each other through the gray dawn of the morning. Seeing that his opponent was still armed, the minister quickly seized him and wrenched his pistol from his hand, and they grappled. Back and forth they struggled, the Indian trying to release himself, Sylvester trying to hold him until some one should come to his assistance. Seeing that he could not get away, the Indian attempted to reach one of the pistols, both of which now lay upon the ground, but he was foiled in this, too. Then turning his entire attention to his assailant, the outlaw grasped his throat with the grip of a dying man. Struggle as he would the missionary could not release himself from that grip. He tried to call for help, but in vain. He tried to recover one of the pistols, but could not. Then he tried by sheer force of will to hold on to his rapidly waning strength, hoping thus to be able to detain his antagonist until help should arrive. It was not to be, however. The Indian's grip would not slacken, and Sylvester felt as if his throat and lungs were being consumed by a growing flame in his chest. He could feel the skin on his face tighten and burn and his eyes begin to move from their sockets.

Then the shouts of the men and the

screams of the women became ever more distant, and he was unconscious.

When he came to, Ned held his head and Miss Maddin was rubbing his throat and bathing his brow with cold water. She gave him something to drink, and he soon felt strong enough to get upon his feet. The sun had risen, and in the trees overhead numerous birds were singing. A rabbit hopped across the road at the back of the house, and a wild turkey flew over a little stream and disappeared amid the undergrowth on the opposite side. Supported by Ned and Miss Maddin, Sylvester walked slowly around the house to where the horses were tethered. The bodies of Mose and Henry Miller were hanging across the minister's saddle, the blood still dripping from a bullet wound in the latter's temple. The missionary looked inquiringly at Joe, who nodded toward Ned. Not a word was spoken. Sylvester was placed behind Joe, and Ned took Miss Maddin in the saddle in front of him, and they rode out of the woods to the prairie, the arms and the legs of two dead men dangling against Trickster's side as they jogged on.

The End.

THOMAS GORDON LUKE.

Ꮤ

E DO not realize how rapidly history is making until some incident brings the different occurrences of the past into focus within the radius of the present, and the mind perceives, for the first time, the united whole.

When Spain ruled California-how long ago it seems! Yet there died in Santa Barbara recently a woman who had lived under three successive flags, not to mention the famous Bear, without having changed her residence. She once told the writer that she distinctly remembered when the Spanish flag floated over the Santa Barbara presidio, succeeded by the flag of Mexico, which last gave place to the Stars and Stripes.

Senora Arellanes, born a Ruiz, was the grand-daughter of Jose Ruiz, one of the soldiers whose name is associated with the founding of the Santa Barbara Mission. She was born in 1817 in the house of her future fatherin-law. Here she lived and doubtless would have died had not the ancient but well preserved structure been chosen a few years ago as the "Neighborhood House" by the social welfare enthusiasts of Santa Barbara.

The old house is said to have been built at the same time as the Mission, for a "poblador" (settler) named Guiterrez, who soon returned to Spain, and his dwelling became a warehouse for a time. It was probably the first residence erected outside the presidio wall. It was what was known as "box walls," more durable than adobe, and built up within boxing, much as we now build up cement or concrete.

In the early days lumber was hardly rated as a building material. Long after the '49ers came, most of the

houses in Santa Barbara were adobe, with tile roofs, dirt floors, and no windows, fire-places nor chimneys. Rooms were warmed, if at all, by brasiers after the manner of the old Romans. Openings answering the purpose of windows, when provided at all, were guarded by picturesque bars. Large flat tiles replaced earthen floors in some of the best buildings.

In Senora Arellanes' time the ground was plowed with a crooked stick drawn by oxen. Grain was cut by the handful, with a sickle or knife, and thrown over the shoulder into a large basket resting on the back and suspended by a band across the forehead. Threashing was done by "treading out." The Indians winnowed the grain by tossing it up in a blanket and letting the wind blow the chaff away.

The village washing place was at Las Arroyitas, the little arroyos, a springy spot, now quite dry, adjoining their homes. Here the people built bowers that remained permanently, and planted willows that grew up about them, and used flat stones for washboards. And wash days were gala days for young and old, for they met together at Las Arroyitas and had merry times as they dipped the garments down into the pools or poured the water over them and slapped them on the smooth stones and spread them out to dry.

And sometimes they would all go up to the hot springs on the mountain side seven miles away, to do their washing, taking with them their pots and kettles, their corn and frijoles and other paraphernalia, on horseback, and traveling single file over the narrow trail, they went into camp for the occasion and remained as long as the

food lasted. The hot water bleached the clothes and was a desirable change occasionally from the cold process of Las Arroyitas. There were grizzlies in the vicinity, and once they even invaded the camp.

The taking of their country by the American soldiers stood out in bold prominence in la senora's memory. She at different times told the writer how Stockton marched up the streets with the band playing, and entering the presidio the Stars and Stripes were raised on a mast brought from the ship by horse and wagon and erected in the presidio plaza for the occasion. The wife of the Mexican commandante had previously lowered the Mexican flag, and the commandante

himself

had chopped down the staff when he found the Americans were coming. Everybody was frightened and fled for their lives to the Mission and mountains.

Stockton told them he was not here for fun, but for business; but he'd not do them any harm. They could have. their land and their homes and everything just as they had been having them. He left all the local offices just as he found them; no change in officers, or anything; only he gathered up all the cannon he saw and took them away. She told over and over again of Stockton's magnanimous treatment of the people, seemingly not yet recovered from her astonishment and gratitude.

RUTH E. HENDERSON.

W

HO has not heard of the famous Santa Clara Valley, the beauties and productions of which have been embalmed in poetry and song since the days when Bayard Taylor proclaimed its attractiveness to the world?

But at the time of the conquest of California by the Americans, and long prior thereto, a few wealthy Spaniards and Mexicans owned the arable and grazing lands of the Santa Clara Valley, over which roamed their thousands of cattle. Their houses were mostly of adobe and not very pretentious, yet under their patriarchal sway these Californian grandees were masters of the land, and they were looked up to and obeyed by the poorer classes. of the Mexicans and the Indians, the latter being their principal servants and vaqueros. Some of these Dons were of Castilian descent; others with a darker complexion, owed their lineage to the Moors of Andalusia; and some few had Aztec blood in their veins. There is no prouder race in Spain than the royal Moorish line of the Abencerrages of Granada, whose ancestors came over to Spain from Northern Africa. This blood crossed with the Castilian produced amongst others the family of Don Pedro Bonito. To class this race with the Mestizoes-mixed Indian and Mexicanon account of their darker color, as many do, is as ridiculous a mistake as that made by a noted Yankee sculptor, who gave his Cleopatra a flat nose and thick lips!

Like the higher order of people the world over, the Dons in California possessed all the better qualities, and some of them, the vices of their race; but they represented the best that the

land produced in the way of men and women before the conquest of California by the Americans.

Don Pedro in early life had married. a beautiful girl of the purest Castilian descent. Their four children seemed to be equally divided in color, one girl, Maria, and one boy, Ygnacio, dark as their father in eyes, hair and complexion; the other two, Carlos and Ynez, fair as their Castilian mother.

Don Ygnacio was getting to be quite an old man when I first met him.

Upon one occasion, just after the great earthquake in 1906, when I remarked to him that I had but recently returned from a fishing trip in the Santa Lucia Mountains, the old gentleman became reminiscent and spoke of a journey he and his brother, Don Carlos, had made when they were young, into the same mountains in quest of gold.

And on a Sunday afternoon I spent at his house, when he was lying on a sick bed-too soon, alas, to die-he told me the story which is substantially as follows:

Don Pedro, his father, was one of the wealthiest rancheros of the days before the "Gringos" came. He had large possessions, many servants, and lived in the style of a Spanish grandee -that he was. There was an Indian on his ranch whose name was Juan Soto, who had been many years on the place acting as vaquero, and was regarded as one of the most reliable men there. When Don Ygnacio was but a stripling, Juan, who was then growing quite old, in a burst of confidence, one day, imparted the secret of his life to Don Pedro.

"Senor," said he, "you have been. good to me when I came to this ran

cho I was sick and friendless, and you took me in and had me cared for as if I was one of your own family. It is the custom of my people never to speak to a white man of the place where gold is found; they say that the Good Spirit was angry when the Spaniards took these lands from the Indians, and that the Indians must keep the gold for themselves. The good padres told us, when converted to Christianity, that God would curse us if we did not tell them (and no one else) where the gold was. Senor, you know of the wealth of the padres in their Missions. It is because of their knowledge of the placers de oro. I shall do that for you that no other Indian ever did: I shall tell to a Spanish Don where there is so much gold that you, Senor, will be of all your people muchisimo ricos. I do this since you have been, not only my patron, per amigo mio. You had me taught as no other Indian was taught, and to you to whom I owe everything and my life as well, I disclose my secret after keeping the same for thirty years. Madre de Dios! I swear this is true.

"A short time before I came to this rancho I was with my tribe of Indians upon the shores of the great ocean, along which the holy Santa Lucia Mountains run. We had been catching and drying fish and abalones for our winter supply. Having finished our work we journeyed Eastward across the mountains, going to the Salinas the Salinas Valley. One day a fine buck pursued by wolves passed near us. I alone followed them, and succeeded in killing the deer with my arrows when he came to bay with the wolves, and I frightened them away. I was now lost, and I wandered for days trying to find my way out of the mountains. I came to a narrow gulch through which flowed a small stream of water. I camped that night there, and in the morning I went down to get some water, and I saw gold in the sands; and nuggets of pure gold, some of those pieces were as large as a man's fist. I gathered many pounds weight and wrapped them up in the deer skin,

and I traveled along that stream for a few miles until it ran into the sea. I was weary and sick, and do not know how much time passed. The gold was very heavy, and I threw it away piece after piece until I had no more. For who cares for gold when he is hungry and sick. I ate roots and berries and knocked over a rabbit once in a while.

"I took a northerly course along the ocean, crossed many little streams flowing west, and after passing over a river came to an old Mission building, where the roof had fallen in. I remember stopping alongside of the building, and looking south and seeing the beginning of the hills, and a white blaze upon the face of the first hill. I then turned down south, and for many days, I know not how long, I walked seeking to find a trail into the Salinas Valley.

"After awhile I knew nothing, and when I woke I found myself in an Indian Camp; they were kind to me, and when I was strong enough to travel, I went with them for many months, until from a very bad cold I had caught, I could go no further; and they left me in an old brush hut with food enough to last me several days. Good luck came to me, and I soon began to walk again-this time to the north, and just before I came to your rancho, senor, I fell and broke my leg. You know the rest. You have my story; and it is true and the good God knows it is nothing but the truth."

The Don smiled down at Juan, and said:

"Esta buena (it is well) Juan! I believe you; muchas gracias. I appreciate your confidence. Can you find that placero de oro ?"

"Si, Senor. I know I can find it."

"Very well, Juan. I will let you guide the young Senores to that spot, for I am too old to venture on such a long journey into those mountains," Isaid the Don.

Early in the month of May, 1848— the last rains of the season being now over-great preparations were made at the Santa Teresa Rancho for this quest of gold.