The Gold Hill News, Gold Hill, Oregon
Thursday. August 8, 1940
AROUND
>h. HOUSE
© Frani H. Spear-wan
Don Alfredo, wealthy. Spanish owner of a
Southern California rancho, refuse» to heed
several wamlnga of a raid by a band of
outlaws. Sierra Indians Ona day after he
has finally decided to seek the protection
of the nearby mission for his wife and fa m
ily, the Indians strike Dun Alfredo Is killed
and his two young daughlera are tom from
the arms of the fam ily's faithful maid.
Monica, and are carried away to the hills.
Padre Pasqual, missionary friend of the
family , arrives at the ruins of the ranch and
learns the story of the raid from Monica
After a trying and difficult trip across the
plains and mountains from Texas to C ali
fornia, youthful Henry Bowie, a Texas ad
venturer. with his friends. Ben Pardaloe
and Simmle. an Indian scout, sight the party
of Indians who have carried off the two
little girls
The three Texans attack the
war party of fifty -odd Indians and through a
clever ruse scatter the savages to the hills
The girls are saved. The group makes its
way out of the hills and meets the distraught
Monica, the children s maid. The girls are
left with Monica and the friendly Padre at
a mission, and the Texans proceed to Mon
terey
Here Bowie completes his business
for Gen. Sam Houston of Texas, who has
commissioned him to deliver an important
message Bowie decides to have a look at
the wild untamed country that California
was In the middle Nineteenth century.
Bowie disappears from California but re
turns eight years later and makes the ac
quaintance of a friendly Spanish family at
the Rancho Guadalupe.
C H A PTER VI—Continued
/
'•You must have dry clothing,"
Francisco insisted despite Bowie's
protests. “ You are my guest. I am
now what you call the boss; you
must let me be your servant. My
clothes are not big enough. But
my uncle, he is a big one, like you.
W ait."
An Indian boy was dispatched with
a message to Don Ramon. He was
soon back, bringing a coat, two
shirts, trousers, stockings and boots
for Bowie.
In vain the Texan protested. Don
Francisco had a persuasive way—he
laughed away one objection after
another with so much good-natured
banter that Bowie found himself clad
in Californian accouterments of the
head of the house, walking into the
big living room where he met the
Estradas.
Don Francisco introduced his new
acquaintance to his uncle and to
his aunt. Dona Maria.
But the uncle, Don Ramon, and
the Dona, his wife, called for partic
ular attention at the hands of their
guest. Except for the youthful neph
ew, Don Ramon Estrada was the
first real Spanish gentleman that the
Texan had met.
While there was nothing of haugh
tiness in Don Ramen, there was
something that called for considera
tion and respect. His mere pres
ence made itself felt, presenting as
it did a certain graciousness of man
ner tempered by dignity and re
serve that ptlt his guest at ease
with a mute assurance of welcome.
When Bowie had met his host and
hostess he felt already at ease, so
exquisite was the kindly welcome
expressed in their manner. But not
until he was presented by Don Fran
cisco, with due formality, to a young
lady who now entered the room was
the gaunt Texan conscious of a feel
ing of his own awkwardness and ill-
fitting apparel. She was Señorita
Carmen, of the rancho, cousin to
Don Francisco.
The young Spaniard did the in
terpreting and much of the talking.
Host and hostess extended repeated
Spanish greetings to Bowie which
Don Francisco translated.
The
young lady was wholly silent, save
that when spoken to by her cousin
she responded clearly and compos
edly.
Dinner was announced.
Dona
Maria was seated at her husband’s
right hand, and Bowie was given the
place of honor on his left. Next to
him sat Don Francisco; seated be
low Dona Maria was Señorita Car
men. As she sat opposite the Texan
she made good use of her eyes, yet
so skillfully that he was never aware
of her inspection.
Don Ramon, as the beef, mutton
and fowl in bewildering abundance
were served in formal turn, asked
many questions of his stranger guest
—questions about Texas; about the
differences of the Americans with
the Mexican government; then as
to what brought Bowie to California.
This drew only vague generaliza
tions from the Texan. The Don
switched next to what lay immedi
ately ahead; what Bowie had in
mind to do.
“ As to that, senor,” responded
Bowie frankly, ‘‘I hardly have any
plans. I find myself here on the
coast with two scout companions.
Soon we are going up the river, to
Sutter’s Fort. Our principal occu
pation in the interval must be to
find something to eat.”
Don Ramon laughed. “ Truly im
portant."
“ So we are heading upcountry aft
er game to sell in Monterey. There
is a good demand, I am told, from
the ships for venison and elk. ”
“ But with the thousands of head
of cattle everywhere available to
furnish a beef supply?” objected the
Don.
Bowie smiled as this was trans
lated. “ The beef of the range cat
tle is no competition for the meat of
the deer and the elk, certainly not
w ith the officers, nor even with the
hungry sailors.”
“ And what is your equipment for
the undertaking?”
“ Our rifles, senor.”
The amiable Don was astonished.
“ Nothing seems to appall you—your
undertaking would, of a certainty,
give me pause. And you need noth
ing?”
Bowie smiled. “ One thing we do
need."
Don Ramon lifted his eyebrows
as if pleased—at last he had found a
weak spot in the Texan’s armor.
"What is it? " he exclaimed.
"Salt,” returned Bowie simply.
“ Then allow me to be your debtor
—you shall leave here with salt for
yourselves and for your game. But
self-reliant as you are, senor, I can
lighten your labors a good bit if you
w ill allow me a further pleasure."
“ You are most kind. Don Ramon.
1 realize that we are strangers and
your advice might save us much.”
The Don shook his head. "Not ad
vice. 1 doubt if you need it. But
what I know you do need is plen
ty of horseflesh. It w ill save you
much time and some hardship if
you w ill accept a caponera from
us and leave here in the saddle—
with your salt," he added, smiling
significantly, “ in your mochilas.”
Bowie sat perplexed. “ Caponera?”
He looked inquiringly at Don Fran
cisco.
“ Horses,” explained Francisco.
"M y uncle means twenty horses,
or twenty-five.”
Bowie, despite his poise, regarded
Don Ramon incredulously. Much
talk and much translating followed.
But it was for Bowie at last to
say, as he was best able, that he
Both were beautiful.
and his scouts were grateful but
could not think of so great a draft pn
this magnificent hospitality.
In the living room, while the rain
poured furiously outside, Don Ra
mon smoked tranquilly and listened
to Bowie and his nephew. The la
dies talked about the wedding in
Monterey. In the morning it was
still raining hard — the rancho
seemed afloat. The Texan had no
choice but to accept Don Ramon’s
hospitality, and the day went in sto
ries told before the big log fire—
stories of Texans and the country
of the Staked Plain; the story of
Santa Ana and the Alamo, which
was told without any effort to water
down the cruel butchery by the Mex
icans. And interspersed were sto
ries of this new California, to which
the plainsman listened with hungry
interest. Don Francisco had already
taken a fancy to Bowie. That eve
ning he questioned the Texan with a
purpose.
Bowie, quite alert to all that went
on, noticed the glances that Fran
cisco cast at times toward Carmen,
who was in animated talk with Dona
Maria. Even the Texan’s attention
wandered at moments from Fran
cisco’s explanation to the two wom
en as they chatted. Both were beau
tiful, of a type the roughhewn Texan
had never yet seen. They were
beautiful in artless animation. Tbe
bronzed son of the desert was al
most stunned by the atmosphere of
charm. The Dona at forty had lost
none of her youth; the years had
tempered without engrossing the
portrait of her maidenhood. The vi
vacity of youth was still hers, en
riched now by the dignity of matron
ly charm. Yet Bowie’s eyes were
drawn to her daughter Carmen,
just old enough to realize the pres
ence of a stranger and protecting
her attractiveness by the slight re
pression of girlhood.
Bowie listened, indeed, to the
words of Don Ramon; but he heard
the cadences of another voice—a
voice of sweet-throated music,
strange to the ear but bewildering
in utterance. For the first time in
his life the Texan, without realizing
it, began to love the strange tongue
in which Californians spoke and to
listen for every syllable that might
fall from the lips of the young Span
ish girl. The clinging black of her
gown did not hide the tender slope
of her shoulders; it contrasted with
the ivory of her slender neck; and
above this, from a perfectly poised
head, fell soft masses of brown hair.
They framed the features of one
just at the threshold of full-bloomed
adolescence: lips filling with prom
ise of a richer maidenhood; eyes
that retired under long dark lashes
and opened with a searching light.
"You want to start tomorrow?”
Don Francisco was asking. Bowie
nodded.
“ But I have an idea,” suggested
Francisco. “ My uncle is having ma-
W NU Sa-vi e
tanza this week. He is slaughtering
surplus cattle (or the tallow. Cap
tain Davis, with whom my uncle
trades, is in port at Monterey from
China. He w ill want much tallow
for South America and Boston—it
will be a big matanza You should
see one. Much attentibn, much ex
citement, much work. Stay over a
day or two. The streams w ill then
be fordable, and you and your
scouts, in the meantime, w ill be well
entertained. Plenty of bears!"
“ Bears?” echoed Bowie.
Francisco nodded. "Dozens. They
come down from the mountains at
night after the matanza offal. Plenty
of chance for a bear fight if you like
one."
The Texan showed interest, asked
more questions, and said he would
talk to his scouts.
The next morning Bowie and his
host rode out to where the matanza
was in progress. Pardaloe and Sim-
mie were already on the scene,
watching every move of the vaque-
ros as one rode quietly into the
corral, lassoed a steer by the horns
and brought him outside.
When the rider had the beast well
placed, a second vaquero roped the
steer’s hind legs, threw him and,
with two ropes taut, tied his feet in
a bunch and, with a knife, gave him
the golpe de gracia.
What interested the Texan, sea
soned as to cattle and horses, was
the skill and speed with which the
vaqueros worked and the almost
human intelligence of their horses—
the perfection of their response to
every hint of their rider in snaring
and handling a steer. It was par
ticularly this skill of the horses that
made the work proceed rapidly with
out mishap or hitch.
For two days the work went for
ward speedily. The matanza ground
was a scene of the greatest activity.
To the Texan the spectacle of such
abundance, such profusion of waste
and such indifference to everything
but the work in hand was a source
of amazement.
A hearty lunch
served to the family at noon was
followed by a heartier dinner for
the evening, with the difference that
native wine accompanied the din
ner. This was the fam ily gathering
of the day at which the hostess and
her daughter were form ally dressed.
After the fam ily had settled about
the fire in the living room and the
conversation had shown signs of lag
ging, Don Ramon, made a request
of Carmen.
Carmen took her place at the fam
ily harp, ran her fingers over the
strings and sang a Spanish song.
The conversation and the words of
the song were lost on Bowie, but
not the clear, true notes of the g irl’s
voice.
Don Francisco explained that the
song was the appeal of a lover to the
stars to bear witness of his devotion
to his mistress. Carmen sang again,
a French chanson. It was very
slight, but it echoed in Bowie’s ears
most of the night.
It bothered Bowie, that in these
household meetings he could never
manage to catch the eye of Carmen.
He was discreet enough not to at
tempt to coax her glance his way—
and old enough to be ashamed of
himself for his curiosity. But curi
osity persisted. Toward the end of
his stay a natural resentment at the
aloofness of one who had for a week
enlisted his lively interest impelled
him to practice such retaliatory
measure as he could. The least sat
isfactory feature of his attempt to
ignore her was that this made no
apparent difference whatever tq
Carmen. I f she were aware, there
was no evidence of it—for her, he
seemed not to exist.
Don Francisco, on the other hand,
grew increasingly attached to Bow
ie. Everything about the Texan in
terested the youth. Especially was
he fascinated by the plainsman’s
novel revolver. Indeed, the whole
male population of Rancho Guada
lupe marveled at a pistol that would
shoot six bullets without recharging.
The matanza always brought down
an army of bears from the hills, and
Don Francisco, seeking excuse to
prolong the stay of the hunters,
promised them as many bear fights
as they had stomach for—black
bears, cinnamon bears and occasion
ally the famed monarch of the Si
erras, the grizzly, the highly re
spected oso pardo, as Don Francisco
called him. This prospect of ad
venture interested the two scouts.
They added their appeal to that of
Don Francisco, and Bowie — not
loath to linger near the flame of the
distant candle he had lighted for
himself—consented.
Hardly had night fallen when the
vanguard of the bears arrived from
the hills. Tempted by the rejected
meat and offal of the matanza, the
bears would come down at nightfall
for a feast. This gave the hunters,
disposed for sport, their chance.
Shortly the matanza ground was
well filled with the hairy monsters,
gorging, growling, fighting among
themselves and snapping ferociously
at those bolder coyotes who dared
trespass on the preserves of their
banqueting “ betters.”
The Texans watched. Don Ramon,
circling a chosen bear, lassoed him
by the neck; Don Francisco, watch
ing his chance, executed the more
difficult feat of roping the bear’«
hind legs; and the two horsemen,
riding then in opposite directions,
forced the bear to fight his utmost
Grip the screw top of a Jar with
to save himself. In the end he was
killed. The vaqueros made nightly
sport with the big fellows. The Tex
ans. seeing bear after bear brought
to the knife, were not greatly im
pressed.
In the mornuig Dun Ramon invit
ed Bowie for a canter over the
rancho. He particularly wanted to
see how the ruin had left the foot
bridge leading across the river to
the grain fields which stretched in
rolling acres toward the bay. Re
turning, he suggested a short cut
through the hills. The two men
were riding briskly abreast when,
crossing a canyon, they stumbled
suddenly, almost on top of a bear
ambling along on her way with two
cubs to the matanza ground.
“ M ira! Cuidadol Oso pardo,”
cried Don Ramon.
The warning was well ordered.
The bear, enraged, reared with the
swiftness of a jack-in-the-box on her
huge feet and sprang, as luck would
have it, at Don Ramon. She struck
him with a raking blow of her claw.
It caught his trouser leg. The stout
cloth, unhappily for the rider, held
and the unlucky Don found himself
torn from the saddle. In catapult
ing headfirst to the ground his foot
caught in the stirrup, and his fren
zied horse dashed down the canyon,
cragging the rider a dozen yards
before the Don could release him
self. As he kicked clear with a
mighty effort his head struck a rock,
and he sprawled on tbe canyon floor,
half conscious. The bear dashed
awkward but swiftly after the flee
ing horse and the helpless rider.
Bowie, close at hand, had barely
seconds to head his panicky mount
toward the angry beast and uncoil
his lasso. Yelling to the Don to
flee,,Bowie flung his rope at the lop
ing grizzly. It settled over her head
and Bowie, spurring sw iftly back
despite the weight and size of the
grizzly, jerked the monster around
and threw her off her feet.
Only for an instant. Rolling over,
the bear, doubly infuriated, seized
the lasso in her claw and began reel
ing Bowie and his horse hand over
Items of Interest
to the Housewife
If you have'been painting wood
a piece of emery cloth or sund- work, the best way of removing
the amcll is to leave quurters of
u large onion in the room until
they have absorbed it. Be care
One tableapoonful of sirup ful to throw awuy the onion im
sweetens as much ns two of sugar. mediately it has done its work.
• * •
• • •
Store chocolate and coroa in a
Put a basin of culd water in the
cool, dry place to prevent Impor
oven if you want to cool it down.
tant oils from deteriorating.
It reduces the heat und helps
• • •
This is an attractive way Io with the cooking.
• • «
serve onions. Peel and slice six
large onions crosswise. Separate
Wooden spoons are desirable for
the rings and use only the larger cundy-muking because they do
ones, while saving the rest fur not become uneomfortably hot to
other use. Cover the selected rings bundle.
i with m ilk and soak one hour. Then
• a *
dredge the onion rings with (lour
You can bring up the shine on
seasoned with suit and pepper and
fry in deep fat for two minutes. highly enamelled surfaces, if they
Drain on soft paper to remove any ure dulled after cleaning, by rub
bing with a soft chutnois leather.
excess grease.
and you w ill soon huve it
oosened.
f iaper,
• • •
«
A R EA L
HOT-
WEATHER
TREAT!
Cop» IP40 b r Kellnsa Cnmpaar
M A P I BT
R lltO ««'* IN
B A TTÌI CBIIK
Switch to som ething
y o u ’ll like!
Corrupted In Time
so sure established, which in con
There was never anything by tinuance of time hath not been
the w it of man so well demised, or corrupted.—Archbishop Crammer.
<
TEMPTING
HEALTH AIDS!
But in that instant the bear
charged him.
hand toward her. The Texan per
ceived his peril. His horse strove
vainly to pit his strength against the
strength of his enormous enemy. It
was a hopeless endeavor. Relent
lessly the bear dragged horse and
rider toward him. Luckily a sizable
tree stood near. With shout and
spur Bowie, plunging forward,
whirled the horse and managed to
circle the tree before the bear could
take up all the slack. I t gave the
Texan an instant of respite, and
he dismounted. But in that instant
the bear charged him.
The tree between the two was of
little consequence, as the hunted
man was aware, and the grizzly’s
leap was far beyond the nimblest
feat of a runner. Taking what was at
best a merely desperate chance,
Bowie, as he jumped, fired shot aft
er shot into the bear’s mouth and
head. Then he dropped the empty
revolver, whipped out his knife and,
waiting not a second, plunged di
rectly into the bear’s arms for what
was likely to prove a fatal em
brace. Only one of the two, he knew
could come out alive.
The foreman Pedro was riding
away from the corral when he saw
Don Ramon's riderless horse racing
out of the hills. The half-breed real
ized at once there was trouble.
Shouting to near-by vaqueros to fol
low, he spurred for the hills. Be
fore he reached them Bowie’s horse,
dragging the broken rope, shot out
of the canyon and gave him the di
rection. At the same moment he
heard pistol shots echoing down the
canyon walls. Urging his compan
ions who were stringing along be
hind to follow fast, Pedro galloped
into the canyon.
,
His practiced eye told him the
story as he rode. Whatever it had
been, it was over, for the canyon
was as still as the grave. On he
galloped until, rounding a bend, he
saw the bodies of the grizzly and
the Texan lying less than ten yards
apart, both apparently dead.
(T O BE CO N TINUED )
»
Orange* give you rafredimant
— plu» vitamin* you need!
N othing elle i l *0 deliciou* and
ic g ttd for you s* orange»!
w
They give you vitamin* and
mineral* needed for the best o f
health. Fully half our familiea get
lot Unit o f the*« essential*, say*
the Department o f Agriculturel
So make orangtt your family’*
summer refrethment. Peel and
eat them. Keep a big pitcher of
fresh orangeade handy. Or bet
ter yet—
Have 8-ounce glasses o f freah
orange juice for breakfast daily.
This gives you a ll the vitamin C
you normally need each day. Add*
vitamiiu A , B i, and G and min
erals calcium, pbtipbtnu and iron.
«
Sunkist it sending you the pick
o f California's wonderfully juicy
oranges. Buy a supply next time
you shop.
u n k is t
C A L IF O R N IA
ORANGES
B e s t lo r h iic c - a u f / c re v a h a p
«