LITMIR.BIZ

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January 16, 1847, defeated and despairing of the future of his race, war-worn Miguel Peralta, Commandante no longer, with a few followers rides over the Tehachape. He descends the San Joaquin to his imperilled domain.

      With useless valor he has thrown himself into the fire of the Americans at the battles near Los Angeles, but death will not come to him. He must live to be one of the last Dons. The defeats of Mexico sadden and embitter him. General Scott is fighting up to the old palaces of the Montezumas with his ever victorious army.

      In these stormy winter days, when the sheeted rain drives down from the pine-clad Sierras, Donna Juanita day by day turns her passive face in mute inquiry to the padre. She has the sense of a new burden to bear. Her narrow nature contracts yet a little with a sense of wounded native pride.

      In all her wedded years her martial lord has always returned in victory. Fandango and feast, "baile" and rejoicings, have made the woodland echoes ring.

      The growing Dolores mopes in the lonely mansion. She demands her absent father daily.

      Before the troopers of Lagunitas return with their humbled chieftain, a squad of mounted American volunteers ride up and take possession. For the first time in its history the foreigner is master here, Though personally unknown to these mixed revolutionists, Maxime Valois is free to go in safety.

      While he makes acquaintance with his fellow "patriots," the advance riders of Don Miguel announce his home-coming. It is a sad day when the Commandante dismounts at his own door. There is a sentinel there. He lives to be only a sullen, brooding protest in the face of an accidental progress.

      Standing on his porch he can see the "mozos," under requisition, gathering up his choicest horses by the fifties. They are destined for the necessary remount of the victors.

      After greeting his patient helpmeet, henceforth to be the partner of his sorrows, he sends for the padre and his major-domo. He takes on himself the only dignity left to his defeated pride, practical self-isolation.

      He bears in his bosom this rankling thorn—the hated Fremont he rode out to bring in a captive, is now "His Excellency John C. Fremont," the first American governor of California.

      With his flocks and herds scattered, his cattle and horses under heavy requisition, his cup is full. He moodily curses the Gringo, and wishes that the rifle-ball which wounded him at San Gabriel had reached the core of his proud old heart.

      From all sides come fugitives with news of the Americanization of the towns. The inland communities are reorganized. His only friend is the Padre, to whose patient ear he confides the story of the hopeless campaign. With prophetic pessimism he sees the downfall of the native families.

      Three months have made Larkin, Redding, Ide, Sutter, Semple, Merritt, Bidwell, Leese, and Lassen the leading men of the day. The victorious military and naval chiefs, Sloat, Stockton, Montgomery, Fremont, Kearney, Halleck, and Gillespie are now men of history. All the functions of government are in the hands of American army or navy officers. The fall of the beloved Mexican banner is as light and unmarked as the descent of the drifting pine-needles torn from the swaying branches of the storm-swept forest kings around him.

      His settled gloom casts a shadow over Lagunitas. The padre has lost his scholars. The converts of the dull Indian tribes have fled to the hills, leaving the major-domo helpless. All is in domestic anarchy. At last the volunteers are leaving.

      When the detachment is ready to depart, Maxime Valois is puzzled. The Mexican War raging, prevents his homeward voyage as planned. It will be months before the war vessels will sail. If allowed to embark on them, he will be left, after doubling Cape Horn, a stranger in the north, penniless. Why not stay?

      Yet the shelter of Lagunitas is his no more. The maddened Don will not see an American on the bare lands left to him. His herds and flocks are levied on to feed the troops.

      Many an hour does the youth confer with Fran‡ois Ribaut. The priest is dependent on his patron. The Church fabric is swept away, for Church and state went down together. With only one friend in the State, Valois must now quit his place of enforced idleness.

      The meagre news tells him the Fremont party is scattered. He has no claims on the American Government. But Fremont has blossomed into a governor. He will seek him. Happily, while Maxime Valois deliberates, the question decides itself. He is offered the hospitality of an escort back to Santa Clara, from whence he can reach Monterey, San Francisco, or Los Angeles. In the new State no present avenues are open to a castaway. His education is practically useless. He is forced to consider the question of existence. The utmost Padre Francisco can do is to provide him horse and gear. A few Mexican dollars for the road are not lacking. The lot of fate is drawn for him by necessity. For the present he must be a Californian. He cannot leave until the future provides the means.

      When the vigil of the departure comes, the young man is loath to leave his friend. In their companionship they have grown dear to each other.

      The camp of the volunteers is ready for the next day's march. At their last dinner, the simple cheer of the native wine and a few cigaritos is all the padre can display.

      "Maxime, listen. You are young and talented," the padre begins. "I see a great community growing up here, This is a land of promise. The termination of the war ends all tumult. Your fleet holds the coast. Mexico seems to be under the talons of your eagle. Your nation is aggressive. It is of high mechanical skill. Your people will pour into this land and build here a great empire. Your busy Yankees will never be satisfied with the skeleton wealth of a pastoral life. They will dig, hew, and build. These bays and rivers will be studded with cities. Go, my dear friend, to Yerba Buena. I will give you letters to the fathers of the Mission Dolores. Heaven will direct you after you arrive. You can communicate with me through them. I shall remain here as long as my charge continues. If driven out, I shall trust God to safely guide me to France. When I am worn out, I shall die in peace under the shadows of Notre Dame."

      At the hour of mass Maxime kneels to receive the blessing of the Church.

      The volunteers are in the saddle. It is the man, not the priest, who embraces the freed "pathfinder." Valois' eyes are dim with tears as he waves the adieu to the missionary. Not a word does Don Miguel vouchsafe to the departing squad. The aversion of the dwellers in Lagunitas is as great as their chief's.

      Maxime joins the escort on the trail. Runaway sailors, voyageurs, stray adventurers are they—queer flotsam on the sea of human life. He learns from them the current stories of the day. He can trace in the mysterious verbal "order to return," and that never-produced "packet" given to Fremont by Gillespie, a guiding influence from afar. The appearance of the strong fleet and the hostilities of Captain Fremont are mysteriously connected. Was it from Washington these wonders were worked? As they march, unopposed, over the alamedas of San Joaquin, bearing toward the Coast Range, they pass under overhanging Mount Diablo. The Louisianian marvels at the sudden change of so many peaceful explorers into conquering invaders. Valois suspects Senator Benton of intrigues toward western conquest. He knows not that somewhere, diplomatically lost between President Polk and Secretaries Buchanan, Marcy, and Bancroft, is the true story of this seizure of California. Gillespie's orders were far in advance of any Mexican hostilities. The fleet and all the actions of the State, War, and Navy departments prove that some one in high place knew the Pacific Coast would be subdued and held.

      Was it for slavery's added domains these glorious lands were destined?

      Maxime is only a pawn in that great game of which the annexation of Texas, the Mexican War, and California conquest are moves.

      Wise, subtle, far-seeing, and not over-scrupulous, the leaders of southern sentiment, with prophetic alarm, were seeking to neutralize free-State extension in the Northwest. They wished to link the warmer climes, newly acquired, to the Union by negro chains. Joying in his freedom, eager to meet the newer phases of Californian life under the stars and stripes, Valois rides along. Restored in health, and with the light heart and high hopes of twenty, he threads the beautiful mountain passes; for the first time he sees the royal features of San Francisco Bay, locked by the Golden Gates.

      Конец

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