Their Mariposa Legend | Page 2

rose the
hoarse shouting of men. Wildenai lifted her eyes, - eyes that widened
first with wonder, then with fear. For there, far down the shoreline to
the south, her sails gleaming white against the walls of rock behind her
as she rounded a distant point, a ship came slowly into view. With
wildly beating heart the young girl watched the vessel tack to clear the
long curve of the coast. But once before in all her life had she seen such
another monster winged canoe, and that had been when Senor Don
Cabrillo first cast anchor in the Bay of Moons below, now almost a
year ago. For many a week had the young man lingered, renewing the
friendship with the Mariposa cemented more than eighteen years before
when his father, hindered by storms in his adventurous journey up the
coast, cast anchor off the shore, - the first white man to see their island.
Nor was the lingering without result. Torquam he taught to speak the
Spanish tongue, learning in his turn safer and easier routes to the gold
fields of the north, while not the least among the treasures carried with
him when at last he sailed away did he hold the promise that the
beautiful daughter of the chief should become his bride when next he
touched upon that shore. Could this, then, be the Spaniard's fleet
returning? Was the Great Spirit powerless, after all, to save her? In sore
bewilderment and terror Wildenai watched the distant ship.
Nearer and nearer it came. But, as its outline grew each moment more
distinct, gradually her fears departed. For this was not the clumsy
Spanish galleon she remembered. The prow was not nearly so high, nor
was the incoming vessel as large in any respect as had been that other.
Yet, though fear died, wonder grew. What new variety of strangers,
then, was about to visit them? For that the ship intended to anchor she
was by this time sure. Steadily it bore on until within a scant half mile
of the crescent shaped beach where lay the royal village of the tribe. At
length, as if in fear to trust themselves closer to the rocky shore, the

crew were seen to bring the vessel sharply about. An anchor was cast
over, the creaking of the hawsers distinctly audible in the clear morning
air, and a few moments later a small boat was lowered. Into this boat
immediately several sailors swung themselves and after a short delay,
amidst the shouting of the Indians, now running in wild excitement up
and down the beach, the men picked up their oars and started for the
land.
"Alla-hoa, Wildenai!"
Up the stony trail leading to her cavern scrambled an Indian runner, a
lithe youth who flung himself breathless at her feet.
"Thy father, oh princess, sends me to summon thee to his lodge.
Strangers, - paleface strangers, - enemies, who can tell, are coming. See,
- the ship!" With dark forefinger he pointed toward the sea. "Torquam
would have thee hide with the rest of the women in the cave at the
Great Rock. There Kathah-galwa wilt keep thee safe, he says. Make
haste, oh Wildenai!"
"And am I not as safe up here?" returned the princess, calmly. "Be not
so lost in thy terror, oh Norqua. I, too, have seen the ship and I fear not.
Yet will I obey if so my father bids," she added quickly. "Go thou
ahead. I follow." And hastily gathering together some reeds and colored
grasses lying on the ledge, parts of an unfinished basket upon which,
evidently, she had during some previous visit been at work, she flung
them into a corner of the cavern and ran lightly down the narrow path
leading to the village.
Here all by this time was tense excitement, the dramatic, ungoverned
excitement of children. While with shrill cries two or three of the
women gathered the little ones together, the rest pulled frantically at the
poles holding each tepee in place. Still apparently quite unmoved,
Wildenai sought first her father standing surprised but unafraid in the
doorway of his lodge. Tall and spare and stern he looked, straight as
some lonely pine on the slopes of distant San Jacinto. Yet even in the
stress of such a moment a tender light stole into his eyes as they rested
upon his motherless daughter.

Wildenai made obeisance and for a brief moment the two surveyed
each other in silence. Then,
"It is well thou art come, my beloved one," spoke the chief. "Stranger
pale-faces will soon be amongst us."
"Wildenai feels no fear, my father," quietly answered the girl.
"If they come in friendship," quickly Torquam replied, "then indeed
may all be well. But the ship is not of the Senor's