LEAVING THE MISSION
BUMPTY-BUMP went the ox-cart as it rolled along on the wheels that had not been smoothed off perfectly round.
Creakity-creak went the dry axles, saying as plainly as they could, “We want some more soap-suds. We want some more soap-suds.”
Wobblety-jerk went the head of a small Indian girl who sat in the cart on some skin sacks filled with grain. With her were an old man and a boy a little older than herself. Finally her head gave an extra big jerk and hit against one of the posts at the side.
“Just like a girl to fall asleep and then bump her head,” said the boy. He straightened himself up and drew an old woollen cloth around his shoulders in imitation of the cloak worn by a Spanish gentleman who passed them on horseback just then.
The Spanish gentleman was Don Secundini Robles, who for years had been superintendent of the Santa Clara Mission. The old man in the cart was Docas, and the boy and girl were hisgrandchildren. Their parents were Oshda and his wife Putsha. The girl’s name was Yappa, and the boy’s was Shecol. Don Secundini had bought a large ranch about sixteen miles north of the Mission and was going there to live. Docas and his family were going to live with him and be his servants.
“I’m so tired riding in this old ox-cart,” said Yappa at last.
“You would be more tired if you had to walk all the way, as I did sixty years ago when we went to the Mission to live,” said Docas.
“Why didn’t you ride?” asked Yappa.
“We had never seen an ox-cart then,” answered Docas.
“Tell us about the time when you were young, grandpa,” said Shecol.
So Docas began and told them stories about the life at the old rancheria, and the fight with the Indians from the other rancheria. He told how they were saved by Father Pena from torture and how they went to live at the Mission. Then, he told them about the building of the big church, about the planting of the grainfields and orchards, about the thousands and thousands of cattle and horses that belonged to the Mission, and about the hundreds of Indians who lived under the care of the good Fathers. “Our Mission is not now what it used to be,” said Docas, sadly.
With her were an old man and a little boyWith her were an old man and a little boy.
With her were an old man and a little boy.
With her were an old man and a little boy.
“What happened to the Mission?” Yappa asked.
“The Mexican government took away the lands and then the Indians left. Some have gone back to live at the old rancherias, and some, like ourselves, are going to live with rich Spaniards,” answered Docas.
Just then the cart stopped, and they all got out at their new home.
“Aren’t you glad the house is not built yet?” Shecol asked Yappa. “We shall have to camp out all the summer and we can play we are wild Indians again.”
So the children trapped fish and gathered acorns for bread just as their grandfather told them he used to do. Docas was too old to work much, but their father and older brother, Occano, helped Don Secundini build the big adobe house near which Docas was to spend the rest of his life.