Chapter VI: The Merienda

"Daughter mine, awake! 'Tis the day of the merienda."

"I'm up, little papa."

A rasp of file on flint was heard as she struck a light.

"Ugh-oo-oo! the water's cold."

The old don laughed. "Cold water drives the sands of sleep from the eyelids, child."

He walked along the corridor to his sitting room. The large time-piece showed four o'clock and three minutes. Five minutes later his daughter joined him, clad in tanned-skin blouse and skirt, with a straw sombrero on her head.

"Here I am, papacito. Is breakfast ready?"

"Breakfast waits, but the coming of the morning waits not."

The peons served them by candlelight.

Soon they were ready for the start.

Before the courtyard gate were the doña's carreta, the señor's horse, and a squad of mounted fighting peons. Servants placed soft tule grass in the carreta, lambwool comforters, for greater ease in riding.

In double file marched the mounted peon soldiers, the carreta between, while the lord of the hacienda rode by his daughter's side. Thus they reached the plaza of the village near the Mission San José.

The place was alive with carretas bearing mothers, dueñas, and daughters, with caballeros, with bustling peons and early-risen Indian children.

Lanterns were strung around the square, in the middle of which blazed a big bonfire. The caballeros capered their horses before the carretas. The señoritas applauded by "Brava! Brava!" or shrieked at some unusually daring equestrian feat.

Captain Moranda was early at the plaza. Many a señorita turned her glance from adventurous youth and cavorting horse to the soldier in trig uniform, whose steed was frequently by the side of Doña Carmelita's carreta.

Preparations were now under way for the setting-out. Each carreta now had four horses, tandem, a postilion mounting the wheel animal of each team.

"Sunlight on the peak!" intoned a peon stationed on a rooftop.

Señor Mendoza, in charge of the affair, looked carefully over the carretas arranged longitudinally, the caballeros around them, and the fighting peons armed with carbine and saber. "Adelante!" he shouted and galloped away at the head of the cavalcade.

The carretas surged forward. At the end of an hour, half way up the mountain, Mendoza gave a command to halt.

The eastern sky was rosy. The morning star still shone undimmed though all others had retired. The cañon facing the procession was hidden in purple twilight, while the mountain peak blazed like some glory throne. The joyful men and women became silent before the majesty.

In the valley the light was chasing the shadows up the hills. These shadows were flying to the picnickers as if for protection, when, lo! the sun was on the eastern horizon.

Mendoza signaled Captain Morando, who chanted the opening line of Saint Francis of Assisi's "Canticle to the Sun."

Tongue after tongue caught up the words. The Indians, who had been taught singing and knew well the music of the church, united with the others, and the swell of five hundred voices rolled over valley and hill.

"O, most high, Almighty, good Lord, to thee belong the praise, honor, and all blessings:

"Praised be our Lord, for our brother the wind, and for air and cloud, calms and all weather, by the which thou upholdest in life all creatures.

"Praised be my Lord for our sister water, who is very serviceable unto us, and humble, and precious, and clean.

"Praised be my Lord for our brother fire, through whom thou givest us light in the darkness; and he is bright, and pleasant, and very mighty and strong.

"Praised be my Lord for our mother the earth, the which doth sustain us and keep us, and bringeth forth divers fruits and flowers of many colors, and grass."

"Adelante!" again called Mendoza, and once more they were off. The odor of pine reached them at one height; at another the resinous redwood, in mammoth groves, pointed skyward. The señoritas and caballeros talked, laughed, sang, and perhaps mildly flirted.

At ten o'clock they reached the entrance to the cañon which marked the beginning of Calaveras Valley. Vast tangles of blackberry bushes were everywhere, creeping up the cañon side, festooning projecting rocks, climbing trees, ivylike, and dropping their branches dark with ripening fruit. Tinkling rills ran along, unaffected by the drought. Colonies of birds floated in the air, sang in the trees, or, fluttering around the vines, ate their fill.

From time immemorial these grounds had been carefully guarded from everyone till the merienda day at close of spring, on which occasion the first fruits were gathered by the land barons and their select company, with feasting, dancing, and merrymaking.

After that day all embargo was removed, and the products of the valley were free to all.

According to custom the señorita whose carriage first reached the merienda ground was queen of the day, and an early-California chariot race occurred yearly here.

Down the inclined way the carretas went, toward the bottom of the valley where the choicest berries grew.

Mendoza wheeled his horse and gave the command to stop. "We rest a few minutes. Then, let the carretas which compete in the race range themselves as will be directed, and start at the word."

Pedro Zelaya and Fulgencio Higuera were appointed judges.

Carreta after carreta drew forward. Soon a score or more were side by side, to enter the contest.

The judges were busy moving one team forward, another back. When all were at equal advantage the stalwart Higuera called:

"Make ready! Run!"

Away they went, the caballeros fringing the sides, the other carretas trailing in the rear. Weeks of patient labor of the peons had made the course even and smooth.

"Now! Now!" cried Hernandez. "I'll show Mendoza my Mexican imported horseflesh is superior to his Californians. Boy," to the postilion, "taut with the reins, and ready with the whip!"

"Hoop-la! Hoop-la!" the drivers shouted to their straining teams, the long whiplashes curling from their hands and touching the splendid animals in stinging crack, while the caballeros admonished or encouraged.

"The spur on the wheeler, Miguel! The lash on that leader!" or, "Grande! Grande! Martino. Another such spurt and you win!"

Lolita Hernandez, Alfreda Castro and Carmelita Mendoza were ahead. For a minute the three carretas ran neck and neck.

Marcel Hernandez, father of Lolita, rode by her team. In the enthusiasm of the moment he urged the horses with his riding-whip and joined with the postilions in shouting, "Hoop-la! Hoop-la!"

Patricio Martinez, Alfreda's long-time cavalier, hovered near her, shouting: "Now's your chance, Diego! Stir up that pinto! Ease the bit on that sorrel! Go it, my beauties!"

The Doña Carmelita's peon had a cool head, driving so as to draw from the other racers their best speed. Little by little he lessened the swiftness of his own horses, allowing the others to forge ahead.

The Hernandez Mexicans and the Castro Andalusians held their own, side by side, as if in double harness. For more than a hundred paces it seemed neither one gained nor lost a hairbreadth. Suddenly the Castro animals winded. High-stepping and proud, they gradually lost. Magnificent in their defeat they fell back.

"Huzza! Huzza!" yelled Hernandez. "I knew I breed the best stock in the valley. My daughter shall be queen of the fiesta."

Then Carmelita's peon gave rein to his horses. They sprang from the ground and rushed onward. For an instant the two carretas ran together, each splendid horse, straight-backed, ears low, nostrils distended, striking his feet in unison with his fellows. Soon the Hernandez team began to slip backward foot by foot.

"Diablo! Diablo!" thundered Hernandez. "Peon, urge your horses! Use the whip!"

The Hernandez Indian dug his spurs into his mount, and cruelly flayed the leaders.

The other carreta yet more quickly moved ahead. Already the Mendoza wheeler was abreast the Hernandez leader.

Above the roar of the vehicles sounded the plaudits of the caballeros.

"Viva! Viva, Mendoza! Viva the California horses! Viva the Señorita Mendoza!"

A stone the size of a walnut caught in the hind shoe of Mendoza's wheeler. The steady pace of his horses broke.

The Hernandez animals pressed on.

"Swing out, boy, swing out! Sweep in from the side!" exulted Hernandez. "Victory for the Mexican horses!"

The driver turned his team. "Bueno, boy, bueno! Now straight ahead! Loose the rein! Let 'em go!"

The Mendoza postilion bent affectionately over his horse. "Fly, Mercurio! Fly! for the doña's sake!"

He unstrung his whiplash. It burned the leaders with living fire. They leaped forward, the tremendous stride flinging the pebbles from the wheeler's hoof.

Along the roadway the horses sped, lessening the Hernandez advantage at every bound. After them poured the yelling, gesticulating crowd.

A hundred paces only remained.

The shouting ceased, the tenseness of the moment closing every throat.

The Mendoza carreta overtook the other, passed it, and reached the goal two lengths ahead. Carmelita was the queen of the day!

With a flourish the Doña Carmelita's postilion drew up before the pavilion at the merienda ground, Mendoza and Captain Morando assisting the breathless, excited girl to alight.

Caballero and carreta whirled into the open space around her.

"Hail! Hail, to the queen of the merienda!" arose on all sides. She bowed right and left in acknowledgment.

On one side of the building stood a dais whence the queen ruled her loyal subjects.

"Come, little one," her father said. "Your ladies of honor will accompany you to your throne."

Lolita and Alfreda walked with her to the dais, then curtsied in deference.

"Your wishes, queen of the merienda?" they asked.

"For one hour let matron, maid, and man gather blackberries for the feast. Then all shall come to luncheon in the pavilion, not forgetting to bring the fruits of their labor. For the afternoon my command is that all enjoy themselves to the full."

Thus briefly spoke the ruler of the day; after which she took her willow basket and hastened to gather berries, as did her maids of honor and everyone else.

The appointed time saw all assembled near the feast tables which had been made ready by the peons. Heaping dishes of berries were conspicuous among a variety and abundance of viands.

Colonel Barcelo, commander of the presidio at Monterey, with his wife and her younger sister, the Señora Valentino, rode up on horseback.

The Colonel and his wife were well known to the picnickers. His sister-in-law had but lately arrived from Madrid.

The newcomers were accorded a gracious reception.

"Happened to be visiting near San José. Hearing of the merienda, we came along without an invitation," said Barcelo, laughing. "Besides, I wished Señora Valentino to witness one of our festal days. It is unique. Madrid itself holds nothing to equal it."

The brown eyes of the lady from Madrid flashed in accompaniment to her pearly teeth. "Rare things have I seen in California in the fortnight I am here."

"In a moment luncheon is served. My worthy Barcelo, I invite you and your party to our table. My daughter and a few others sit with us. Come, friends," spoke Señor Mendoza, true to the unbounded hospitality of the California grandee.

A peon sounded a gong. The hungry merienda folk lost little time in coming to the meal.

Señor Mendoza was at the head of his table, Doña Carmelita at the foot. At the host's right and left were seated Colonel Barcelo and his wife; Señora Valentino, by his sister. The ladies of honor, with Hernandez, who sat by his daughter, filled the other places, except one. This had been reserved for Morando, who now came up.

"An accident to one of the horsemen detained me for the past half hour," was his explanation to Señor Mendoza.

"A caballero's misfortune always calls for assistance from a brother," replied Mendoza. Continuing: "Captain Morando, I wish to introduce you to Señora Valentino, who favors us to-day by her presence with her relatives, the Barcelos. Señora Valentino, may I present Captain Moranda?"

The señora acknowledged pleasantly the Captain's low bow.

"Captain, to your chair," from Mendoza.

Conversation lulled for a little. Early hours and open air had given zest to the appetite.

"My dear Señora Valentino, I wish you could have seen our carreta race this morning," remarked Señor Mendoza. "But it will not be the last."

"While I say nothing against the race of this morning as such," interposed Hernandez, "for it was good enough as far as it went, I do claim that my horses were better than yours, Mendoza. Your peon rider happened to be more at home in his business than was mine, nothing more. I wish I had been in that postilion's place myself; then there would have been a different story to tell."

"A horse can display but the swiftness his limbs possess," rebutted Mendoza.

"Riding is not what I knew in my youth," commented Hernandez, who was giving ample appreciation to the pleasures of the table.

"Captain Morando, were you not at a ball given in Madrid last year by the officers of General Guerrero's division in their quarters?" said Señora Valentino.

"I was, indeed. And now, señora, I remember you well. Strange I did not recall you at first."

"The fact that I was in ball-dress then and in riding-habit now is, undoubtedly, what prevented you from recognizing me before."

"Why, we have old friends here!" interjected Colonel Barcelo.

"How is Colonel Valentino, your husband?"

"Shortly after that ball of which we speak my husband was ordered to service in Morocco, and there he laid down his life for his country."

"I regret that my question called up sad memories. Nearly a year have I been away from Madrid, and news travels slowly to us here. I offer to you my sympathy in your great loss."

"You are very kind, Lieutenant--I should say, 'Captain' Morando. But--what is past is gone. It is well, then, to forget. A wonderful life these Californians live!"

"I trust Colonel Barcelo and his lady will find opportunity while in this vicinity to bring you, señora, to visit us at our home in Mission San José. What says my daughter?"

The Doña Carmelita cordially seconded her father's invitation. The Barcelos accepted; the Señora Valentino likewise.

"Mission San José--Mission San José--" mused the latter. "Is there not living there a Franciscan friar, one Lusciano Osuna?"

"It is so," assented Mendoza.

"I heard he was in California, and as you mentioned the Mission San José it came to me that was given as his present home."

"A man of some importance, probably, in Spain," volunteered Señor Hernandez.

"I do not know him personally," replied Señora Valentino. "In the cathedral of Barcelona I heard him give the Lenten sermons several years ago. It was quite shortly after his ordination, but his discourses possessed rare charm and power. The city was literally at his feet."

"Strange such a man comes here as a mission padre?" observed Hernandez.

"It was his request. Some unknown powerful influence seconded him, else Spain would not have lost her great preacher."

At that moment the strains of the grand march floated through the pavilion, from the excellent orchestra provided for the dancing.

Captain Morando was quickly at Doña Carmelita's side. "Señorita the Doña Mendoza, may I claim your favor for the grand march and the waltz following?"

It was granted.

Carmelita and Morando were at once circling in the waltz.

"I still have the rose which fell to me from the sky one moonlit night a month ago."

"Does it keep so long?" mischievously.

"It is pressed in a book of poems. Each couplet of book-leaves holds a petal. The odor of the petals speaks to me the same thought which is the subject of these poems. Shall I tell you what it is, Señorita Doña?"

"Hush! the music ceases. Lead me to a resting place."

There was to be no resting for Señorita Mendoza. Importunate youths claimed dance after dance.

The elders, men and women, were scattered around in groups, some looking at the dancing, others conversing, a few playing cards.

Señor Valentino, owing to her recent bereavement, did not dance. She seated herself on a rustic bench beneath a widespread sycamore, where she was soon the center of an interested coterie. The lady so recently from Madrid retailed to Spanish-born gentry the news of the distant imperial city.

After a while Captain Morando came up. Soon the two were in animated conversation.

"Ah! Captain, not on the floor! Foot-weary so soon?" spoke a dueña who now joined them.

"No, señora, not foot-weary. I forego for a time the pleasures of the dance that I may listen to the words of our beautiful visitor here."

He made a low bow to Señora Valentino, who laughingly extended her hand to him. He bent sweepingly over it, barely touching the ends of her fingers with his.

"The Señor Captain Morando!" a man's voice called at his elbow. It was Abelardo Peralta. The music and dancing had stopped. The guests were assembling around the dais on which was seated Doña Carmelita.

"Our queen demands your presence, Señor Captain," Peralta went on.

The Captain was shortly before her majesty the queen of the fiesta.

"The games are about to begin, Captain Morando. Do you not remember that I appointed you and Don Abelardo to define the boundaries of the racing course, and to determine the various goals? Also please to remind the Señora Valentino that she is requested to crown the victors."

As the afternoon waned the interest in the athletic events increased. The footraces for young men showed that the sons of the province were nimble of limb, and won the approbation of Pedro Zelaya himself, whose swiftness was credited with being only less than a fast-galloping horse.

The señoritas ran a shorter course very creditably.

Then came a contest of knife-throwing in which the men of the period were wonderfully proficient. The knife was flung, blade extended, from the palm of the hand with such force that the point of the weapon would sink several inches into a wooden target placed twenty, thirty, or more, paces away.

"Hoop-la! Hoop-la!" came through a cloud of dust. A number of vaqueros had driven a wild steer from the mountains to the race course. The picnickers looked at the animal from their safe position on the platform. Again and again the creature charged at the vaqueros, who deftly swung their horses out of harm's way.

"Send him here!" some young fellow called to one of the herdsmen.

"No, no," another cried, "send him over this way to me."

The animal pawed the earth, bellowed, and rushed around the race course in fury.

Don Pedro Zelaya climbed out on a projecting tree-branch and dropped on the animal's back, in the midst of one of its mad careenings. It stood stock still for a moment in bewilderment. Zelaya's sharp spurs soon stirred it into action. It ran, leaped, even bucked like a broncho, in trying to rid its back of the burden, but in vain.

"Brava! Brava! Señor Zelaya. Soon will you have another gentle pony."

"Let him chase thee around the race course," yelled a youth. "One hundred pesos to fifty he catches thee!"

Zelaya found time to wave his acknowledgment of the persiflage.

The steer suddenly tried rolling over and over to free itself. The man sprang to the ground each time it dashed itself down; then, with the litheness of a cat, leaped to its back as it arose.

The animal finally gave up all efforts to throw the rider, and ran at full speed around the racing track, amidst the loud plaudits of the assembly.

Señor Zelaya drew himself back into the branches of the tree, after a little, and his mount escaped to the forest.

The men exhibited all manner of fancy riding. Some rode at the flank of a horse at gallop, or under the belly, or astride the neck. Others leaned from their saddles in flying sweep and picked up coins from the ground; or drew from the sand chickens buried to the head, yet so gentle the rider's hand that the fowl was not in the least injured.

The shadows come early in the deep cañons. The queen sent her messengers to call the people around her throne while the winners received their prizes. Abelardo Peralta announced, in her name, that after the distribution luncheon would again be served in the pavilion.

"Our queen makes Don Abelardo her chief courtier," remarked Lolita Hernandez in the hearing of a number.

"They have been friends since childhood, Señorita Lolita," returned this young lady's dueña.

Lolita laughed mirthlessly. "I fancy the captain from Madrid has offended. Perhaps her majesty saw him kissing Señora Valentino's hand this afternoon."

"Fie! Fie!" from another dueña. "He touched only the tip of that lady's fingers with his own. I saw it myself."

"Diffident soldier!" from a grave señor. "In my youth I would not have been content with so slight a token."

"Manuel! Manuel!" from his wife.

"Señora Moraga, thy husband thinks on his courtship of thee," spoke yet another dueña, laughing.

"I'm sure it looked as if the Captain kissed the stranger lady's hand," Lolita reiterated. "I'm sure too Carmelita saw it, for we were dancing in the same set when it happened."

"'Twas but a lady's favor and a man's privilege, little one," said Moraga.

"Manuel! Manuel!" again from his wife. "And before such a child as Lolita!"

"I know Carmelita favored Captain Morando above Don Abelardo the day of the dinner at her father's house. I saw it, and so did all the girls. I know she changed toward him to-day after what I--saw. I know she did."

Señora Valentino approached the group.

At almost the same moment Morando came up from the opposite direction, having been at the race course collecting from the judges their decisions as to the victors.

"Ah! Captain mine, bearest thou a word for beauty as well as for prowess in athletics?" questioned Moraga.

"The queen has appointed no judge of beauty. Even the wisest would find bewilderment here where all are so fair," replied the gallant Morando.

"Our Captain is a diplomat," smiled the señora. She bowed to the gentleman in question; he yet lower to her.

A messenger advanced, saying with much ceremony: "Señora Valentino, the queen requests you to crown the winners from the dais. Captain Morando, you are commanded before the throne there to read your reports."

The señora curtsied. "My sovereign's will is mine."

The soldier saluted, but before he could make speech Mendoza's hand was on his shoulder. "Pardon me, friends, I have a word with the Captain."

"Morando," said the old don when they were apart, "you may not know the keen instincts of our wild animals for change in weather. Bear and mountain lion are hurrying through the forest here back to the high mountains. During the drought they have been under foot, tame as dogs. My fighting peons brought me word of this sudden activity of the animals, and just now I observed it for myself. It means the quick coming of a storm."

"Maldito! is it sure? Leagues from home are we and scores of women folk with us."

"To make doubly sure I rode my horse to the summit of a high bluff. The clouds are rolling hitherward in masses black and angry."

"What, think you, we would better do?"

"I'll order the peons to bring out the carretas and saddle the horses. 'Twill be a few minutes only. Then I'll call for silence and ask all to take conveyance or mount, speaking of imminent storm in such way as not to give unnecessary alarm. For myself, I'll lead my fighting peons; let come next the carretas; then marshal you the caballeros."

As said so was it done.

Soon all was in readiness, and the procession was tearing over the road by which it had come early in the day. Doña Carmelita had given her carreta to Señora Valentino, while she rode with her dueña. Provision was also made for Señora Barcelo, Mendoza declaring it unsafe for a woman to ride horseback under the circumstances.

As they sped along darkness overtook them. Intermittent lightning darted forked tongues across the sky, while thunder pealed and reverberated. The pent-up rain of months poured on the returning picnickers. In the dry creek-beds streams arose even while they were crossing.

The dueña's carreta was somewhat slower than the others and thus was last in the line. Morando rode by Carmelita's side.

Suddenly the heavens seemed to split. Torrents of water roared on the hillside, inundated the roadway, and poured over carretas and horsemen.

There had been a cloud-burst.

A heavy boulder whirling in the flood was flung against Morando's horse. As it fell caballeros close by grasped bridle-rein and stirrup-strap and drew the animal to its feet. Panic-stricken it dashed wildly forward.

The lightning ceased. The dense blackness but increased the confusion.

The carretas floundered in the water. Finally, all save one fought their way to higher ground. A projecting tree-limb had struck the dueña's postilion. His horse slipped beneath him and turned with the turbulent current. Man, horses, carreta, and occupants were washed down the declivity.

The caballeros, unknowing, struggled on.

The dueña's horses soon found footing on the hillside, and taking the bits in their teeth ran headlong down grade into the deep cañon.

When Carmelita recovered consciousness she was lying in a cave, on some bear skins, near a glowing fire of logs. She could hear horses stamping and eating. Her dueña, still unconscious, was on another pile of skins.

A man came from the darkness and stood by her. He was dressed in tanned-skin shirt and trousers, and in his hand he held a sombrero. The mustached face was burned brown in the sun.

He noticed that Carmelita had opened her eyes. "Neither of you is seriously injured. I am physician enough to determine that. Rest here quietly till morning, and doubtless your friends will come. I'll have some one prepare you a hot drink now." This he spoke in Spanish. Then in English, as he turned away: "Queerest product of a spring freshet I ever saw!"

He chuckled at his own conceit.