Chapter IV: Part III: When Docas Lived with Don Secundini Robles

WASH-DAY

“We must soap the ox-cart well to-night, Occano,” said Oshda to his oldest son.

“What does the Señor Robles want us to do to-morrow?” asked Occano.

“It is not the Señor that wants us to-morrow. It is the Señora. Now that the sun has come again, we are all going to start for the creek very early in the morning to have a wash-day,” said Oshda.

Next morning, before it was daylight, the oxen were yoked to the cart, and lunch was stowed away inside. Then Donna Maria, as they called the Señora Robles, climbed into the cart with her five children. Oshda and Occano walked by the side of the oxen.

There were five horses with soiled clothes piled up high on their backs, led by Pantu and other of the Indian menservants. Putsha, Colla, and other Indian women who were going to wash the clothes walked along by the side of the horses. Shecol and Yappa went too.

Before it was light, as they went slowly along, they heard the howling of the coyotes and other wild animals. The Spanish children crept closer to Donna Maria then, while Shecol and Yappa held on to Putsha’s skirts as they walked along.

As it grew light and the animals stopped howling, Donna Maria let the children get down from the cart and run along picking flowers with Shecol and Yappa. Such fun as they had climbing up the hillsides, gathering whole handfuls of the first shooting-stars and buttercups!

Once they all tried to run down a steep hill to see which one would be the first to get to a stray poppy that had blossomed earlier than the others. Shecol was ahead, but just as he reached the poppy, he caught his foot in a gopher hole and fell. The oldest Spanish boy was close behind, and he fell over Shecol. Yappa fell on top of him. The four other children were coming so fast that they could not stop, so they were all piled in a heap.

They got on their feet again as soon as they could, and Yappa said, “Shecol and the poppy must be crushed entirely.” But when Shecol could be seen again they found that he was laughing, and that he had happened to throw his arm around the poppy, so that it was not hurt.

Just then they heard Donna Maria’s voice calling, “Come, children. You will get left behind,” so they started off again on a run to catch up with the cart. Shecol gave the poppy to Yappa to carry; then he turned somersaults all the way down to the foot of the hill.

When they got to the cart, they filled Donna Maria’s lap with flowers. The smaller children were tired, so they sat in the back of the cart, with their feet hanging over behind.

The children all liked to have the wash-day come, for it was like one big picnic for them.

By and by they came to the creek. The men took the loads off the horses and unyoked the oxen. Then they turned them all loose to graze on the wild oats. The children helped the women carry the baskets of soiled clothes down to the rocks.

Colla, Putsha, and the other women put soap on the clothes. Then they dipped them into the creek and rubbed them on the rocks in the creek bed. This made the clothes very white, for the wash-water was always clean and fresh.

By noon the clothes were all washed, and the children had spread them out on the tops of the bushes to dry. Then came lunch. “How good everything tastes!” said Yappa. “We are so hungry.”

In the afternoon they all rested and played. By evening the clothes were dry, and everything was made ready to start for home again.

The Spanish children were all tired, so they crowded down near their mother in the cart. There was a little room left in the cart, and they begged that Shecol and Yappa might come in with them instead of walking all the way home. Donna Maria said “Yes,” so Shecol and Yappa nestled down in a corner of the cart.

Yappa was sleepy, and she leaned her head against Shecol’s shoulder. As the sun went down, the Indians began to sing “Kyrie Eleison.” She whispered to Shecol, “That’s the song grandpa sang when he was a little boy, and Father Serra visited the Mission.”

“Yes,” said Shecol.

The cart jolted along. The Indians kept on singing. A red moon came up over the mountains. A flock of wild ducks whizzed by just over their heads. The frogs began to croak in the little ponds near the road, and the crickets began to sing in the long grass.

Yappa fell asleep and dreamed that she was a little cricket and that she was trying to learn to sing “Kyrie Eleison,” but that it was such hard work, because, every time she tried to sing, all she could say was “Katy Do.” She felt very badly, for she dreamed that Father Serra was coming toward her and that he wanted to hear her sing.

Soon she thought that Father Serra stood before her, and said, “I am Father Serra. Will you sing for me?”

She answered, “I will try, Father,” and began. But all she could say was “Katy Do,” so she stopped.

“I am so sorry, Father, I tried to sing ‘Kyrie Eleison,’” she said.

“You have done well, dear girl,” said the Father. “You sang your own song the best you could.” Then he smiled at her and put his arm round her.

She woke up just then and found that they were at home, and that her father Oshda had her in his arms and was smiling down at her as he carried her into the house.

THE CASCARONE BALL

“The old white hen has stolen her nest, and Donna Maria says we must go and hunt for the eggs this morning,” said Shecol to Yappa one day.

“All right,” said Yappa. “But why doesn’t Donna Maria let that hen have some little chickens? We have brought her so many eggs lately.”

“Don’t you know why Donna Maria wants so many eggs these days?” asked Shecol.

“No,” said Yappa.

“Why, we are going to have a cascarone ball here next week,” said Shecol.

“Oh, goody!” said Yappa, clapping her hands.

They started off on a run and hunted everywhere for the nests,--down under the bushes, around the sheds, and out in the garden. At last, when they had given up in despair and were running home through the orchard, the old white hen jumped up with a startled cackle. She was almost under their feet.

“Be careful, Yappa. You will step on the nest,” said Shecol.

The children stopped short and began to peep about in the long grass. Soon they saw a little hollow with eleven eggs in it. Shecol had brought a basket with him, and they put the eggs into that and then carried them back carefully to the house.

That evening the Indians all gathered at Oshda’s house. Putsha brought out a basket filled with eggs. Putsha took one and said, “Watch me, Shecol and Yappa, so that you can do it, too.”

She made a hole in each end of the egg; then she put her mouth to one hole and blew all the inside part of the egg out into a dish.

While Putsha was blowing the egg, Colla ran up to the Robles’ house. Soon she came back carrying a large bowl of perfumed water in her hands. Putsha put the eggshell into the bowl, and the perfumed water ran into the shell through the holes in the ends. When it was partly full, Putsha lifted the egg out and dropped some melted wax on each of the holes in the ends. In a few minutes the wax hardened, and Yappa held in her hand what seemed to be an egg. But it was really an eggshell half filled with perfumed water.

“Won’t the people smell sweet when they get these eggs broken on their heads!” said Yappa.

Putsha, Colla, and the children worked hard that evening before they had all the eggs blown and filled.

The next night Putsha brought out another basket of eggs, but instead of perfumed water to fill them with, Donna Maria sent a basket of gold and silver paper, cut into tiny bits. The paper was a brittle, crackly kind that glistened in the light. Some of these eggs they colored red, some blue, some red and yellow, and some were spotted.

After the eggs were ready, the cooking began, and for two or three days the Indian women were busy at that. The Robles had invited all their friends from San José, and from all the country around. They knew that their guests would be very hungry after riding so far.

The ball was to be on Wednesday evening, Wednesday morning Shecol heard a great noise of shouting and laughing toward the south.

“They’re coming, Yappa. Let’s go to meet them,” he called.

When the children had run out a little way, they could see some people coming--about twenty-five in the party. These were the Spanish guests and their Indian servants. They were having great fun, for the men were fine riders. They could bend down from their saddles and pick flowers from the ground as they galloped past.

“I wonder what they are doing when they ride up against each other,” said Yappa. As they came nearer she saw that they were smearing each other’s faces with bright colors. Such looking people as they were! But as that was all part of the fun, no one cared.

The Robles family took their friends inside the house to wash their faces, while some of the Indian servants came to where Oshda lived.

“Oh, grandpa, here’s Yisoo’s son,” called Yappa to Docas as one of the Indians stopped at their door.

Yappa could not stay to listen to what they said, for she had to hurry and help her mother with supper. The long tables were set out in an arbor near the house.

In the evening came the ball, for which the largest room in the house had been cleared. Yappa and Shecol climbed up outside one of the windows where they could see everything that went on.

As soon as the people began to gather, came the fun of smashing the eggs on each other’s heads. Don Secundini Robles was standing in the crowd talking to one of his friends from San José, when Donna Maria came up behind him and smashed an eggshell filled with perfumed water on his head. Then she jumped back among the crowd before he could turn round to see who did it.

Every one laughed, for the scented water was running down all over his face and dripping off the end of his nose. Soon the guests looked as if they had silver and gold hair, so many of the paper cascarones had been broken on their heads.

By and by all the eggs were gone. Donna Maria saw Shecol sitting in the window.

“Run and get some napkins and some water,” she called to him.

“Come, Yappa,” he said, jumping down from the window and holding up his arms to help his sister. They ran to the kitchen and came back loaded. Putsha helped them carry in the pails of water.

As soon as the guests inside saw the water, they gave a shout. They dipped the napkins in the water and began to slap each other with the wet napkins.

Antonio, one of the men, slipped out and came back with a glass tumbler, and after that when any one slapped him with a napkin he threw a tumbler of water at him. By and by he threw a tumbler of water squarely in the face of Pedro. Pedro seized the bucket of water and threw the whole of it over Antonio. Everybody in the room laughed at Pedro and Antonio, and the water-throwing stopped.

By this time every one was tired, so they rested a little. Then the musicians started to play, and the real dance began.

Putsha and Shecol and Yappa went to bed soon after the dancing began, but the Spaniards danced until morning.

THE SHEEP-SHEARING

“How hot I am!” said Shecol to Yappa, taking off his big hat and fanning himself with it.

“What have you been doing?” asked Yappa.

“Driving the sheep into the pens,” said Shecol. “The shearing begins to-morrow.”

“I should think the sheep would be glad to get rid of their wool these warm days,” said Yappa, who was grinding corn.

“You had better hurry up with your tortillas. The shearers will be here in a little while. They have just finished shearing the sheep at the San Francisquito ranch,” said Shecol.

Soon the band of shearers came, and shortly after they arrived, supper was served to them under the spreading grape vines a little way from the house.

Yisoo’s son, Kole, was captain of the band of twenty shearers. It was made up of Indians from the old Santa Clara Mission.

As soon as supper was over, the shearers went down to the creek and came back with their arms filled with willow boughs, which Kole had them make into a number of brush huts. They slept in these while they were at the Robles ranch.

Oshda, Occano, and Pantu had been out for two days gathering together the sheep belonging to the Robles, and now there were five thousand sheep waiting in the pens, wondering what was going to happen to them.

A big shed had been built for the shearers to stand under while they worked.

Long before the shearers were up, Shecol was sitting on the fence and looking at the sheep.

“Where are you going to put the wool when it is cut off the sheep?” he asked his father, as Oshda came toward the pens.

“The men will toss the fleeces up to me, and I shall throw them down into this big bag. When the bag gets pretty well filled, I shall have to jump up and down on the fleeces so that we can get as many into the bag as possible,” answered Oshda. He climbed up one of the posts of the shed and stood ready for work by a large bag that was hanging in a frame at the edge of the roof.

In a few minutes more the shearers came and the work began. Pantu stood by a table, and every time a shearer brought a fleece to the table, Pantu gave him a five-cent piece.

Soon Yappa came out also to watch the shearing, but as hour after hour went by, the sun rose higher and higher, and the air grew hot and was filled with dust. By and by Yappa said, “I’m tired of watching them, Shecol. Let’s go and build a brush hut for ourselves with some of the willow branches that were left over from the shearers’ huts.”

“All right,” said Shecol. “We’ll play that we are wild Indians living out on a rancheria as grandpa used to do.”

In a little while the hut was built.

“Now I’m going to make a mat out of some of those tules you brought from the bay yesterday,” said Yappa.

“I’ll go out hunting, while you make the mats,” said Shecol, tying some string to a willow stick to make a bow to play with.

But just then Putsha called, “Come, Yappa, you must help me with the tortillas,” and their play was broken up.

After dinner, Shecol and Yappa went down to the shearing place again to see what was going on. As they came near, Oshda said, “Do you want a lamb?”

“Yes,” shouted Shecol and Yappa in the same breath. “Where is it?”

“Out at the end of the shed. Its leg is broken, and you may have it if you will take care of it.”

But they scarcely heard the last words he said, they were running so fast for the lamb.

“Poor little lamb!” said Yappa, as they bent over it.

“We’ll bind up its leg first,” said Shecol, getting some sticks for splints. He pulled some string out of his pocket and bound the splints on as well as he could.

“Now we’ll put it into the hut we made,” said Yappa.

Shecol lifted the lamb carefully in his arms and carried it toward the hut.

“Be careful. You are hurting it,” said Yappa. She placed her hand under the lamb, and put the wounded leg, which was hanging down, up in its proper place.

“I’ll run ahead,” said Yappa, “and get a pile of soft tule rushes ready for you to put it down on.”

In a few minutes more the lamb was lying on the rushes in the cool shade of the willow boughs.

“We must bring it some water,” said Shecol.

“Yes, and let’s name it Yisoo, after grandpa’s friend,” said Yappa.

The shearers stayed several days longer, but the children did not watch them any more, for they were taking care of their pet lamb.

THE BARBECUE

“Where’s father?” asked Yappa of her mother one afternoon.

“Gone off with Don Secundini to dig the pits for the barbecue,” answered Putsha.

“And where’s Shecol?”

“He has gone with them,” said Putsha. “But we must go to work, for we have bread to make and corn to get ready for tortillas to-day. The corn is all ready for you to grind. It has been soaked in the limewater. Begin to grind it while I build a fire in the oven.”

Yappa went over to what the Mexicans called a metate, and sitting down on the ground began to grind the corn. The metate was a big, smooth stone with two legs on one end of it. The legs made it stand up slanting. Yappa put some corn on the metate and ground it with another smooth stone.

Putsha built a fire in the big brick oven at the back of the house. She then came near where Yappa was at work, and began to make the bread. When the fire had made the oven very hot, she went to it, scraped the fire all out, and pushed the bread in on the hot bricks. Then she closed the oven door and left the bread until it was baked.

When the bread was in the oven, she said to Yappa, “Hurry, Yappa, and build a fire. Shecol will be back soon and he will be hungry. We must have some tortillas ready for him.”

“Isn’t father coming too?” asked Yappa.

“No; he will have to stay all night to turn the meat so that it does not burn,” answered Putsha.

Putsha put some big, smooth stones into the fire she had built outside on the ground. Then she brought some grease and rubbed it well into the cornmeal, so that the little grains of cornmeal all stuck together and made a paste.

By this time, the stone Putsha had put into the fire was very hot, so she pulled it out a little to one side and spread some of the batter over it. In a little while one side of the tortilla was brown, so Putsha turned it over to cook on the other side. Just as it was cooked Shecol came hurrying up.

“Anything to eat?” he asked.

The tortilla was just done, so Yappa gave it to him. He rolled it up like a jelly roll and began eating it.

“It’s good. Any more?” he asked between bites.

“In a few minutes,” answered Putsha. She had pulled out some more stones and was cooking more tortillas.

“What have you been doing, Shecol?” asked Yappa, as they waited for the other tortillas to cook.

“Digging a pit to cook the meat,” answered Shecol.

Next morning Donna Maria and three other women who were visiting her, got into one of the ox-carts, which was decorated with boughs and flowers. A second cart was standing near, and all Donna Maria’s children climbed into it.

This cart was lined with hides so that it was not only comfortable, but safe, for the hides kept the children from falling out. Putsha and Colla rode in this cart also, in order to take care of the children. A third cart was loaded so heavily with roast turkeys, chickens, corn-tamales, bread, and other things to eat, that it went “squeakity-squeak,” as it rolled along.

When everything was ready, Occano and some of the other drivers pushed the oxen with the ends of their long poles, and they began to move slowly away. The Indians walked along by the sides of the carts just as they did on wash-day, but this time all the men went as well as the women. Most of the men rode on horseback. One man played a violin, while another man rode behind him to guide the horse.

When they came to the place where the barbecue was to be held, Shecol took Yappa all round and showed her the meat cooking. As they walked along they saw Oshda.

“There’s father!” cried Yappa.

“Yes,” said Shecol, “he has been up here all night, turning the meat over to keep it from burning.”

As they came nearer Yappa saw a big pit in the ground about ten feet long. This was lined with stones. An ox had been cut in half and some long iron skewers stuck through the halves; then the oxen were hung across the top of the pit. Yappa gave a sniff.

“It smells good,” she said. “It’s getting brown too,” and she peered down into the pit at the glowing coals below.

They passed a place where some men had begun to dig in the ground.

“That’s where the head is cooking,” said Shecol.

“Down there in the ground?” exclaimed Yappa.

“Yes, we dug a little hole, lined it with stones, and built a fire. After the stones were very hot, we raked the fire out, scattered some dirt over the stones so that they should not burn the meat, and set the head right down in it; then we filled the hole with dirt.”

Don Secundini came up just as the men finished taking the head out of the hole. He brushed off the dirt and said, “This is the best of all the meat.” He took it over where Donna Maria was sitting and said to her, “You shall have the tongue.”

“Thank you,” said Donna Maria.

“I don’t think I ever tasted such good meat before,” said Yappa.

“It is so juicy and tender,” said Shecol.

Yappa looked around at the long tables. Then she said, “What a crowd there is!”

“No wonder,” answered Shecol. “The Robles have invited everybody from San José to San Francisco. See! There are Señor Soto and Señor Sanchez and Señor Martinez!”

After the people had finished eating, Yappa said, “Now what shall we do?”

“The men are going to ride on their horses and play games,” answered Shecol.

HORSEBACK-RIDING

After the people had finished eating, Don Secundini rode out in front of them. He leaned over from the saddle and picked up a leaf from the ground as he galloped along.

“Well done, Don Secundini!” said Don Francisco. “Here is a rooster for us to practise on to-day.”

As they came closer, Shecol saw the head of a live rooster sticking out of the ground. Just then he heard a shout and saw the oldest son of Señor Soto come on a gallop toward the rooster. As he passed the rooster, he leaned down and tried to seize it by the head, but he missed it. All the people laughed, and young Soto laughed too, as he turned his horse around and came back where they were.

“Better luck next time,” he said.

Pedro then tried to seize the head, but he, too, missed.

“You boys cannot ride so well as your fathers yet,” said Señor Sanchez. “Many a time have I seen Don Secundini ride for the rooster, and never yet have I seen him fail.” At this he seized Pedro playfully by the leg and pulled him down out of the saddle. Then he added, “Show the boys how it should be done, Señor Robles.”

So Don Secundini rode away a little distance, and then came galloping back. Suddenly he bent down, and in a moment more was holding the kicking, flopping rooster up in the air.

“Bueno, bueno!” they all cried.

“Let’s have the game of rods,” said the Señor Martinez. All the men and boys were on horseback, so they made a ring with the horses facing inward. Señor Soto rode around the outside of the ring with a thick stick in his hand. Soon he passed the stick to Pedro and then rode quickly away. Pedro chased him as fast as his horse could go, for if he caught up it was fair for him to whip the Señor Soto over the back with the stick.

Several times Pedro came very close to Señor Soto, but the Señor would give his horse a sudden pull and turn quickly to one side, so that Pedro could not hit him. Once, however, the Señor, instead of dodging, turned around to see how far away Pedro was. In a moment more Pedro was close beside him whipping him as fast as he could.

One of the blows happened to hit the Señor’s horse by mistake, and the horse gave such a jump that Señor Soto was able to get in Pedro’s old place in the ring before he could catch up again. Then the Señor was safe, and Pedro had to give the stick to some one else and be chased in turn.

By and by it was home time. Shecol was playing near and Pedro noticed him look wistfully at them as they turned to ride away.

“Would you like to go with us?” Pedro asked.

“Yes, I would,” was Shecol’s answer.

“But how could you take him? He can’t ride yet,” said Don Secundini.

“I could put him on a blanket on the ground and tie the blanket to my saddle with a lasso, the way Antonio does with his little brother,” said Pedro. “Run off and tell your mother while I get the blanket,” continued Pedro.

In a few minutes they had started. At first Pedro went very slowly and carefully, for fear Shecol would tumble off, but after a little, Shecol said, “You may go faster if you like. I can stick on all right.” So Pedro let his horse begin to gallop.

Suddenly he heard a shout. He looked around and saw Shecol sitting on the ground quite a distance behind. The blanket was bumping over the ground at his horse’s heels. He stopped his horse and waited until Shecol caught up with him, and after that he went more slowly, for he did not want to lose Shecol again.

THE RODEO

“Is it going to rain? Look at that big cloud,” said Yappa to Shecol one afternoon in June.

“I hope it will not rain to-day,” said Shecol, “for you know we are going to have a round-up of the cattle and then a barbecue afterward.” In a moment more he added, “I know; it’s a dust cloud that the cattle are making as the men drive them along.”

“Come on, then; we shall just have time to climb the tree by the corral,” said Yappa, starting off to run.

Shecol followed after, and in a few minutes they were both safely seated on the branch of a large live-oak tree near the corral.

“I do hope we can find our calf again,” said Yappa. “You know Don Secundini said when he gave it to us last year that we could not keep it unless we could tell it when we saw it this year.”

“Oh, I think we shall know it,” answered Shecol. “Remember the white spots on its forehead and on its left hip.”

Soon a number of men came riding out toward the corrals. The servants rode off to help drive the cattle, while Don Secundini, Don Francisco, Señor Soto, Señor Sanchez, and Señor Martinez halted their horses just under the tree where Shecol and Yappa were sitting.

“We shall have a fine place to see from,” said Shecol.

The men below them looked up when they heard a voice above. Don Secundini laughed. Then he said, “Don’t fall down, little ones. These cattle aren’t used to children, and they might hurt you.”

“We’re going to look for our calf,” said Shecol.

In a few minutes Yappa said, “There they come!”

Shecol peeped out from among the leaves and saw Oshda and Pantu driving a little bunch of cattle toward them.

As the bunch came nearer, Don Francisco said, “There are two of my cattle. I see my brand on the hip.”

One of Don Francisco’s men rode up, separated his two cattle from the others and drove them to one side. The rest of that bunch belonged to Don Secundini, so they drove the calves into a corral where they could be branded. The old ones they drove off in another direction.

As the second bunch came near them, Yappa saw a little calf running along with one of Don Secundini’s cows. The calf had a white spot on its forehead and one on its left hip. Yappa gave Shecol a pull and said, “There it is.”

“Where?” asked Shecol.

Yappa pointed it out, but Shecol said, “That can’t be our calf. That’s the way our calf looked last year. It will have grown to be very large by this time, and besides, father branded it with Don Secundini’s brand. This calf has no brand yet.”

They looked over every bunch that came by, hoping to find their calf. At last, as their eyes were beginning to get tired, Shecol said, “Don Secundini, look at that calf at the head of the bunch that is coming. That’s ours.”

Don Secundini looked at the calf, then he said, “Yes, Shecol, it is yours. You have won the calf.”

The herders kept on bringing up bunch after bunch of cattle and letting each owner pick out those that belonged to him. The cattle had been running wild for so many months that those from the different ranches were all mixed.

There were so many to look over that their herds were not nearly sorted out by evening, so, while some of the men drove home the neighbors’ cattle, others prepared to keep the main herd together all night.

“And now how are you youngsters going to get home?” asked Don Secundini, as he gathered up his bridle-reins ready to ride back to the house.

“Aren’t they going to drive the cattle away from here?” asked Shecol.

“Not until to-morrow evening. I’ll speak to your father about you,” said Don Secundini.

When Oshda saw where they were, he rode up to the tree. He said, “You cannot walk home through these cattle. Drop down behind me on my horse.”

First Yappa, then Shecol, dropped down on the horse. Yappa put her arms around Oshda, and Shecol put his arms around Yappa. In this way they did not fall off as they rode home.

After supper Oshda said, “Good-by. I have to watch with the cattle until midnight.”

The cattle were restive, for they were in a strange place. All of a sudden an owl gave a screech from a tree in the midst of the herd. The cattle became frightened and began to run toward Oshda. There were so many of them and they were coming so fast that Oshda knew he would be run over if he rode toward them, so he turned his horse and rode as fast as he could ahead of them.

When he got a little ahead, he began to turn the herd toward the left. He did not try to turn the whole big herd at once, but only to make the front ones run crosswise. The other herders helped him, and soon more of the cattle began to run toward the left.

After a little the whole herd were running round in a circle. The herders let the cattle run round and round as long as they liked, but by and by the cattle got so dusty and tired and dizzy that they stopped running of their own accord. The herders then drove them back again, for they were no longer afraid.

When the cattle were safely back, Oshda said, “We must keep singing or whistling all night. That will let the cattle know that some one is near them, and they will not be so easily frightened.”

So all the rest of the night the darkness was filled with the sound of singing, and the cattle were quiet. Oshda and the herders with him watched until midnight; then others came out to relieve them.

Meanwhile, the people at the Robles’ adobe had been having a gay time, for they had a barbecue under the spreading grape vines when they first went to the house, and in the evening they had a dance.

Next morning the work with the cattle began again, and all day every one was busy. At the end of that time, the cattle belonging to the different ranches were separated, the calves were branded with the special mark of the owners, and the cattle were all turned out to roam again.

FOR A CONCLUSION

And so Docas lived his life,--as a small boy at the Indian rancheria, as a larger boy and man at the Mission, and as an old man with his children and grandchildren about him at the home of Don Secundini. He was a very old man when he went to the Robles’ home, for it was in 1769 that the first white man came to the rancheria, and it was 1849 before Don Secundini built the big adobe ranch house. His life of mingled play and work is ended, and therefore ended also is the story of Docas, the Indian boy of Santa Clara.

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In addition to the above bibliography much of the material used has been obtained either from personal interviews or from unprinted manuscripts. Especial help was received from Don Pablo Vasquez, the late Mary Sheldon Barnes, Frank Polley, Mrs. J. A. Salaceti, Dane Coolidge, and Antoinette Knowles.

PRONUNCIATION OF NAMES

INDIAN NAMES

Alachu Ä lä´chū
Ama Ä´mä
Apa Ä´pä
Colla Kō´lä
Docas Dō´käs
Heema Hē´mä
Keoka Kē ō´kä
Kole Kō´lā
Massea Mäs sā´ä
Occano Ō kä´nō
Oshda Ōsh´dä
Pantu Pän´tū
Putsha Pū´chä
Shecol Shē´cōl
Umwa Ūm´wä
Yappa Yä´pä
Yeeta Yē´tä
Yisoo Yē´sū

SPANISH WORDS

Almaden Äl mä dān´
Antonio Än tō´nyō
bueno bwā´nō
Carmel Cär māl´
cascarone cäs cä rō´nā
Catala Cä tä´lä
Diego Dyā´gō
Dolores Dō lōr´ās
Donna Maria Dō´na Mä rē´ä
Don Secundini Robles Dōn Sā kūn dē´nē Rō´blas
Guadalupe Gwä dä lū´pā
Junipero Serra Hūn ē pā´rō Sār´rä
metate mā tä´tā
Monterey Mōn tā rā´
Pena Pā´nä
Portola Pōr tô lä´
rancheria rän chā rē´ä
rodeo rō dā´ō
San Francisco Sän Frän thēs´cō
San Francisquito Sän Frän thēs kē´tō
San Jose Sän Hō sā´
Santa Clara Sän´tä Clä´rä
Señora Sān nyō´rä
Señor Martinez Sān´nyōr Mär tē´nāz
Señor Sanchez Sān´nyōr Sän´chāz
Señor Soto Sān´nyōr Sō´tō
tortillas tōr tēl´lyas
Tulare Tū lä´rā
tule tū´lā

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.