Chapter III: Part II: When Docas Lived at the Mission

DOCAS GOES TO LIVE AT THE MISSION

After Father Pena had saved Massea from being tortured, Massea liked him very much,--so much that he decided to go to the Mission to live.

Therefore after a few days they gathered together their baskets, their bows and arrows, and some seeds. Then they were ready to start, for they had nothing more to take with them. Docas walked with Heema, his little brother. Massea walked at the side of Ama, who was carrying Keoka, Docas’s baby sister. Alachu trotted behind.

When they came to the Mission they found that some of the Indians who were already there had helped Father Pena to build a very large brush house. This the Father called a church. Near it was the Father’s hut, and off at one side were the huts of the Indians. These huts were built in rows, but they were of brush just as they had always been.

As soon as they arrived, Docas and Massea went off a little way to the creek, where there were many willow trees growing. They broke off the leafy branches and carried them up to the Mission to make their own hut. When they had a large pile of branches they began to build it.

First they stuck one end of a branch into the ground. They did that with all the branches until they had a circle, putting the branches so close together that Docas could hardly look between them.

When the circle was finished, they bent all the tops of the branches together and tied them; then they covered the house with dry grass.

The Father tried to get Massea to build a better kind of house; he said he would show him how to do it, for the brush house was too cold. But Massea said, “No; we like this kind of house. When it gets too dirty, we will burn it down and build another.”

They left a little hole for a door. They left it open all the time because they had nothing with which to close it.

After the house was finished and the baskets were put away in it, they all went to help their friends build their houses. One of the Indians who was already living at the Mission brought them a bundle of straw, which Massea put across the hole in front of their house. That meant to any Indian who might come to see them, “We are away from home, and shall be gone some time.”

BREAKFAST AT THE MISSION

Next morning Ama got up very early. She went down to the creek bed and hunted about until she found two stones that she liked. One was large and flat on top; the other was small and long, with one end that had been worn smooth by the water. She wanted to make a new mortar and pestle, for the old ones were so heavy that she had not brought them with her.

Ama carried her corn down to the creek, put it on the big stone, and tried to pound it with the little one; but the corn flew all over the ground, for there was no hole worn yet in the top of the flat rock.

She poured some more corn on the top of the flat stone, but this time she did not pound it so hard. Even then she could not grind it very well, but by and by it was fine enough so that she could make mush of it.

She started to go to the hut to tell Docas to make a fire. Just as she climbed up the bank the sun came over the top of the mountain. It shone on the queer, shiny thing that looked something like a basket upside down. This thing hung between two posts by the church, and it was shining so brightly now that Ama could hardly look at it.

At the same moment that the sun rose, she heard something go, “Clang, clang, clang!” The sound seemed to come from this same shiny thing.

It waked Massea and Docas, and they came running out of the hut to see what was the matter. In a few minutes all the other people in the village came out of their huts, too.

Everybody seemed to be going toward the shiny thing that made the noise. So Ama snatched up little Keoka, and they all followed after the other people to see what was the matter.

They found that all the Indians were going into the big brush house, and they followed. As the people went in they knelt down. Massea said, “I am going to do as other people do,” so he knelt down, too. Then he took Ama and the children and went to a corner of the house to see what was going to happen.

Up in the front of the house some of the long white sticks were burning that the Indian from Monterey had told about. In a few minutes more Docas heard the sweetest sound! Heema began to talk to him just then, but Docas said, “Stop! I want to listen.”

In a few minutes some more boys came in, all singing. Docas could not understand anything they said, but he liked the sound.

Then Father Pena came out and said something, but Docas could not understand that either. After the little boys had sung, everybody got up and went out of the house. Massea and his family followed, and they all went back to their homes.

Ama asked Docas to build the fire. He found some dry sticks and soon had a fire roaring. Just then a strange little Mission boy with a red skirt on came up. “What are you building that fire for?” he said.

“For my mother to cook breakfast,” answered Docas.

“We don’t do that here at the Mission,” said the strange Indian boy.

“Don’t have any breakfast?” asked Docas. Docas was almost ready to wish he were back at the old rancheria, if he could not have any breakfast.

“Oh, no!” said the boy. “I meant that each family does not get its own breakfast.”

“Then who does get it?” asked Docas.

“Well, you see my mother and some of the other women stayed home and got breakfast ready for all of us while we were at mass,” said the boy. Then he asked, “Where is your mother?”

“She is down at the creek trying to grind some more corn while I build the fire,” answered Docas.

“Let’s surprise her,” said the boy. “Have you some baskets? Get one, and we will go and get the breakfast while she is gone.”

Docas went into the hut and brought out one of the flat baskets. The boy looked at it; then he said, “Haven’t you any deeper basket? They give you so much to eat here.” Docas went back, and this time he brought out one of the deep baskets in which Ama used to carry the grass-seed. Then they went off.

Soon Ama came back. She looked all round, but could not find any fire. “I wonder what has become of Docas,” she said.

Docas had not put any big wood on the fire, but only some small sticks, so by the time Ama came up from the creek it was all burned out.

In a little while Ama saw Docas coming toward them, carrying a basket very carefully in his hands. The other Indian boy was with him.

“I wonder where he has been and what he is carrying in that basket. I should think he would be hungry himself, and build the fire, instead of running off to play before breakfast,” thought Ama.

In a minute more Docas set the basket down at her feet. She looked into it, then she said, “Why, it is filled with mush. Where did you get it?”

Docas then told Ama about the big boilers full of mush, and how every family sent and got its breakfast from them.

The strange little boy, whose name was Yisoo, said, “Good-by; I will be back after breakfast, but I must hurry now and take our breakfast home.”

THE MISSION SCHOOL

After a little while Yisoo came back. “Come now; it is time to go to school,” said he.

“What is school? What do you do there?” asked Docas.

“Why, it’s a place where all the Indian boys go every day. They just say over things that the Father tells them.”

“Is that all? I don’t think that’s any fun,” said Docas.

“No, it isn’t,” said the boy; “but I tell you what is fun,” he added. “If you have a good voice, the Father will teach you to sing and maybe he will teach you to play on a violin.”

Docas was glad to hear that perhaps he could learn to sing, for he loved music. As they walked along Yisoo told Docas about what he must do at school.

As they came out of the school, Yisoo said to Docas, “I can beat you home.” They both started off on a run, but Docas came out a little ahead. Yisoo looked at his bare legs and said, “You know how to run.”

Docas said, “Yes; but you see I haven’t so many clothes on as you.”

“I must take you after dinner to get some clothes like mine,” said Yisoo.

They hurried to get their baskets and go for the dinner. For dinner they had some meat as well as mush. Father Pena told the women who were giving out the dinner that both Docas and Yisoo had studied very hard that morning, and if there were any scraps of dinner left they should have them. So Docas and Yisoo had a big dinner that day, for when they came back, the women gave them each an extra piece of meat and a little cake made of corn.

After dinner, Yisoo said, “Now we will go for your clothes.”

They went to the house where the Indian clothes were kept. Father Pena went with them and gave Docas a suit of clothes just like Yisoo’s. Docas liked them very much, for the jacket was white and the shirt was scarlet.

After Docas was dressed, Father Pena said, “Haven’t you a brother and a sister?”

“Yes, Father,” said Docas.

“Then take them each a suit of clothes, too. All the children here wear the same kind of clothes,” said Father Pena.

RAISING CORN

The place the Fathers first selected for the Mission was very low, and before they had lived there many winters, a great rain made the creek overflow its banks and flood the Mission.

“This place is too low; we must move farther away from the creek,” said the Fathers, as they watched the muddy water swirling about among their houses.

So before long the entire Mission was moved three miles away to a safe place.

Father Joseph was the name of the younger of the two Fathers. He had charge of the Mission gardens, and one day in May he walked out among the gardens that had been planted. Massea was at work pulling weeds. As Father Joseph came near, he said, “Massea, our garden needs more water.”

Massea said, “Yes, it is too dry; but there will be no rain for three or four months yet.”

“What can we do to bring some water to the garden?” said Father Joseph. “I wonder if we could not make a long ditch from the Guadalupe Creek around our garden and then back to the creek again.”

“It would bring the water, but it would be much work, Father,” said Massea.

“We have many Indians who could work,” said Father Joseph. “I will ask Father Pena what he thinks about it.”

Father Pena thought the idea was a good one. So in a few days, after they had marked out the course of the ditch, there were two hundred Indian men at work digging. Even Docas worked after school was done. They worked so hard that in a few weeks the ditch was made, and part of the water of the creek was flowing through it. After that the gardens were never dry any more.

The children liked the ditch too, for it was such a fine place to go wading in. Heema made tiny boats out of tules[1] as nearly like Massea’s big boat as he could. Even Docas liked to watch his little brother and sister sail their boats on the water in the ditch.

By the side of the irrigating ditch grew many rows of corn. When it was ripe, Massea went to his house and got a very large, deep basket.

Docas said, “Where are you going, father?”

“Father Joseph told me to get this basket and cut the corn,” said Massea.

“May I go with you, father?” asked Alachu.

“Yes, if you will not get in the way,” said Massea.

So Massea carried his basket to the cornfield, and Alachu trotted along by his side. He went down each row of corn, cutting off the heads and putting them into his basket. Sometimes he happened to drop a head, but when he did that, Alachu picked it up for him, and he put it into his basket.

When the basket was full, he carried it to the end of the field where Docas was waiting with a cart drawn by oxen. Massea emptied the baskets into the cart until it was full; then Docas drove the cart to a storehouse.

One rainy day in winter when they could not work outside, Father Joseph said to a number of the Indian men, “I want you to go to the storehouse to-day to husk corn.”

After school Docas went to the storehouse, too, and found Massea sitting on the floor with the other men. Massea tied a few empty husks together; then he took the ears that Docas had husked. He rubbed a full ear against the husks until all the grains of corn had dropped down into the basket on the floor.

Then it was ready to be roasted.

[1] _Tu’le_, a large bulrush growing abundantly on overflowed land in
California and elsewhere.

THRESHING THE GRAIN

One morning Massea took the rough wooden plough and went out to a smooth piece of ground near the Mission. He began to plough the ground in a circle, not ploughing very deep, but only loosening the top.

Heema and Alachu were wading in the irrigating ditch.

Alachu said, “See! father is making a garden.”

“That’s a queer place to make a garden,” said Heema.

They did not pay any more attention, but went on wading.

That afternoon Docas and some other boys and men went out with Massea to make a tight fence around the circle Massea had ploughed. Docas tied the fence together with rawhide strings so that it could not come apart.

After the fence was built, Massea poured water over the top of the ground. Then the men drove a band of wild horses into the circle and closed up the gate so that they could not get out.

When the children saw the horses going into the circle, they all ran to see what was going to happen. Docas peeped through a hole in the fence. He could see the horses standing around inside, so he called Yisoo to come and peep through, too.

One horse was standing near the hole in the fence. When he heard Docas call, he pricked up his ears, ducked his head, kicked up his heels, and started off on a run. As soon as one horse began to run all the other horses began to run, too. The children clapped their hands, and the men yelled, so the horses kept on running round and round.

By the time Father Joseph told Massea to let them out, the ground was tramped as smooth and hard as cement.

Then Massea and Docas began hauling wheat from the fields in the big ox-carts, and piling it up in the middle of the circle on the hard ground. Heema had to go to school most of the time, but Alachu rode out with Docas in the empty cart, and came back on the top of the load.

One day Docas piled the cart very full. When he was ready to go, he gave Alachu a toss up on the load, but he tossed her so hard that, instead of staying on top, she slipped clear off on the other side. Docas saw her slide off and heard a thud on the ground. He ran around the back of the cart, but he could not see Alachu. He could see only a pile of grain on the ground.

“Alachu!” he called. In a moment the grain on the ground began to shake, and Alachu’s head came up out of the middle of it. A big bunch had slid off with her and covered her up. Docas was afraid she was hurt, but when she began to laugh, he picked her up, and this time he set her very carefully on top of the hay in the cart.

By and by there was a big stack of grain in the centre of the circle. Massea spread some of the grain out on the open space between the stack and the fence, and the men turned the horses in again. Again the horses ran round and round until they had tramped all the wheat out of the grain.

Massea said to Docas, “Run, Docas. Go and get the pitchforks.”

Docas ran to a house near the Father’s and brought back four big, wooden pitchforks. Docas gave Massea a pitchfork. He also gave Yisoo’s father one; then he gave one to Yisoo, and kept one for himself.

They went inside the circle and tossed the straw over the fence. Of course the pitchforks would not lift the wheat, so it stayed on the ground. They kept on putting down new layers of grain and letting the wild horses run over it and trample the wheat out, until there was no longer any stack in the middle.

Yisoo had the wooden shovels ready, and they shovelled all the wheat into a pile in the centre of the circle. Some of it they swept into the pile with brush brooms.

“What dirty wheat! I don’t want to eat any mush made of that wheat. It’s all full of little pieces of chaff,” said Alachu. She shivered as she spoke, for a cold wind was blowing.

“Don’t you want to come inside the fence? It is warmer inside,” said Docas. Alachu went inside and ran over to Docas, but he said, “No, you must not stay here. Go across to the other side of the circle, close to the fence.”

In a moment more she saw why Docas made her go over to the other side of the circle. Docas threw a big shovelful of the grain and chaff up into the air.

The chaff was light, and the wind blew it away, but the grain fell back to the ground. The air was so full of the bits of flying chaff that Alachu could hardly see the fence where she had been standing at first.

GETTING READY TO MAKE BRICKS

One morning, Father Pena came to Massea.

“I received a letter yesterday saying that a ship has come to San Francisco,” he said. “It has brought some pictures for the church at our Mission. I want you to go to San Francisco with an ox-cart and bring the pictures back.”

Father Pena gave Massea charge of many things. Massea had been a chief at his Indian rancheria, and so Father Pena sent him for the pictures.

Docas went with Massea. As they rode along they passed their old rancheria, which was deserted now.

“Where have the Indians gone?” asked Docas.

“They went away across the mountains toward the rising sun,” answered Massea. “They live now in the big valley down by Tulare Lake.”

The next day they came to San Francisco. Docas was much interested in the big, new church that the Indians had just finished building. It was made of adobe bricks instead of brush.

They loaded the pictures into the cart and started home. As they went slowly along, Docas said, “Why don’t we have a big, new church like the one here at the Mission Dolores? I hate to put these new pictures in the old brush house.”

“We are going to build one very soon. Father Pena told me so just before we started,” said Massea.

The day after Massea and Docas came home from San Francisco, Father Pena came to Docas and said, “Docas, where is the best clay bank?”

Docas thought a moment. Then he answered, “At the back of Yisoo’s house. Every time we try to walk across it after a rain we get stuck.”

“Let’s go and take a look at it,” said Father Pena.

When they got there, they found Heema and Alachu making little clay mortars and pestles out of the adobe mud.

“They play here every day,” said Docas.

Father Pena picked up a dry mortar that Alachu had made a few days before. It had dried very smoothly, with no cracks in it. Father Pena nodded his head. “I think this adobe will do,” he said.

On the next day Father Joseph and a number of the other men came out to the adobe bank.

“Dig up a patch of adobe,” said Father Joseph to Massea.

The children all stood around and watched while Massea dug.

“Now pour some water on the adobe and mix it up,” said Father Joseph.

In a few minutes Massea said, “It doesn’t mix easily. The adobe is in such large lumps.”

“Jump in, children, and dance around in the adobe. That will break up the lumps and make the adobe into a smooth paste,” said Father Joseph.

Docas, Yisoo, and a number of the other boys jumped in.

“Take hold of hands and make a ring,” said Docas. “Now we will play we are having an eagle dance.”

“It’s great fun!” said Yisoo.

“I’m stuck!” cried Docas. Yisoo and the other boys ran to him and pulled him loose from the big sticky lump in which his feet had stuck.

They jumped faster and faster. “You’re jumping on my toes,” cried Yisoo to Docas.

Then they both laughed, for Yisoo was not hurt.

They jumped about so fast that very soon they had crushed every lump.

While the children were jumping, Massea was sitting on the ground near by, chopping tules. He carried the chopped tules to where the children were jumping.

“Stop jumping a minute while I throw these in. Then you can mix them with the adobe,” said Massea.

“What are the broken tules for?” asked Docas.

“To make the bricks stick together better,” answered Massea.

While the children were mixing the tules into the adobe paste, the men were busy, carrying piles of wooden moulds out from the Father’s house.

When the adobe was smooth, Father Joseph said, “Now watch me make the first brick.” He filled a mould with the mixture of adobe, tule, and water. “Now help me carry the mould to a smooth piece of ground,” said Father Joseph to Docas.

The mould had a bottom that slid out. Father Pena pulled the bottom out from under it after they set it down. Then he raised the sides of the mould, and the brick was left flat on the ground.

“What a nice brick!” said Alachu. She ran forward, and before any one could stop her, she put her hand down and tried to lift the brick. It was still soft, and her fingers made marks on it.

Father Joseph said, “You will have to wait until it dries.”

Docas had watched very closely. He went back to the hole and filled a mould; then he and Heema brought it out to the smooth piece of ground. They put it down near the first brick, pulled out the bottom and raised the sides just as they had seen Father Joseph do. And there was another brick.

Soon a great many Indians were at work making the bricks, and after a little while there were rows and rows of bricks drying in the sun. They were left lying flat until they were about two-thirds dry; then Docas went around and turned them up on their edges.

GETTING THE TIMBERS

One day Heema jumped into the hut where Ama was sitting. “Where’s Docas?” he asked.

“Out making bricks. What do you want of him?” answered Ama.

“We are going up into the mountains to get a big tree. Father Joseph wants him to come and help drag it down.” Before Ama could answer him he was off to find Docas.

Soon Father Joseph, Docas, Heema, and a great many other Indian men and boys started off for the mountains where the redwood trees grow. They took several oxen and several chains with them. The day before, Massea and two other men had gone up to the hills to fell the trees.

About noon the party came to the place where Massea was. He had two trees cut down, ready for them. They rested and ate some dried deer meat. After that they fastened the oxen to one of the trees that Massea had cut down; then they drove back to the Mission. The log dragged along behind the oxen until it reached the Mission.

Massea had cut down two trees. There were no oxen left to drag the second tree to the Mission, so Docas helped fasten some long chains to the log. Then all the Indian men and boys took hold of the chains and dragged the log down to the Mission themselves. It was not very hard work, for there were almost a hundred Indians pulling.

Early the next day they began to chop at one of the logs with their axes to make it square. When Massea saw that one side of it was flat he said, “Stop.” Massea and the other men tried to roll the log over on the other side, but it did not move at first.

“It is heavy,” said one of the men.

“Yes, but we must roll it over so that we can smooth the other side,” said Massea.

They gave another big pull all together, and the log rolled over.

At last, instead of a rough log with bark on it, it was a smooth, square piece of timber ready to use in building the church.

BUILDING THE CHURCH

After they had made many bricks, Father Joseph came to Massea and Docas and said, “We can begin to build the church now.”

Alachu had been playing with some of the broken bricks. That night she said to Docas, “I think you can’t build a very big church.”

“Why not?” asked Docas.

“It will tumble down,” said Alachu. “I built up a brick wall that was not any higher than I am, and it fell over while I went to get some more bricks.”

“Oh, but we are going to make ours thick. Father Joseph told father to-day that we should make the walls three feet thick. Besides, we shall fasten the bricks together with mortar.”

“What’s mortar?” asked Alachu.

“Sticky stuff to keep the bricks together,” answered Docas.

Next morning they began to build the Mission church. Day after day they worked. Massea and some of the men spread the mortar and laid the bricks, while Docas and other men and boys made more bricks.

It took so many, many bricks!

When the side walls and the end walls were made, Father Joseph told Massea to bring two of the square timbers, and set them up exactly in the center of each of the end walls. It was hard work getting them in place. Docas had to pull with all his might.

When they were putting up the timbers, Docas saw that Father Joseph had had some of the Indians make a large notch in the upper end of each. He wanted to ask what the notch was for, but he had asked so many questions since he came to live at the Mission that he thought he would wait and see.

As soon as the two posts were up, Father Joseph had the Indians lay a long tree from one to the other in order to make the ridgepole. The ridgepole lay snugly in the notch on top, so that it could not roll off. But even with the notch, Father Joseph said the ridgepole would not be steady enough. So he gave Docas some strings made of rawhide, and told him to climb up the posts.

“What for?” asked Docas.

“To tie the ridgepole fast to the posts,” answered Father Joseph.

Docas had climbed many a tree when making storehouses for acorns, so that it was easy for him to climb the posts. He sat on top of the ridgepole after he had finished tying the posts together. Alachu was watching him from below. He waved his hand to her, and she waved hers back.

“I do hope Docas won’t fall,” said Alachu to Heema. Docas knew that Alachu was a little frightened, so he thought, “I’ll show her what a big boy like me can do.” He slipped out on the pole and swung himself around on it until he was hanging by his knees. Then he pulled himself up again on top of the pole.

Alachu called out, “Do be careful, Docas!”

“I’m all right. Don’t be scared,” he called back. Then he stood up carefully and started to walk along the top of the ridgepole; but the pole was round and slippery, and he slipped. He would have fallen to the ground, but he caught hold of the ridgepole with one hand. He drew himself up again. Then he crawled back to the nearest post, slid down, and climbed off the wall to the ground.

Meanwhile, some of the Indians had been making curved tiles for the roof. The tiles were made of the same adobe mud as the bricks, but were baked in fires instead of being dried by the sun.

Alachu looked up at the ridgepole, then she looked at the tiles.

“They’ll not reach from the ridgepole to the wall. They will fall through,” said she.

“Not when we get ready to put them on,” said Docas.

Massea had brought down from the mountains a great many smaller trees. The Indians pulled the bark from these, and laid them in rows from the ridgepole to the outer wall. Across these Massea and Docas wove a network of twigs just as they did when they made the storehouse. They tied all these trees tightly to the ridgepole so that nothing could slip.

“There,” said Docas to Alachu, “do you think the tiles will fall through now when we lay them on top of that?”

So, after much work, the big church was built. The floor was covered with large, square bricks, the pictures were hung, the candles were put up. The images of the saints were placed around the walls. Near the front was a beautiful banner on which was a picture of the Mother of Jesus.

Docas was happy, for he was no longer afraid that their lovely things would get spoiled by the rain.

VISIT OF FATHER SERRA

By the time the church was built, Docas could sing very well. One day Father Pena gave him a new hymn to learn.

“It is very hard, Father,” said Docas.

“Yes, but it is very beautiful, and I want you to be able to sing it when Father Junipero Serra visits us,” said Father Pena.

“I would do anything for Father Serra,” answered Docas. “He loves us so.”

So every day after that for several weeks Docas practised his new hymn until he knew it perfectly. Yisoo learned it also.

“Father Serra will be pleased,” said Father Pena, one day when Docas had sung the hymn very well.

Sometimes, when Docas was tired of singing, Father Pena told him stories of Father Serra. Once he told Docas how Father Serra had walked hundreds of miles to start the Missions.

One morning soon after they were in school, Massea, who had been out in the fields, came hurrying up to the schoolroom.

“Father Serra is coming!” he called out. Father Pena dismissed the school, and went out to meet Father Serra. They were very glad to see each other, for they had not met for a long time.

Father Pena took Father Serra all over the Mission. He showed him the fields and gardens, and the Indian village a little way from the church.

Father Serra said, “I am pleased to see how well you are getting started.”

This was his first visit to the Mission Santa Clara since the new church was built.

The next day was Sunday. Docas was excited, because Father Serra was to say the mass, and he was to sing his new hymn.

The church was full, for the white people who had just come to live at San José, about three miles away, had come to church, too. By this time most of the Indians knew when to kneel and when to make the sign of the cross, but Massea stood in the aisle with a long stick. It was his duty to watch the other Indians. If one of them forgot to kneel down at the right time Massea poked him with the end of the stick.

After the mass, Father Serra preached; then Docas and Yisoo sang their hymn. After they had sung each verse, they waited for the people to sing it over after them.

When the service was over, Docas, Yisoo, and all the other Indians who had learned to play, took their violins and walked toward Father Pena’s house, playing dance music all the way. Father Pena and Father Serra walked along with them.

As they reached Father Pena’s house, Father Serra happened to notice Docas. He turned and said to him, “Love God, my son.”

Docas answered, “Love God, Father.”

Father Serra then said, “Are you not one of the two boys who sang in church?”

“Yes, Father,” answered Docas.

“You have studied well; I am pleased with you,” said the Father.

Father Serra stayed until next morning, and then he went to San Francisco.

VISIT OF CAPTAIN VANCOUVER

By and by Docas grew to be a man, and had children of his own.

One day, as he was going home to dinner, he saw some white men ride up to the Father’s house. He said to them, “Welcome. I will go and speak to the Father.” He called Father Pena, who came out at once and asked the men to come into the house. He told Docas to take the horses to the stable.

The strangers told the Father that they had come to California to see what new lands they could find and to trade a little. They were the officers of a ship that was anchored in the bay near the Mission at San Francisco.

The common sailors were getting more wood and water for their ship, so the officers had been given horses by the Fathers of the Mission at San Francisco and had come down to visit the Santa Clara Mission. The name of the leader was Captain Vancouver.

Father Pena and Father Diego, who had taken the place of Father Joseph, said they were glad to see them and that the next day would be a holiday at the Mission. The Fathers told the Indians that they might have a feast then.

Docas’s little boy, who was called Oshda, always went to Father Pena’s house at meal time to help wait at table. Several other Indian boys went also.

Next morning, when Father Pena was eating breakfast with Captain Vancouver, Father Pena said, “Now we’ll have some fun.”

He called Oshda to him and told him to bring in a plate of pancakes. Oshda smiled, for he knew what was coming. He almost ran as he went to get the cakes.

Oshda brought the plate of cakes and put it down by Father Pena. Father Pena then said, “Get into line.”

Quickly all the Indian boys placed themselves in a row on the other side of the room.

Father Pena took up a cake in his hand. He said something funny to Captain Vancouver. Oshda laughed, and the moment Father Pena saw Oshda open his mouth to laugh, he threw the cake into Oshda’s mouth. Oshda had to stop laughing, for his mouth was full of hot pancake.

He ate it as fast as he could, and then he was ready for another one. Father Pena kept throwing the cakes to the different boys, until no more cakes were left.

Docas went to the Father’s house just before breakfast. He said to Captain Vancouver, “Some of the soldiers are going to catch and kill some cattle for the feast. Would you not like to go out and watch?”

Captain Vancouver said he would, so Docas went to the stable and saddled some of the Mission horses for them, and one for himself also. They all rode together a few miles out from the Mission, where the cattle were feeding. The soldiers rode along with them.

The cattle were very large and would not let anybody come near them. Each of the soldiers had a long rope made of horsehair, with a noose at the end. He twisted one end of the line around the pommel of his saddle. The other end with the noose he swung round and round his head. This they called a lasso.

The soldiers decided which one of the cattle they would catch first, and then several of them galloped toward the animal. When they got close enough, they all threw their lassos at the same time. One of the men caught his line around the horns of the animal, another caught its hind leg, and another its fore leg.

The horses on which the soldiers were riding stopped short, and the animal was thrown to the ground, for the ropes held him tight so that he could not move. Then another man went up to him and killed him. Twenty-two of the cattle were caught and killed in this way before Docas said it was time to go home.

“We shall have a great feast to-day,” said Docas.

After the feast was over, the Indians danced and played games. The visitors again came out to watch them have a play fight.

They made Massea their chief and pretended that a large bundle of straw was the enemy. Oshda and the other boys and men got their bows and arrows. They jumped and danced around the bundle of straw, swinging their arms and yelling. Massea at last gave them a sign, and the Indians all shot their arrows at the straw bundle. Then they yelled louder than ever, for they were pretending that they had beaten the enemy.

Some of them put Massea on their shoulders, and others danced around him. They carried him up in front of the Fathers and the visitors who were watching; then they carried him back to the Indian village.

When it was time for evening service they stopped their games until after service and supper were over. In the evening they had a dance. After the visitors had stayed a day or two longer, they rode back to San Francisco.

PREPARING HIDES AND TALLOW

As Oshda grew older, he learned to throw the lasso. By the time he was grown he could lasso almost any of the cattle, no matter how fast his horse or the cattle were going.

He took the skin off every animal he killed and cut holes around the edge. Then he put stakes through the holes, drove the stakes into the ground as far apart as the skin would stretch, and left the skin to dry. Sometimes there were large places in the hills near the Mission, where the skins were laid so close together you could not see the ground.

Every time Oshda killed one of the cattle, he built a fire, hung some big iron kettles over it, and threw the fat parts of the cattle into these. Soon the kettles were full of boiling grease.

Docas had two more children besides Oshda,--a boy named Pantu and a little girl named Colla. Pantu and Colla liked to go with Oshda when he melted the fat. Oshda always said, though, that if they went with him they must work. There were many things they could do to help. They could bring wood and build the fire, and they could keep it going after it was built.

When the fire was built, and the fat meat was sizzling in the kettles, Oshda went off a little way and dug a hole in the black adobe. Then he said to Pantu, “Run and get me some clay from the clay bank.” The clay was wet and sticky. When Pantu brought it, it stuck to his fingers until his hands looked as if he had been making bricks.

Oshda took the clay and plastered the sides and bottom of the hole he had dug, smoothing them off until they were shiny. Docas came up just then with some long sticks.

Docas stuck one of the sticks in the middle of the hole.

Oshda then said to the children, “Make some more holes just like this one and stick the rest of the sticks up in them.”

After the fire had burned for a long time and the grease was cooked out of the fat meat, Oshda and Docas took one of the kettles off the fire. They brought it over by the edge of the first hole and tipped it on its side. Pantu and Colla wanted to see what was going on, so they crowded up close.

“Look out! The grease is very hot. It will burn you if you are not careful,” said Docas. So Pantu and Colla stepped back.

Then Docas and Oshda began to pour the hot grease into the hole. They poured until the hole was full; then they carried the kettle on to the next hole.

“What are you pouring the grease out on the ground for?” asked Pantu.

“So that it may get hard and we shall have a cake of tallow to sell,” answered Docas.

Next morning Pantu and Colla woke up very early. As soon as breakfast was over, they ran out to look at the grease in the holes. Pantu could run faster than Colla, so he got there first.

“Somebody has taken out the grease and put in some white stuff,” he said.

Colla took up a long stick. She stood off a little way and poked the white stuff with one end of the stick.

“It doesn’t move. It’s hard,” she said. She poked harder, but still nothing happened. Then Colla went close to the hole, stretched out her arm, and touched the white stuff with the tip of her finger. “It feels greasy anyway, if it doesn’t look like grease,” said she.

Pantu came up also and touched it. “It’s cold, too. Perhaps it is the grease and the cold has made it like this. You know Oshda said the grease would harden,” he said.

After a little, Docas and Oshda came along.

“Come, see how hard our grease is,” said Pantu.

“Yes, it is ready to put into the cart,” said Oshda.

Oshda took hold of the upper end of the stick and gave a big pull. The cake of tallow came out of the hole with a jerk. Docas took hold of the other end of the stick on the other side of the cake of tallow, and between them they carried it away to the cart.

MAKING THE OX-CART

Once Father Catala came out where Docas and Oshda were working. They were gathering up some hides and doubling them up with the hair inside. Father Catala was in charge of the Mission now, for Father Pena was dead.

Father Catala said to Docas, “We must get our hides and tallow over to Monterey. We want them to be ready for the next ship that comes to the coast to trade. Will you not begin to haul them within the next few days?”

“Yes, Father,” said Docas. “But the cart I have been using has such a big axle hole in the wheel that I can hardly use it. The axle has worn the hole very large.”

“Make some new wheels, and take some of the men and begin hauling the hides. We must have them down there by the time the ship comes.”

Docas told Oshda to make the wheels, so Oshda went back to his house and got an axe. He lived in an adobe house now. It had two rooms below and a garret above, and a garden fenced in behind where he kept chickens.

“Where are you going and what are you going to do?” asked Pantu, his little brother.

“I am going to cut down an oak tree to make some new wheels for the cart. Do you want to come along?”

Of course Pantu wanted to come along, and he was soon skipping by Oshda’s side. Oshda took such long steps that Pantu had to run part of the time to keep up with him.

They had to walk quite a distance from the Mission before they found a tree that they liked. It was about two feet through.

Oshda began chopping at the tree, while Pantu played about among the trees near by. Pantu played that he was a woodpecker and pecked away at the trunks of the trees. After he had pecked awhile, he stooped down, picked up an acorn, and stuck it into a little crack in the back of the oak tree. He pressed it in hard, so that it had to stick. So he ran from tree to tree.

After a while Oshda had chopped his tree almost through. At last the tree began to tremble and crack. He stepped back to see which way it was going.

As he did so he saw Pantu make a sudden dart across where the tree was going to fall. Pantu was not looking where he was going.

“Look out, Pantu!” Oshda called.

Pantu looked up and saw the tree falling toward him, so he started to run faster, but it was too late. The tree came down on top of him, knocking him to the ground. He was far enough from where the tree grew so that the trunk did not fall on him. But one of the branches hit him on the head and knocked him down, while another scratched the skin off his knee.

He jumped up as soon as he could, for he knew Oshda would be frightened. Even when he was standing up, Oshda could not see him because the tree had so many branches on it, so he had to climb out from among the leaves and broken twigs. His head ached and he felt like crying, but he knew that Indian boys never cry.

When Oshda saw that Pantu was not badly hurt, he began to chop up his tree. He found a place where the trunk was smooth and round; he chopped off two sections, each about a foot wide. He smoothed them off and made a hole through the centre. So his wheel was really just a slice across the tree with a hole in the centre for the axle. Oshda spent several days making the wheel, and Pantu went out with him every day.

“There, Pantu, you may roll one of the new wheels home,” said Oshda at last.

Oshda lifted the wheel up on its edge, and Pantu began to roll it along down the hills. Soon he grew careless, and the wheel slipped and fell down flat, hitting one of his toes. It was heavy and hurt him.

“Ouch!” said Pantu. Then he stopped short.

“You careless boy,” said Oshda. “First you run under a falling tree and almost get killed. Then you let your wheel fall down on your toes. You must be more careful.”

“I’ll try,” said Pantu, hopping about on one foot and holding the hurt one in his hand.

So Oshda tipped the wheel up on its edge again, and this time Pantu was very careful and rolled it safely home without letting it slip.

Their father, Docas, met them as they came home. It was almost supper time, and he had come out to see if they were near. He looked at the bump on Pantu’s head, at his skinned knee, and at his bruised toes. He knew that Pantu had not been paying attention to what he was about.

Pantu looked up at his father. Docas looked gravely at him, so Pantu hung his head a little and limped into the house.

Then Docas looked at Oshda and smiled. “He’ll learn not to be so careless by the time he gets a few more bumps,” said Oshda, smiling.

SHIPPING THE HIDES AND TALLOW

Next morning Oshda put his new wheels on the old cart. He then got two oxen and brought them in front of the cart. He put a strong, heavy piece of wood across just behind the horns of the oxen and fastened it to their horns with rawhide. Then he hitched this wooden yoke to the cart, piled the cart full of skins, and they were ready to go.

Pantu said, “Oh, father, may I go too? I could attend to the soap-suds.”

“Yes, you may go,” said Docas.

Oshda brought out a pail of very thick soap-suds and set it down in the corner of the cart. He also put in some soap to make more suds when that was gone.

At last they started. Oshda and Docas walked along by the side of the oxen, and poked them with sharp sticks to make them go. Pantu sat up in front of the load of dry hides. As they started out, the cart jolted, the dry hides crackled, and the axle squeaked. It made such a noise that Father Catala, who was in the field half a mile away, heard them coming.

When they came up to him, he said, “You had better put some more soap-suds in the axle holes. I heard the squeaking when you first started out.” So Pantu poured some more soap-suds on the axle.

A number of other carts were going along filled also with hides and with tallow. Docas was in charge of the whole party. They travelled all day and camped at night, and by the evening of the third day they were at Monterey.

They camped just outside of Monterey, and on the next day they went up into the town. They were wandering around, when suddenly they heard the cry of “Sail ho!” In a few seconds every one was calling “Sail ho!” and running down to the beach.

Pantu stood on the beach. It was evening, and the sun was down near the water. After a few moments he saw a little white spot far out on the water. Docas said it was the sails of the ship. There was a blazing path from the sun to the shore, so that Pantu had to shade his eyes, and even then he could not look long at the glowing water. But all of a sudden the sun seemed to sink into the water, and the glow faded.

“Oh, father!” called Pantu to Docas, “the sun has dropped into the ocean and the water has put it out.”

“Don’t be afraid. It will come up again as bright and hot as ever to-morrow morning,” said Docas.

Little by little the ship came nearer. Pantu stood watching it until it grew so dark that he could no longer see even the white gleam of the sails. Docas and Oshda had been gone a long time. But still he stayed down at the beach, although it was long past supper time.

“Come, Pantu, you must come home,” he heard Oshda saying at last.

“But I want to see the big ship come up on the beach,” said Pantu.

Oshda laughed. Then he said, “It will not come anywhere near the shore.”

Pantu said, “How can we get the heavy hides and tallow into the ship if it stays away off there?”

“It can’t come nearer. The water is not deep enough. But they will send some little boats ashore in the morning. We shall load the hides into them, and they will carry them out to the ship,” answered Oshda.

In the morning, Pantu was down on the beach very early. Soon he saw a boat leave the ship and come toward the shore. When a big wave came rolling up, the men in the boat rowed very hard. The wave brought them high up on the beach, then, as it began to run back again, the men jumped out into the water, seized the boat, and kept it from being washed back into the bay again. They fastened it so that no wave could wash it away; then they began to load the hides.

Docas and Oshda brought the hides and tallow down to the beach in the ox-carts.

All the sailors had on thick woollen caps. Pantu wondered why they wore that kind of cap, until he saw how they carried the hides.

A man came up on the dry sand where Docas and Oshda had piled the hides. He took up a hide and put it on his head. He waded out through the water, put the hide into the boat, and came back for another.

Soon all the men in the boat, except the two that held it from being tipped over, were running back and forth, carrying hides. The men had to be very careful not to get the hides wet, for they would spoil if they became damp. The sharp stones cut the men’s feet, but shoes could not be worn because the salt water would soon spoil them.

After the boat was loaded, the man who steered stood up in the stern. Two of the men got into the boat and took their oars ready to row. Two other men stood by the side of the boat to push it out when the time came. They waited until a big wave floated the boat; then the man who was steering said, “Now!”

The men outside seized hold of the boat, and ran out with it until the water was above their waists. Then they tumbled over into the boat and lay in the bottom, dripping wet.

The men at the oars pulled as hard as they could, but it was of no use. A bigger wave came and swept the boat up high on the beach.

The two men jumped out and turned the boat around so that its end pointed out to sea, and waited to try again. When a large wave came, they again ran out with the boat, and tumbled in after they got to deep water.

But the big waves came so close together that the boat was tossed up and down in the air. Sometimes a big breaker would roll out from under the boat, and let it drop on the water so hard that it seemed as if the bottom would be broken in. Finally, a big curling wave came. The boat was washed around sideways. The swell tipped the boat up, and then partly broke over it.

In a moment more, the boat was upset, and hides, men and oars were mixed up in the foaming water. They were all washed up high on the sand a second time. But now these hides were wet, so they must be stretched out in the sun to dry, and the boat must be loaded with some other hides and tallow.

The third time the men said: “We shall succeed this time. The seventh big wave is the last of the big ones for a while. We will wait for it.”

So they waited until six big waves had gone by. When the seventh came, a quick run and a hard pull carried them beyond the reach of the breakers, and they were safe.

“Do they always have such hard times getting off?” asked Pantu of a white man standing near.

“No,” said the man; “the waves are unusually high to-day.”

TRADING ON THE SHIP

After the hides and tallow had been sent up to the ship, the captain said that the people could come aboard and trade.

The Father from the Carmel Mission near Monterey said he was going to visit the ship. He took some of his own Mission Indians with him. Docas, Oshda, and Pantu went along also to trade for their Mission.

The sailors took them out in one of the boats. As the Father went on board the ship, the captain gave orders to fire the big guns of the ship as a salute to him; then the sailors showed the visitors all over the ship. Pantu was much interested. He thought, “If only we Indians could have boats and ships to sail about in instead of just tule-boats!”

At last the captain took them down into the trading-room. All around it were shelves, on which the goods were laid out. Father Catala had told Docas to bring a great many shoes and axes for the Mission, so he bought those first. Then the captain said, “You brought so many hides you can still have some more things.”

At first, Docas did not know what to take. There were so many new and beautiful things spread out before him. Soon he saw a round, flat, thick thing, about as big as a cake of tallow, with a hole through the middle of it.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a grindstone to sharpen your axes with,” answered the captain.

He showed Docas how to put a sharp edge on the axe with the grindstone, so Docas said he would take two of them. Docas also got some beads and a toothbrush for Pantu.

After the Father had finished his trading, they all got into the boat again, and the sailors started to row them back to the shore. When they were a little way from the ship, the sailors stopped rowing and rested, while the men on the ship fired a parting salute to the Mission Father.

All this time Pantu had been holding his toothbrush tightly in one hand. He was so happy to think that he was going to brush his teeth just as the little white boys did. As soon as they got to land, he jumped out and ran to the creek. He dipped the brush into the water, and he rubbed and rubbed his teeth with it. He rubbed so hard that the blood came.

“It isn’t so much fun as I thought it would be,” he said to himself.

On the next day they started for home, and Pantu had many things to tell Colla.

LEAVING THE MISSION

Bumpty-bump went the ox-cart as it rolled along on the wheels that had not been smoothed off perfectly round.

Creakity-creak went the dry axles, saying as plainly as they could, “We want some more soap-suds. We want some more soap-suds.”

Wobblety-jerk went the head of a small Indian girl who sat in the cart on some skin sacks filled with grain. With her were an old man and a boy a little older than herself. Finally her head gave an extra big jerk and hit against one of the posts at the side.

“Just like a girl to fall asleep and then bump her head,” said the boy. He straightened himself up and drew an old woollen cloth around his shoulders in imitation of the cloak worn by a Spanish gentleman who passed them on horseback just then.

The Spanish gentleman was Don Secundini Robles, who for years had been superintendent of the Santa Clara Mission. The old man in the cart was Docas, and the boy and girl were his grandchildren. Their parents were Oshda and his wife Putsha. The girl’s name was Yappa, and the boy’s was Shecol. Don Secundini had bought a large ranch about sixteen miles north of the Mission and was going there to live. Docas and his family were going to live with him and be his servants.

“I’m so tired riding in this old ox-cart,” said Yappa at last.

“You would be more tired if you had to walk all the way, as I did sixty years ago when we went to the Mission to live,” said Docas.

“Why didn’t you ride?” asked Yappa.

“We had never seen an ox-cart then,” answered Docas.

“Tell us about the time when you were young, grandpa,” said Shecol.

So Docas began and told them stories about the life at the old rancheria, and the fight with the Indians from the other rancheria. He told how they were saved by Father Pena from torture and how they went to live at the Mission. Then, he told them about the building of the big church, about the planting of the grainfields and orchards, about the thousands and thousands of cattle and horses that belonged to the Mission, and about the hundreds of Indians who lived under the care of the good Fathers. “Our Mission is not now what it used to be,” said Docas, sadly.

“What happened to the Mission?” Yappa asked.

“The Mexican government took away the lands and then the Indians left. Some have gone back to live at the old rancherias, and some, like ourselves, are going to live with rich Spaniards,” answered Docas.

Just then the cart stopped, and they all got out at their new home.

“Aren’t you glad the house is not built yet?” Shecol asked Yappa. “We shall have to camp out all the summer and we can play we are wild Indians again.”

So the children trapped fish and gathered acorns for bread just as their grandfather told them he used to do. Docas was too old to work much, but their father and older brother, Occano, helped Don Secundini build the big adobe house near which Docas was to spend the rest of his life.

PART III

WHEN DOCAS LIVED WITH DON SECUNDINI ROBLES