Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1936-03-04
CHAPTER I.

tdSS TO De lOSt III Lie VdSt level
reaches of the San Joaquin Valley. in
the heart of California. The pass
deboucheS with abruptnesS into the
valley; as the young man rode, sud-
denly the banks of'the creek fattened,
the hills above him on either side
reached their farthest north-and the
valley lay smiling before him. He
pulled up his horse and sat him, the
while he gazed out into such land
as he had not seen before. Below him,
as far as he could see, rolled carpet
of new green grass, smeared with vast
acreages of blue and yellow lupin,
golden and orange escoltzia. breath
taking in its Spring loneliness. Up
the hills to the west the riot Of color
spread; far to the east rose the dim
blue outlines of the Sierra foothills
and beyond the foothills the rampant
of eternal white that was the Sierra
itself. A silent, lonely, lovely land,
inhabited only by grizzly bear, tule
elk and antelope-pastoral California.
For long time the horseman gazed
and in his heart was that full feeling
that comes TO an over-plus of beauty.
So this was California that mythical
land of beauty of which Montalvo
wrote long before the galleons of Cab
rillo had skirted the coast. How diff
ferent Che thought) from desert or
semi-desert of Sonora, Mexico, from
which he had ridden the previous
Fall. How different from all that
portion of California through which
he had already ridden.
He patted his horses withers.
"Here, little horse" he murmured, sis
land that will appeal to thee" He
spoke in Spanish, employing the
solemn style because the animal was
dear to him. He dismounted, picked
I'D each of the animals feet In turn
and examined the rude heavy plates
with which his mount was shod. They
were badly worn and should have been
replaced a month previous; the hoofs
were growing out over the rims OF
the shoes.
From his saddle bags the man re-
moved a claw-hammer and small
chisel and pried the shoes off: with
rasp he trimmed the hoofs, re-
mounted and pressed on into the
valley where the earth, following
recent rain, was soft and cushioned
with grass Freed from the cumber-
some and ill-ftting shoes and pleas
uring in this new and delightful foot
ing for his bare feet, the horse broke
into a running walk that carried him
northward at a good 6 miles per
hour At midday the man halted re-
moved saddle and bride, groomed his
horse with wisps of old dry wildcat
feed that had held over from the
previous Summer, watered the animal
at little creek that ran down from
the western hills, and after hobbling,
turned the horse loose to Craze. His
horse, he reflected was more fortunate
than he. No problem of sustenance
presented itself to his mount, whereas,
for breakfast, the rider had consumed
the last scrap of jerked beef he had
carried for his journey.
He gazed about him. Half a mile
distant small herd of antelope
grazed, so the man cut long withe
from willow, sharpened it and thrust
It in the ground about 40 feet out
from the edge of the creek. To the
top of the Withe he fastened his
serape and, after noting that it fut-
tered in the breeze, he hid himself
behind the bank of the stream, drew
a long-barreled cap-and-ball pistol
and waited.
Antelope are VIGOROUSLY curious.
Presently the herd observed the flap
ping serape, gazed at it a few minutes
and then moved toward it to investi-
gate. Every little while they paused
to consider the phenomenon, then
pushed forward furtively again. They
were up wind from the serape, hence
they CLEANED no faint of the man
smell; when they were within 20 feet
OF 1t, the man rose softly and shot
one OF the little animals. Swiftly he
bled 1t and dressed it, hung it in the
forks of sycamore tree with his
RATA and extracted the liver. With
flint and steel he made fire of dried
limbs and when he had nice bed of
Goals, spread the liver on them and
presently ate it without salt. Then
he caught up his horse, saddled it,
tied the carcass Of the antelope behind
his cantle and resumed his Journey.
keeping close to the western fringe
of hills.
Deeply content. he spoke to his
horse. "A fat land" he said, where
God provides for the wanderer. At
the pueblo of Los Angeles they told
me that from the mouth of the pass
1t is about 70 leagues to the rancho
OF Don Ricardo de Ia Cuesta, in this
valley just west of Pacheco Pass.
named in honor of California gober-
nador. Courage, my Pedro, in five
days we will be there. In this cool
Spring weather my antelope will not
spoil, nor will your feet grow tender
and bleed. BY the blood of the devil.
should be well content were I not
out OF tobacco. But at the Rancho
Del Luis Rey there is tobacco and good
food and wine for me and corn for
you, Pedro. In month your lean
ribs will again be fat"
From where it hung at his pommel
ne lifted small guitar, tuned it. as
he rode along and stunning low
ously, singing for his own enjoyment
song that was written when the
Moore evacuated Granada.
Late in the afternoon of his fifth
day in the San Joaquin he sighted
among the oaks and sycamores, in a
smaller side valley at the mouth of a
pass, long low white hacienda, with
dozens Of little brown adobe houses
and a large corral clustered around
1t. Smoke rose from all the chimneys
and presently across the fragrant
fields the wanderer heard the faint
music of chimes, ringing the Angelus.
"The Rancho Del Luis Rey," he
shouted joyously to his horse. 81
nave heard that Don Ricardo has his |
own chapel and his own priest"
He pulled the horse to halt, I'M