.
Don Tiburcio 1ourneyed to the pue
bio without adventure or mlshap. TIVE
amigos viejos, appraised of his arriya
by one of his household servants, dinet
with him al fresco, and as they smoked
their cigaritos under the shadow of the
orange trees, California's position II
the present struggle between Mexico
and Los Estados was discussed with
great warmth. At length, when the
lateness Of the hour penetrated the
consciousness of their heated spirits
the two friends arose, and with the for
mai courtesy which the closest intima-
cy never alters, bade their host a
"Buenas noches, Don Tiburcio, voya
va con Dos mama" C'Good night,
Don Tiburcio, God be with you to-mor-
roW'O. He had not disclosed, even to
these two tried and true old friends, the
object of his visit to the pueblo.
In that darkest hour before the
down, when all his household slum-
moment, and finding all STILL crept
cautiously out into the wide hall of the
house. Noiselessly drawing the bolt Of
the outer door, he glided around the
east corner of the house to the ser
wants quarters Here again all was
still, save for the occasional mutter-
ings Of the sleepers within.
"Domingo!" whispered Don Thur
clio, and out of the darkness a tall fig
ure arose and stole silently toward him,
| With no further word or sign the two
passed away toward the stables. Here
Domingo drew out a cumbrous four
| wheeled "carreta del pals, which
rolled out with dismal creakings.
/ Hurriedly oiling the numbering vehicle,
so that it's complaining We're instantly
hushed, he yoked to it pair of we'll
! fed, slow moving oxen. Then, always
with quick, gliding motions, he sad
died Don Tiburcio's horse, and just as
the day was lighting up the crown of
El Viejo Calvo master and servant
passed out of the great gate, the mas
ter astride his favorite horse Palona,
his Indian attendant walking beside
the cumbrous carreta, which contained,
beside a large metal box, with strong
brass clasps, pickaxes and shovels of
various sizes and degrees Of strength.
Slowly they wendell their way to-
ward the Rancho de San Jose, and as
they rode the golden glory Of the day
gilded the crests of the Sierra Madre.
Reverently Don Tiburcio raised his
broad sombrero, and the silent but OBJ
servant Indian clasped his arms and
dropped his head upon his breast. The
oxen stood still With his eyes upon
the glory crowned Sierra Don Thur
clio chanted his morning prayer OF
praise and thanksgiving, to which the
Indian added a low-toned amen, and,
quietly laying his hand upon the near
est of the oxen, they resumed their
slow journey.
The sun rose high in the heavens
the purple canons of the still distant
mountains grew hazy with the days
heat, and the long line of hills to the
south grew faint and indistinct Slow
~, slowly the sun passed over their |
heads and sank down below the level |
horizon. A cool breeze came lightly to- |
ward them. The glow Of the sunset |
died, and the dusk, like mist, softly
fell and wrapped them within impalpa-
BILE invisible folds, through which the
light breeze doated like the touch of
spirit tina. twanders. ~
In silence they journed, the Indian
like a shadow beside the slow
rolling carreta, while the stars flung
down a soft white light like the CLEAN
of the blooms in the orange groves
The Indian and the master, each in
his own way, felt the silent power of
the forces of the night; perhaps with
in the Indians untutored soul it stirred
the wider depths of poetry. But
he gave no sign, only patiently guided
the plodding oxen.
The stars paled, and as the gray
light of another dawn lifted the shad-
owy mists from the cornfelds and
Domingo and his master
halted under the old Encino del Tinaje,
Here Domino's face took on it's first
expression Of wonder, as Don Tiburcio
said to him:
Here, Domingo, take my horse, ride
IN to Cucamonga and bring back with
you a fresh pair of oxen"
with no turthar expression OF ms
than that vague look of
the Indian quietly mounted
fitted his hat and, with a courteous
'Adios, senor,' passed off to the north
ward, where the mountains doomed up j,
n dark and splendid grandeur. Arriv-
ng at the rancho, he handed over the
masters horse to a lounging Indian
10Y, quietly ordered another to bring :
nut the fresh yoke of oxen, saying:
'(The carreta is heavy and our oxen
crew weary" and, taking neither rest
Tor refreshment set out to meet his
master. They met four miles from the :
anch, on the outskirts Of the wood. :.
NE Indians quick eye noticed that the J
novels and pickaxes stlll lay in the =
ottom of the carreta, but the bog had \
But not one word did he
tier; he understood that secret rest
d between him and his master. il
The leaves hung limp with eat, all
ounds were hushed save the duh thud .
the overripe figs falling to the /
round as they rode into the wide patio. \
he joyous clalmor of welcome accord :
d the master awakened Marianita
rom her dreamful elesta, and with
miles, sweet words and caresses, she
-aited upon the weary traveller, but,
Ike the faithful Indian servant, never
tba 0hiopt al hiG ioI1Yr1au