text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/188

 wood of toughness and grain suitable for the swingle and shaft of a flail. The two parts of the simple instrument he connected with a rawhide thong. Now he was on his way, the flail in his hand, Padre Ignacio at his side, to give a demonstration of the flail in the field where the threshers were at work, there being no grain in the sheaf elsewhere on the mission estates.

Cristóbal accompanied them, carrying a thick canvas to spread for a threshing floor. Juan explained that results would not be as satisfactory under these conditions as on a firm barn floor of planks, but he hoped to convince Padre Ignacio of the superior economy in this mode.

"No, it is not a new thing, Padre Ignacio," Juan admitted. "The German and English people have used the flail for threshing ever since they grew grain. But they are people who do not shun hard work when it will bring them better bread."

"Ah, we are indolent people, we Castilians, except in the conquest of worlds," Padre Ignacio returned. Gentle and just as he was, he could not suppress the pride and irony that leveled all men's achievements to dust in comparison with the race from which he sprung.

Work in the threshing pen was suspended while Juan illustrated the use of the implement he had made. In that day the use of the flail was a part of every American farmer's craft; Juan had been notable with it as a stripling, when he once took the championship away from a whiskered giant famous


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/189

 over three counties for his fourteen hundred weight of grain a day. The Indians pressed in silent interest to watch him, while the chaff flew in a cloud beneath his dextrous strokes.

In a little while Juan had threshed half a hundred weight of grain. He scooped a double handful and lifted it to Padre Ignacio's inspection, letting it rain down between his fingers and winnow in the wind. Padre Ignacio said nothing. He bent and ran his hand through the little heap of clean whole grain, sifting it through his fingers as if not ready to accept the evidence until he had satisfied himself there was no trick about it.

Juan scooped his hand full of the grain from the threshing floor where the oxen had trampled, and offered it in comparison.

"It is cleaner, there are not so many broken kernels," Padre Ignacio admitted. "But see how you sweat, Juan. It is a labor to thresh grain with your machine."

Juan could see in the faces of the Indians the same thought, the same objection. This was not like the mill, there was nothing marvelous in beating out grain with a jointed stick. He had not come to them with a labor-saving implement, but a man-consuming device, as the oldest and the dullest Indian alike could see.

"How much is threshed in one of these trampling-pens in a day?" Juan asked.

Padre Ignacio repeated the question to the Indian foreman.

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/190

 "Who knows?" the man replied, "I keep the young men at work, I see that the oxen are changed when one falls. Maybe the men who measure the wheat can tell."

Here was a divided, a vague, opinion. One thought it might be a hundred quintales, another scoffed this, putting his estimate at fifty.

"Call it seventy-five quintales, although I don't believe it can be done," said Juan. "It must be winnowed, it must be run through sieves, even the little stones must be picked out of it by hand, before it can go to the mill. Look at this wheat I have threshed, Padre Ignacio; clean enough as it is to go into the hopper, except for this chaff, which a breath will blow away."

"I fear the method is too slow, although superior in other respects, I will admit. At the end of harvest, Juan, we have nine or ten of these threshing-places going every day; we make short work of it. But with this little stick—who can tell?"

"An ordinary man can thresh six or seven quintales in a day, Padre Ignacio. Put fifty at work"

"Don Geronimo!" Cristóbal warned, touching Juan's arm.

Don Geronimo had approached unseen until that moment by any of the interested spectators. With his arrival there was a general scurrying back to their duty among the Indians, who cringed as they ran in expectation of the bite of Don Geronimo's whip. The mayordomo reined up at the edge of


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/191

 the spread canvas, his face dark with displeasure.

"What is this diversion? Why are these men standing idle?" he demanded of Padre Ignacio.

"The day is long enough, Don Geronimo; we can spare them a few minutes from their tasks," Padre Ignacio replied, his manner gently corrective, gently resentful of the harsh challenge of authority in that place.

"Yes, if you priests were left to conduct the business of this mission everybody soon would starve," Don Geronimo declared, scornfully as a man ever spoke.

"It is well we have a zealous guardian of our fields, Don Geronimo," Padre Ignacio confessed, contrite as if he was the aggressor, indeed. He looked up at the mayordomo, a smile illuminating his sad old weathered face.

Juan felt a great tenderness for this gentle old man, a strong desire to stand in his defense against the arrogant overriding and assumption of authority by Don Geronimo. He understood fully that the mayordomo held his appointment from the president of all the missions, but it was also true that all authority at San Fernando was in Padre Ignacio's hands. A word from him should have been sufficient to put Don Geronimo in his place, but more and more Juan was aware of the mayordomo's trespass on this authority, his open and contemptuous stealing of the good-hearted old padre's power.

It seemed that the aggressiveness had burned out


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/192

 of Padre Ignacio in all the years he had been tramping the long road between San Diego and Monterey before coming to his rest at San Fernando, where the little river came down out of the hills. There was only gentleness left in his breast, and the missions were not built by gentleness, nor regard for the labors and sufferings of impressed savages, while it was plain that Padre Ignacio put this first in all his thoughts of men. He stood there, the slant sun of evening on his face, one bony brown hand closed on the wheat he had taken from Juan's threshing, the other lifted in what seemed an appeal, rather than a command, for peace. The sleeve of his coarse rough gown had fallen to the bend of his arm, which was sinewy and brown from his labor among his beloved vines.

"Juan has been giving us an exemplification of a tool, an ancient weapon applied by the men of many nations to the arts of peace. You see, Don Geronimo, the grain he has beaten out with a few deft strokes—he was not half an hour about it, I am certain. The advantages of this mode are apparent to me; I see more and more in favor of it as I reflect and consider."

"We can have no more of this change and innovation at San Fernando," Don Geronimo said. "This meddling with the old, time-established order is demoralizing; it advances nothing but discontent and laziness."

"It cannot be said of the flail, then, Don Geronimo, that it would encourage a lazy disposition in


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/193

 any man," Padre Ignacio returned, in smiling good humor. "Look at Juan, see how the sweat pours out of him from threshing this little heap of wheat. A man would earn his salt at a day's work with the flail, you may be certain."

"I cannot permit this interference in my fields, this distraction among my workmen," Don Geronimo said sharply.

"Don Geronimo!" Padre Ignacio chided.

Juan was standing by, his jacket thrown aside, his shirt wet on his muscular back, the flail in his hand. He was far more resentful of Don Geronimo's insolent declaration of authority than Padre Ignacio, whom the mayordomo made so bold as to push aside as a man of no consequence in the affairs and administration of the Mission San Fernando.

"Let this spy of a despicable, upstart nation keep to the mill in future. I tell you, Padre Ignacio, I will have no more of his interference and silly contrivances."

"It will be enough, Don Geronimo," Padre Ignacio said sternly, the gentleness of his face yielding to an expression of dignified command. "Where this son of San Fernando chooses to walk within our limits, there he shall walk without the interference of any man."

"A weak prejudice for him, growing in your heart for his supposed services to you, blinds your eyes to his true guise." Don Geronimo charged. He leaned toward Padre Ignacio as he spoke, his


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/194

 face flushed with the rising of his anger, little thinking that Juan had the intelligence to understand nearly all that he said.

"He has done us great service, Don Geronimo; simple gratitude is but poor payment for what he has given us."

"Padre Ignacio, I tell you the man is a spy, sent here by his government to learn how the soil is cultivated, how we make raisins, dry our figs, how the seasons come and go, and all the secrets necessary to the ten thousand of his kind that stand ready to flock here and overrun us like locusts."

"That is a lie in the mouth of a liar!" Juan stepped forward to hurl the charge into Don Geronimo's face like a stone.

Don Geronimo lifted himself in his stirrups, face distorted by the sweep of his sudden passion. Padre Ignacio anticipated his intention, and leaped with incredible swiftness under the fiercely flung lash. The scornful, hate-driven blow of the mayordomo's whip fell sharply across the priest's shoulders, only the lash of it stinging Juan's arm.

So the gentle old man stood between them, his arms spread to keep them apart. Cristóbal, hurt deeper than Padre Ignacio by the indignity of the blow, cried out sharply and sprang forward, as if to tear Don Geronimo from his horse. Juan Molinero swung his flail, unheeding of the priest's clutching, frantic hand upon his arm, and struck Don Geronimo from the saddle with a sweeping, terrible blow.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/195

 Cristóbal's shout of triumph rang over the dusty field, where the workmen flung down their tools as if liberty had come to them with that swift blow, and came running to witness the overthrow of the tyrant who had driven them with pitiless hand.

Don Geronimo's horse sprang away as its master fell, the stirrups flinging high as it galloped to the gate. Don Geronimo lay on his back, his black whip on its thong about his wrist, its long lash trailing across his breast. Blood ran into his beard from a great gash that opened from cheek-bone to forehead across his temple. Dust was grey on his face; beneath it a pallor that seemed the bloodless seal of death.

Padre Ignacio was on his knees beside the mayordomo, one hand on his heart, one on his lips, searching out the spark of life. Juan came and stood over the prostrate man, neither contrition nor anger in his honest brown face, but rather the look of a man who is satisfied with his day's work, and would not mend it if it lay within his power. He stooped and lifted Don Geronimo's hand, his finger seeking the beat of the artery under the thong that held the whip.

"He is not dead, by a long shot, Padre Ignacio," he said.

"Thank God!" Padre Ignacio breathed in relief. "Bring a cart, Cristóbal—that one just emptied of sheaves." He turned to Juan, his face sadder than Juan had ever seen it, yet something inexorably hard and accusing in his eyes.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/196

 "Juan Molinero, you have done a terrible deed!" he said.

"It was for the blow you took, Padre Ignacio."

"I would have borne it, Juan, in forgiveness."

"He can't strike a white man with his whip! he's no lord of creation."

"You have struck down authority before the eyes of those who must bend and subjugate themselves to it. No man can see the evil fruit of this woeful stroke, let Don Geronimo live or die. I took the blow that was intended for you, Juan, from Don Geronimo's hand, but I cannot assume the consequences that your vengeful anger must bring upon your head."

"My back is broad, Padre Ignacio; I can carry it."

The cattle were standing again in the threshingpen, the pitchforks, sieves and measures were dropped, while the Indians crowded to look at Don Geronimo, blood mingling with the dust on his beard. There was excitement in the faces of even the most stolid; eagerness gleamed in all their eyes. They pressed round the spot where Don Geronimo lay, their bare feet noiseless in the dust of the trodden field, short, ejaculatory words passing under their breath from man to man. Cristóbal came with the cart; they parted to let him pass.

"Gently with him!" Padre Ignacio cautioned, for there was neither gentleness nor pity in the hands that clutched Don Geronimo to lift him into the cart. "Here, put this unlucky instrument of,


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/197

 yours in the cart with him, Juan; I will take charge of it henceforward. I fear it will be many a long day before we quit the old method of threshing our grain at the Mission San Fernando. Forward, Cristóbal; hasten with him to his door."

Cristóbal took up the goad, a gleam of pleasure in his quick eyes, a look of triumph in his dark handsome face. He threw his head back, shaking his long hair from his brow, whistled to the oxen, his goad poised to strike. The mellow, vibrant note of a bell sounded over the fields, three measured strokes. All heads bent, all hands fluttered over breasts, all lips moved in the brief words of a prayer.

"Forward, then," said Padre Ignacio, as the bell began again, quick and joyous in its tolling, the evening signal calling the laborers home from the fields.

In that way Don Geronimo went home with his bleeding face, his feet at the cart's end like the feet of a dead man going to his grave. And so the neophytes followed him, their bare heads lifted in the sense of a new freedom. The sound of the evening bell went rolling over the fields, now dimming as the wind bent it seaward, now welling as there came a lull. There was a purple on the hills like the mist of wine.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/198

FTER vespers the Indians were merry that evening over their green corn and beef, Don Geronimo's abasement the motive of their delight. Each family group gathered around the big vessel which held their supper filled from the common kettles, in the back yards of the cabins—for the padres began early to instill the patio usage, the Spanish love of seclusion, in their wards—talked of the noble deed Juan Molinero had done. They raised him in their praise as they humiliated Don Geronimo. And now Don Geronimo was dead, they's aid. Don Juan was to be mayordomo. They should have justice; they should feel the cut of the cruel black whip no more.

There was little serious thought, then or at any time, of rising against the beneficent authority of the padres, although trouble makers who expected to profit out of the Indians' exploitation had been at work several years among the younger men. It was not against the padres that the resentment of the neophytes rose, but against the machinery which the padres employed.

There never were more than two priests at one time stationed at a single mission; spiritual super-


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/199

 vision was the work with which they were most earnestly employed. Soldiers always had been at the various missions, or stationed within easy call, to enforce the discipline of those who directed the labors in the fields. The Indians were not willing toilers in the upbuilding of these vast mud palaces, these high-walled, stolid, frowning, gloomy churches, yet never since the remote days of the beginning at San Diego de Acalá, when they killed two of the pioneer padres, had they lifted their hands against the priests.

There was beginning to be much talk of liberty among the young men, it is true, words put into their mouths by crafty rascals who would have changed the Indians' pastoral security under mission rule to the debauched state of wage slavery which they finally accomplished, to the wreckage and almost extinction of this simple people within a generation. Tonight this talk of liberty was bolder and more outspoken than ever before. The young men gathered in the trampled little streets, talking of working as freemen among the ranchers, gaining money and horses, flocks, herds, homes of their own, instead of bending their labors to the padres' comfort and enrichment with no promise of future change.

Let the old ones, and the timid ones, remain at the mission, they said. Now that Don Geronimo was down, it was time for the young ones to go. Against this urging there were far-seeing ones who revealed the white men's purpose in alienating them


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/200

 from the padres' lands. Cristóbal was one of them, fiery as he was at heart, resentful of the cruelty and imposition of his condition. For a few strong ones who could withstand the temptation of the white men's brandy, liberty would be desirable, "he said. But for such as understood liberty as a state where a man was free to own a horse, ride where he liked and drink brandy when he had earned the money to buy it, the mission, even under Don Geronimo, was a better place.

But Don Geronimo was dead, the others replied; they had seen him lying in the cart, his knees stiff, blood on his beard. A worse man might come in his place. No, said the old men, Don Juan of the mill was to be mayordomo now; they had seen an understanding pass between him and Padre Ignacio. Don Juan was gentle and just; there would be no weighing of meat when he came to be mayordomo, but every man should have as much as he desired.

Excitement grew on them as they gathered before their doors in the white moonlight and talked. There seemed to be a new freedom in every movement, in every breath, now that Don Geronimo was down. The feeling that the task-master watched and listened, the restraint of his cold presence over every fiesta, every marriage, every occasion when men should laugh and fling the feet free of the thought of toil; all this restraint was dissolved, broken like bonds of glass by Don Juan's courageous blow. Laughter rose lightly on the night wind. The young men brought their fiddles and


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/201

 guitars; in the little square where the tall cross lifted the pale figure of Our Señor, they danced with the girls, the old ones sitting by with nods and smiles and low words, in the comfortable relaxation that comes after long watching, and hardship, and pain.

Padre Ignacio at that hour was pacing in troubled meditation the length of his vast empty room where the great hewn cedar beam crossed from east to west. The light of his candle was dim among the rafters, peaked high over his head; the shadow of the cross-beam threw half the chamber in gloom.

Padre Ignacio marched up and down the room, his sandals scuffing in a little soft sound of attrition on the dim red tiling of the floor. His hands were at his back, his head was bent. Between the north window, looking out on the Indian village beyond the church, and the cedar beam his course lay. At the beam he turned toward the east window, his shoulder close against the wood, brown as his own skin; at the east window he turned again to the north, following the triangle marked in the tiling by his tramping through many years.

Close by the north window his little table, with his few precious books upon it, stood, convenient for the light of tired eyes. This was a low window, where one must bend the back to see the hills. It was crossed by iron bars beaten at the mission forge. Under the east window, on the farthest side of the cedar beam, Padre Ignacio's narrow bed was placed. This couch, a rawhide stretched on a crude frame, stood where the first gleam of dawn


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/202

 would strike the sleeper's face, calling him to the endless duties of the day. Near it was a small altar, and a chair with rawhide seat. A similar chair stood beside the table with the books and inkstand. The room, spacious enough to contain a king's furnishings, held nothing more. There was not even a peg holding Padre Ignacio's extra gown. It was a question, indeed, if he commanded so much luxury.

The sound of the music and happy voices mounted in through the open window and broke upon Padre Ignacio's meditations. At first he heard with nothing more than a subconscious realization, as one is aware of the insect chorus of a summer night. Then it welled until it became insistent, clamorous on the ear for attention. Padre Ignacio paused in his tramping to lean at the window and listen.

"This is strange!" he muttered, hearing laughter rise unrestrained as the music ceased. "They are dancing, when it is neither a fiesta nor the eve of a fiesta, without permission asked or given."

Padre Ignacio was deeply troubled and disturbed by this loud evidence of independent thought and action in his neophytes. It was the first time in his mission experience of thirty years and more that such a demonstration had occurred. It was the young ones, he reflected with sorrow, the grandsons of the savages who had come at the first tolling of the bells to subject themselves to the padres' God. Reverence was dying out of them, he feared;


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/203

 this world revolution of liberty which had shaken America and France, had blown to the mission Indians like the seed of some evil disease. Liberty was admirable for those who could enlarge their happiness and morality under it, Padre Ignacio confessed; liberty for the mission neophytes would lead only to relapse and destruction. It would be fire in an infant's hand.

These thoughts moved Padre Ignacio to go at once and remonstrate with his foolish children, censure them sternly and send them to bed, where they should have been that moment instead of laughing and capering in the moonlight, dissipating the strength needed for tomorrow's toil. All of this grew out of Don Geronimo's haughty disdain of Juan Molinero, and the sadly unfortunate blow with the flail, Poor Juan had struck in the flash of his foolish anger, not knowing that it was the penance of a priest to bear lashes for other men.

Juan was standing in the court, looking at the moon, disconsolate, Padre Ignacio thought, as a lonesome dog. The kitchen door was closed, the ready word of Dota Magdalena lacking to cheer the night. Save for Juan, the court was empty. The jet of the fountain sparkled in the strong moonlight; the scent of rose and lemon bloom was sweet.

"Come with me, Juan, and see the result of this day's work with your four-times-unlucky flail," Padre Ignacio said.

Juan was not troubled over that day's work with his flail to any uneasy length. His one regret was


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/204

 that it might alienate the friendship of Doña Magdalena. For Don Geronimo he had no care, whether he lived or died.

Padre Ignacio said nothing more as they walked down the long arcade joining mission building and church. The broad trampled road to the Indian village crossed under this arcade a little way before coming to the church, at the point where the tallow cauldrons were, and the great underground vat for holding the grease rendered from the waste portions of butchered animals and those that died in the fields. The top of this tank extended above ground a few feet, like a sunken tower. It contained tons of tallow, waiting the ships from Spain that were so long in coming.

Padre Ignacio touched Juan's arm and stopped him in the shadow of a little adobe hut at the corner of the village plaza where the tall cross lifted a crude figure of a crucified man. The bleached grass and straw thatch of the crowded huts seemed frosted in the moonlight; the blocked shadows were as little squares of velvet spread before the doors. The plaza was not much larger than Padre Ignacio's room. It was packed with the village inhabitants, young and old. Those who were not taking their turn at dancing sat on the brick-hard ground, which was as clean of dust as Doña Magdalena's kitchen floor.

"You see how they mock discipline, Juan," Padre Ignacio stretched out his hand with the slow, revealing, accusing gesture of a man who unveils to


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/205

 another the result of his wilfulness. "They have seen authority struck down; they are following the example set before their eyes."

"They seem to be having a good time," Juan said, still not struck by any contrite pang.

"It is not authorized, they did not ask permission to play fiesta this night," Padre Ignacio said, his voice, shocked, injured, the disappointment bitter for him to bear.

"Must they ask permission to laugh and sing?" Juan inquired, unable to see where anybody had room for injury in the innocent scene before their eyes.

"This is permitted only on days of fiesta, when it is proclaimed."

"It is a hard matter to be happy by proclamation, I am afraid. They get the good out of it when it's spontaneous, when they do it because they feel like dancing and singing. I know I wouldn't like for anybody to point a pistol at my head and tell me to sing, padre."

"The sad thing is this, Juan Molinero: the hand that was over them has been removed for the hour; they poach upon that authority like thieves. Perhaps tomorrow, when it comes time to go to the fields, they will stand with idle hands. That is the sad thing, to think they may fail us, now Don Geronimo is down."

"A man's loyalty cannot be won with a whip, Padre Ignacio."

"I have been gentle with them always, even


text:
Page:1922 Bretz Notebook.pdf/1

SPOKANE QUADRANGLE|PANTOPS STA. ON INLAND EMPIRE ELECTRIC RR. AUG 1 19220 ON HILLTOP 1/4 MI EAST OF RR. GNEISSAC GRANITE, SCHISTOSITY DIPPING 35° TO SE, STRIKE N40-45°W. MAJOR JOINTS ARE NEARLY VERTICAL AND STRIKE N 10-12W PEGMATITE VEINS AND DIKES CUT THE GRANITE.

NORTH OF STATION ON WEST OF TRACK IS LARGE GRAVEL PIT EXCAVATED BY THE RR. GRAVEL IS FRESH, DARK GRAY IN CODOR, CURRENT-BEDDED WITH DIP TO SOUTHWARD. DEPTH EXPOSED IS ABOUT 30 FT. SCATTERED THRU THE STREAM GRAVEL ARE HUGE BLORS CHIEFLY OF GRANITE, AVERAGING 2-3 FEET DIAMETER. BLDRS SUBANGULAR. GRANITE OF LOCAL KIND, PEGMATITE IN SCHISTOSE.

THIS GRAVEL ACCUMULATION LOOKS FROM ITS TOPOGRAPHY AND ITS SITUATION WITH REFERENCE TO BOUNDING ROCK HILLS ON EAST AND WEST AND THE OPEN VALLEY TO THE SOUTH AS THO IT WERE DEPOSITED AS AN OUTWASH FAN AT THE EDGE OF THE ICE, THE ESCAPING WATER FLOWING SOUTHWARD. IT SLOPES OFF WITH A FAIRLY STEEP FRONT FOR AN ALLUVIAL FAN TO A NEARLY FLAT FLOOR JUST SOUTH OF PANTOPS STA. RANCHES ON THIS VALLEY FLOOR HAVE WELLS 120 FT TO WATER; DUG WELLS. THESE MUST BE IN THE SAME FLUVIOGLACIAL DEPOSIT BUT ON THE FLATTER SLOPES FARTHER FROM APEX OF THE FAN. BASALT HILLS TO THE WEST. LOOKS LIKE COLUMBIA LAVA IN EVERY RESPECT. HAS THE MOUNDS ON IT A PIT ABOUT A MILE N OF PANTOPS ON NORTHWARD SLOPE OF THE BASALT MESA HERE, SHOWS THE SAME THING AS AT PANTOPS. ALTITUDE IS ABOUT 25 FT HIGHER THAN THE PANTOPS DEPOSIT. MUCH BASALT IN THE COBBLES HERE, LITTLE AT PANTOPS. BOTH HAVE SOUTHWARD DIP OF CURRENT BEDS BUT IN THIS SECOND LOCALITY THE BEDS APPEAR TO DIP RIGHT AGAINST THE FLANK OF THE BASALT HILL.

ON THE BASALT MESA, THREE GRANITE BLDRS AT 50 FT ABOVE PANTOPS ALTITUDE. THE BIG ANBULAR OR SUBANGULAR BLORS IN THE PANTOPS PIT SHOW CONSIDERABLE DECOMPOSITION ON THE LESS-RUBBED SURFACE. THE GRAVEL IN WHICH THEY ARE EMBEDDED IS FRESH. IT IS OBVIOUSLY THAT THESE BLORS WERE DERIVED VERY LOCALLY; IN ALL PROBABILITY FORM THE GRANITE HILL ON WHICH THEY NOW LIECHT DERIVED FROM THE RESIDUAL BLDRS OF DECOMPOSITION, OUTLINES DETERMINED BY JOINTS AND SCHISTOSITY, NOT TORN OFF BY THE GLACIAL ICE.

WHY DO THEY OCCUR WAY UP IN THE STRATIFIED GRAVEL? THEY MIGHT WELL OCCUR IN THE BASE OF THE DEPOSIT, HOWEVER. IF ICE CAME OVER HILLS OF GRANITE CONSIDERABLY HIGHER THAN THIS PANTOPS DEPOSIT, THIS WOULD BE EASILY EXPLICABLE. MAY IT NOT BE CONCEIVABLE THAT ICE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THEIR DETATCHMENT AND TRANSPORTATION? MAY THEY NOT HAVE ROLLED AND SLID DOWN TO THE ACOUMULATING OUTWASH PLAIN? WHERE IN THE SPOKANE VICINITY ARE UNDOUBTED WISCONSIN TILL DEPOSITS? SPOKANE QUADRANGLE GARDEN SPRINGS-S.P. & S.RR AND O-W RR CUTS, 2-3 MILES SOUTHWEST OF SPOKANE

FOUR CUTS HERE ON EACH RR IN 2 MILES DISTANCE. CHIEFLY IN SHALE ALONG SP AND S; THO BASALT AND SANDSTONE ALSO EXPOSED. CHIEFLY IN BASALT ALONG O-W RR NPRR, ON EAST SIDE LATAH CREEK HERE, HAS ONLY GRAVEL EXPOSED. SHALE IS HARD AND BLOCKY WHEN DRY, DOES NOT WEATHER INTO LAMINAE VERY STRIKINGLY. CHIEFLY BUFF IN COLOR. SS GRAY, STRATIFIED, ALSO POORLY DEFINED. BOTH ROCKS ARE COMPOSED CHIEFLY 109T IRTS CAA GAA CHA AJUDMA 2¹ AGJE TISTO OR ENTIRELY OF VOLCANIC ASH.

title: Page:1922 Bretz Notebook.pdf/1


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/206

 sparing the children when it seemed even the credo was beyond their grasp. I have given them grace by patience where others have used the stick. But what is it to profit me now?"

"There is Cristóbal with his guitar; speak to him and see."

"Ah, Cristóbal is a good lad, a loving boy. But there are not many like Cristóbal. Yes, they will disperse at my command, Juan; I have no fear of that. But with what reservations for tomorrow? That is like lead on my breast. They have seen authority"

"They're going to see it again, then. Look there!"

Don Geronimo stepped into the moonlight of the little plaza, his broad hat pulled low over the white bandage that circled his head and came down to his eyes. Pistols were in his belt; his black whip was on his wrist.

"Don Geronimo! He heard the revelry, he rose from his bed of pain."

Juan had a thought of warning Cristóbal, whose back, he knew, the black whip would single out for its vicious assault. Padre Ignacio restrained him as he stepped out into the moonlight to shout Cristóbal's name.

There was no need to warn Cristóbal, whose quick eyes were the first to see the mayordomo, and to realize with a falling heart that the celebration of his passing was premature. A surprised cry, low like a moan of pain, followed Cristóbal's word of


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/207

 warning as the people rose and cleared out of the plaza like leaves before a wind.

Don Geronimo's whip burned like a brandingiron wherever it fell, and it was as quick as a serpent in his supple hand. Child and man, mother and babe, it lashed alike in its indiscriminate fury. Don Geronimo's voice rose strong over the screams of women and children as they fled before his arm.

"Who has declared a fiesta?" he demanded. "Who has told you to sing and dance? Now, sing with pain, dance with agony, you dogs!"

Don Geronimo rushed from side to side of the plaza, his leaping whip never falling short. Women encumbered by clinging children, old men whose feet were slow, suffered for the merry-makers who sped away at the first alarm. Juan was furious at the sight of this atrocious punishment where a word would have served as well. But Padre Ignacio had firm grip of his wrist; he remained in the shadow, writhing in pain at the sound of the screams of women and the sobs of children who felt the fiery touch of Don Geronimo's lash.

"Let us return; I shall not be needed here," Padre Ignacio said.

Juan attended him, the confusion of the village, the running feet, the lamentations of the flogged, sadly disturbing the placid night. He could not feel that Padre Ignacio was not needed there, where authority had come again to dissipate the rejoicing of innocence, and tyranny to stamp under relentless feet the springing fires of manhood and liberty.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/208

 So, Don Geronimo was not down; sad revelation to those who had stolen a little breath of liberty that night.

"I did not expect such a quick recovery," Padre Ignacio said, comforted and vastly relieved, "although life came back to him within half an hour. Come with me to my chamber, Juan. There is something on my heart that I must say to you this night."


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/209

UAN followed Padre Ignacio up the narrow stairs and through an unfinished part of the great building, where only the light of the priest's open chamber door guided them through a hot close darkness that one could feel on the face. There were finished chambers on only one side of the building in this part, used for lodging guests; the other side was a vast emptiness, the long rafters of round cedar trunks bare overhead. Juan was obliged to do obeisance to save his head a thump on the low lintel of the padre's door.

Padre Ignacio brought the chair from beside his bed and placed it for Juan at the table-end over against the north window. There they seated themselves, the thick tallow candle standing between them throwing off a smell of cracklings, such as the Indians feasted on after the fat had been pressed out of them in the vats.

"It is plain then, Juan, that this unfortunate engagement between you and Don Geronimo brings affairs to a crisis," Padre Ignacio said. "I tremble to think of the consequence of another meeting."

"Let him go about his own business and I'll at-


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/210

 tend to mine," Juan proposed, not disturbed by the padre's uneasiness for the future.

"Don Geronimo is not a man to accept a blow without retaliation. He is a hot, a vengeful man."

"I wouldn't expect him to let it pass."

"What can end this feud, then, but the death of one or both of you? Unless, certainly, you make peace with Don Geronimo as a Christian should."

"If he'll come and offer it, Padre Ignacio, I'll not turn my back."

"Don Geronimo is not the aggressor, my son. You were the first at fault, Juan, the morning you stood between Don Geronimo and Cristóbal at the wine press. You were ignorant of conditions here, certainly, and that mitigates your fault, in my eyes, but not so with Don Geronimo. It was a defiance of his authority before the eyes of the meanest; it threw Don Geronimo in contempt."

"He was about to do a contemptible thing."

"After the insubordination you have witnessed tonight, you should know better than to condemn Don Geronimo for his inflexible hand, my son. You have seen how license springs from the striking down of authority, how the spirit of anarchy sweeps like a fire among the unrestrained."

"I have seen a coward lashing harmless women and children with a whip! and that is all I have seen tonight that was wrong, Padre Ignacio."

"We are spending words for nothing, Juan. There are two courses open to you for insuring the placidity of San Fernando: the first is to go humbly


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/211

 and contritely to Don Geronimo this night, and crave his pardon for the passionate weakness that drove you to strike him with your unlucky flail."

Juan shook his head, his lips set firmly, his countenance severe.

"The other course is that you leave San Fernando within three days. I pronounce this sentence with a heavy heart. Grateful as I am, dearly as I have come to love you for your candor, your honor, your truth, I must set your face to the perils of the long journey back to your own country, unless your wisdom prompts you to accept the simpler, the truly Christian way."

Padre Ignacio looked at Juan appealingly, his brown hand put out as if to invite to the simplicity of this course. Juan did not see the inviting hand, nor the pathetic, tender appeal of Padre Ignacio's eyes. He was staring at the window, his eyes fixed as if he saw the long road stretching through many dangers, that led to his home and kind. He shook his head again, unmoved.

"I can't go and bend my neck to Don Geronimo," he said.

Padre Ignacio regarded him in silence, the eager appeal dying out of his face. He saw that Juan would accept any penance rather than the single one that would bend down his pride. He was a man who confessed no superior.

"You can understand the justness of my decision, Juan?" he seemed to beseech.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/212

 "Don Geronimo struck the first blow; let him come to me," Juan replied.

"It cannot be," Padre Ignacio sighed, despairing of making him understand.

"Then there's nothing for me but to leave."

Padre Ignacio did not speak. He sat with head bent, overwhelmed by a cataract of thought. One sandalled foot was set beyond the shadow of the table, a sturdy, dusty foot that seemed as if it had come to rest but then from tramping the long white trails of that summer-land.

"Will you permit me to take the horse that fell into my hands from Alvitre?" Juan inquired.

"But I will be happier to know that you are alive, filling the useful destiny that God has planned for you, than dead here by Don Geronimo's hand," Padre Ignacio said, his head still bent, his voice low. "The horse?" looking up suddenly, as if the words had only penetrated his ear that moment. "Take him, Juan. I wish I could give you riches to load his back. But you will prosper without that. Only tell me, Juan, that you will hang a bell in a little church some day in your own country in memory of your old friend who wished you well, but could do so little for your happiness."

"You have saved my life, Padre Ignacio." Juan touched the brown hand that lay on the table near him with firm pressure, assurance of his sincere gratefulness.

"By my cruel edict I save it again, for you will


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/213

Rh pass through the dangers of the journey and come to your home at last."

"And I will hang three bells in a church, each one of them not less than a hundred pounds weight. I shall name them in my heart for the three that I love best in San Fernando; when I hear them, I shall think it is your voices, calling to me from California, from San Fernando by the hills."

Padre Ignacio's fingers clasped his young friend's hand, pressing it tenderly. His face was bright with a smile, but tears stood in his eyes, to tremble a moment in the candle light and course down upon his worn brown gown.

"Duty calls for many sacrifices along our way," he said. "If I could send Don Geronimo away I would keep you here, but that is impossible, there is no other man who could stand in Don Geronimo's place. He knows our fields and herds as no other man; his loss would be a calamity."

"I believe he is a zealous and conscientious man, although I question his methods. No, I am not one, at least, who could fill his place."

"He understands cattle, the breeding, the increase, and agriculture. Only vines and olives he does not understand, but they are safe with me. If I could keep you, Juan, and teach you the care of a vineyard, until the exemption I have asked for you arrives—but that is indefinite; it will be months, perhaps years. It may not be granted at all. Perils encompass you wherever you are in California; there is no refuge for you here. More than that,


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/214

 you must be disciplined before our neophytes, they must be shown that no man can strike down authority and continue on his way. His deed must overwhelm him, as they must see this assault upon Don Geronimo banish you from friends, and dearer than friends. So, make ready, Juan. The third day from this must not see you in San Fernando."

"I am ready. When everything is quiet tonight I'll leave you, Padre Ignacio. You can direct me to the pass that leads to the mission road across the sands?"

"It is by way of San Gabriel. No, not tonight, Juan—there is no pressure to force you away tonight. Tomorrow I will give you a map, and letters to those at San Gabriel, who will assist you on your way. Now I go to Don Geronimo, to tell him of your banishment. He shall have no cause to say you have gone unpunished, and seek adjustment with his own hand. Tomorrow, Juan; tomorrow."

Juan accompanied Padre Ignacio to the court, where they stood a moment in silence before the broad door, now shut and barred, through which the Indians were carrying grapes to the wine press on Juan's first morning in San Fernando. Padre Ignacio laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, in a touch of gentle absolution for whatever fault was his.

"I will set a truce between you and Don Geronimo, I will require it of him on the cross," Padre Ignacio said. "If you want to remain until the day after tomorrow, or to the last hour, Juan?"


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/215

 "I think it will be better to go soon, since I must go."

"Until tomorrow, then. It is pleasant on a moonlight night beside the fountain, Juan."

Juan was not a stranger to the delights of the fountain on a moonlit night, or even a night without moon. He had sat on the bench near the trellis where the roses clambered in perpetual bloom many an evening with Padre Mateo, smoking their pipes in perfect understanding. Borromeo, the blacksmith, often had joined them; frequently Juan and Borromeo had occupied the bench alone, when there were guests who had news of interest to the padres of San Fernando. Tonight the bench was empty. Padre Mateo was taking his pipe on the arched portico before the public door, with guests from the south who were passing the night; Borromeo was singing in his little house, where his shadow crossed the window when he moved about, busy at some congenial service for himself.

It was a sad thing for Juan, this banishment from San Fernando, where he had come an uncouth stranger but a little while ago. Its quaintness had become as familiar as his own face, its medieval atmosphere, its baronial government, had come to be accepted as truly fitting to the old-world somnolence of that sunny land. The charm of it had won him from his recollections, the peace of it had quelled his yearnings for home, until the past had become very dim and far away, its renewal not any more desired.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/216

 He had hoped that the stern law of that land otherwise so genial and inviting would be set aside in his case, an answer to Padre Ignacio's generous appeal. With such immunity he could have taken land on the river, somewhere in the broad and fecund valley between San Fernando and the Pueblo de Los Angeles, and established a prosperous ranch, free alike from the harassments of winter and the hazards of drouth. But, as Padre Ignacio had said, such exception might not be granted, the paper might never come. In such event, the mission soon would grow a small place for one whose feet never before had acknowledged bounds. So he had thought. But tonight, with the sentence of banishment upon him, he would have been glad to accept the restrictions which had bound him during his stay for the balance of his days. For there was that to be left behind at San Fernando which all the world beyond could not supply.

That was not Borromeo's footstep on the tiled garden path, nor Padre Mateo's step. It might be Doña Magdalena, coming to her kitchen to see that all was well. But she had passed the kitchen door; she was coming toward the fountain, perhaps cooling her brow after Don Geronimo's foray into the plaza. It would be a trying experience to meet Doña Magdalena, and hear her reproaches, yet there was no way to escape. For Doña Magdalena's sake he was sorry for the blow he had given Don Geronimo with the flail. He bowed his head in his hand, waiting for her to speak.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/217

 "Will you assist me, Don Juan? Padre Ignacio sent me for roses to refresh the breakfast table."

Then if Doña Magdalena's voice was so gentle, so friendly and so sweet, she might speak on by the hour, even to chide and condemn. Tula, white as a white rose she had come to gather, stood beside the fountain, a basket in her hand.

"How many do you require?" Juan asked, taking the little bright shears out of her hand, the same, indeed, that she had worn that morning hung about her neck like a crucifix.

"Wait, Don Juan—the braid!"

She took it from round her neck and tossed it playfully over his head.

"I have caught you now, Don Juan!" she laughed. "You are my apprentice to the shears."

"Bind me to the trade," he supplicated; "make it a long apprenticeship."

"They should be sheep shears then," said she. "But why would you have the apprenticeship long, Don Juan?"

"How many roses do you require?" he asked, his hand on the bramble that grew thicker than a strong man's arm.

"As many as the basket will hold, Don Juan."

Juan stood on the bench to reach the choice blossoms high on the trellis, Gertrudis holding the basket, the moonlight on her lifted face. The shadow in her cheek was deeper here than by the light of day; it seemed as if many hopes had departed out of her life, and few had come to abide.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/218

 Yet there was no sense of oppression in her manner, only a gentle patience as of one chastened and made sweet by pain. Her hair was fairer for the moonlight, fair as northern tresses, her heritage from some Gothic adventurer who set foot upon the Iberian plains so long ago.

"We have enough now, Don Juan, the basket will not hold another one."

"Here is one too many, then, and the best of them all. I was reserving it; you can put it in your hair."

"In the morning it will open," she said, holding it against her cheek. "When I see a rosebud burst, I think it is like a soul that goes to God."

Juan took the basket from her and placed it on the bench, while she wove the rose stem in her hair above her ear, where the jasmine blossom had held the place of honor as she sat that morning with her class, when Juan Molinero found it as difficult to pass her door as if his own feet had been enmeshed in that soft entanglement.

"Now, I will run with the roses, Don Juan," she said, reaching out her hand.

He gave the basket to her, keeping hold of it still as if it stood, with its white burden, a covenant between them.

"Roses seem sweeter at night," she said, her head bent over them, her hand passive on the basket, no pressure in it to relieve him, nor any hurry in her feet to run away.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/219

 "Has Padre Ignacio told you of my banishment, Gertrudis?"

"Banishment?" She lifted her face quickly, in a panic of surprise.

"For the peace of San Fernando. You know what has happened?"

"May you always strike hard for those you love, Don Juan." She laid her free hand on his where it clasped the slender handle of the little basket, her seal of approval of the deed for which he stood under sentence of banishment. "But I did not know that you must go; I thought Padre Ignacio had arranged a truce. I heard him speak of a truce to Don Geronimo."

"Only covering the time I make my preparations to depart. Tomorrow Padre Ignacio will give me letters to certain people on the way, and a map of the road I am to go."

"But the soldiers, Don Juan?"

"There will be no soldiers the way I am going, Tula; not even men of any kind for a long and weary way across the southern desert. Very likely I'll leave in the night, besides. They'd find it hard to follow me."

"It will seem that so much will go with you away from San Fernando, Don Juan," she said pathetically, "so much of the life and energy of the place, so much that is needed here for the happiness of all."

"I wish I could think it so," he said, his voice low and grave.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/220

 "It will seem that hope will leave with you on your long, long journey to your homeland, Don Juan."

"I wish I might hope that it would be so, Gertrudis."

"You will go to those whom you love better, but to none that can wish you better than those you leave behind."

"I shall leave more behind me than I shall ever find again. If I had the freedom of this country outside the mission, Tula, Tula, I would not go, Tula. If the dispensation asked for me by Padre Ignacio were certain to be granted, I would hide in the mountains until it came."

"But it might be granted," she spoke eagerly, her handclasp tightening. "Then I could send you word, I could send Cristóbal. Or I would go, Don Juan; I would go to the world's end to carry such good news to you."

He covered her hand with his broad palm, and so they stood, their four hands on the little basket, their fealty pledged in roses, their understanding blessed in bloom.

"And I would wait till the world's end for you to come," he told her, as earnestly as if he vowed. "But it is too uncertain, Tula; Padre Ignacio says it may take months, even years. I believe he has no hope that it ever will come at all."

"Then you will go away, Dan Juan, into the desert, as one goes away into the night, never to be seen again."


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/221

 "Paper or no paper, I will come back, Gertrudis, if you will wait for me at San Fernando. Give me a year, and we will fill a basket of roses for our wedding day."

"A year, or ten years, Juan. I will be waiting here, if San Fernando stands."

"I am not a poor man in my own country, Gertrudis, and more than I own I can command. It will be a simple thing for me, if I ever reach the Mississippi, to go to Boston and sail with a ship for California. There is trade waiting anybody that will brave the barbarous laws of this country and sail a ship here freighted with the things that are needed, to be exchanged for the hides there is no market for in Mexico."

"It might be a hazardous undertaking, but you, but you, my brave, strong Juan, you do not know peril where another falls."

"The coast is unguarded, Tula; there isn't a ship in these waters that could turn back a Boston brig. We could lie off San Pedro—I looked it over the day we went for you—and run to sea if anything threatened from land. But I believe the authorities would wink at the law to get a cargo of yankee goods. Give me a year, then, Tula, and I will return."

"As long as San Fernando stands."

"Your trust will carry me through. It may be for the best, after all, that I must go."

"There was a forecast in your heart of this go-


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/222

 ing when you stood here this morning in the sun. You will remember, Juan?"

"But you were wrong when you said that home was dearer than friends in San Fernando. Poor Padre Ignacio! For the peace of the mission he banishes me, but he weeps to see me go."

"I have been a long time after the roses, Juan," she said, gently freeing her hands. "Padre Ignacio will wonder why I am so slow."

"There is no mystery," Juan answered, smiling; "he has been sitting on the bench by the wine press for the past ten minutes, waiting for us to come."

"Ah, what a heart!" said she.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/223

E would have married her, but the wisdom of Padre Ignacio stood in the way," said Magdalena. "It is a perilous journey, Padre Ignacio said, that Juan is setting his feet upon. He may not return. It is better to be a maid than a widow. I heard him say the words."

"I'd rather be a rich widow than a poor maid, even pretty as God ever fashioned on his anvil," Borromeo declared.

"So they have gone to the church to plight their betrothal before the altar. That is next to a wedding; that will hold them true until they meet again, if ever that day shall come."

"I don't know," Borromeo demurred; "a woman is a fly, she will go buzzing after the next lump of sugar she smells. It will take more than plain promises on bent knees to hold a woman to her word."

"A woman will hold steadier than a man, who is ready to run off after the first pretty ankle he sees under a woman's riding gown."

"Maybe more, doña, when she slides to the ground; maybe a leg, heh? They say the English and American ladies ride like monkeys; Juan will


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/224

 have his temptation presented many a time before he sees the pretty eyes of our little Tula again. But no woman will wait a year for a man if another comes by her window. My poor little Juan should have married her, Padre Ignacio would have yielded to argument, especially from a man of experience like me. And I would have stood up like a lawyer to talk for Juan"

"Like a fool, you'd better say!" said Magdalena in scorn. "What do you know about women, or how true they can be to a man who is worthy?"

Borromeo struck the cold iron upon his anvil a ringing blow, his brows knotted in displeasure.

"Why do you stop to gossip with a fool then, doña? Go along, then, and put your words like cotton in the ears of that great saint Don Geronimo, and don't stand in the light of a poor fool that never did more than cut a false woman's throat for her perfidy."

"Maybe you will cut mine, Borromeo?" she mocked him, stretching out her chin, drawing the delicate dark skin tight on her round, soft throat. She laughed in his eyes, merry as the music of a holy day.

Borromeo was taking a horseshoe from the fire with his tongs. He plunged the glowing iron toward her, causing her to leap back nimbly, her laugh cut by a breathless exclamation.

"Go along, now, one of your kind," said he.

Magdalena stood in the door of the forge, her hand against the side, the sun on the bright ker-


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/225

 chief about her head, twinkling on the great gold rings in her ears.

"Just as if I didn't know your fraud as well as I can see the bottom of an empty bucket," she said. "Borromeo, you never killed anybody, you never killed anything; your heart is too soft."

"So, I was condemned to prison for doing good!" he sneered, but badly, making a poor effect.

"For stealing, that is all; stealing money out of a man's pockets, the prank of a foolish boy. I have heard it. You were drunk at: the time."

"Now!" said Borromeo, beating the horseshoe furiously, his face dark-red as the cooling iron. "What slanders you heap on a man, Doña Magdalena, with your bold tongue. Say, then, that I was put under a penance for stepping on a dog's tail!"

"You were put under a penance for fighting the soldiers in barracks when all of you were drunk on brandy brought from Santa Barbara, you simple great ox. Go on, live in the reputation of a dangerous man with blood on his fingers—I'll not betray your innocence, Borromeo."

Borromeo dropped his hammer, reached with a little spring and drew his smutty fingers across her cheek, leaving four streaks of black. She looked at him in humorous reproach, the simple fellow's heart as well known to her as the secrets of a divided apple, her fingers ruefully trailing where his had swept, as if to feel the grime.

"Rascal!" she said, laughing again in his eyes.


text:
Page:1922 Bretz Notebook.pdf/2

 SOIL HORIZONS AND ABUNDANCE OF EXCELLENTLY PRESERVED LEAVES. KNOWLTON HAS SUGGES STED MIOCENE AGE OF THE FLORA. HAS NOT YET WORKED IT OUT. HENRY FAIR SHIPT HIM 10 APPLE BOXES OF SPECIMENS RECENTLY. 4RED YTIROTEIROS T SHALE AND SS INTRUDED BY BASALT. BOTH DIKES AND SILLS AND MUCH THAT IS JUST BIG GOBS. NO FLOWS. COLUMNAR STRUCTURE POOR, PLATY PARTING VERY PRONOUNCED. IS THE COLUMNAR STRUCTURE CHARACTERISTIC OF THE COLUMBIA LAVA FLOWS AND THE PLATY STRUCTURE OF COLUMBIA LAVA INTRUSIONS? BUT LITTLE BAKING OF SHALE HAS OCCURRED. HOWEVER, MINUTE CLAY COLUMNAR JOINTING HAS BEEN BORMED SOME OF IT VERY CURIOUS. IN THE CLAY JOINT BLOCKS, 3-4 INCHES IN DIA, AND RATHER IRREGULAR 3912 +RREGULAR IN SHAPE, ARE 100S OF SMALLERJOINTS, AT RIGHT ANGLES APPROXIMATELY TO THE SURFACES OF THE LARGER AND RADIATING FROM A CENTRAL CORE LIKE THE PORTIONS OF A PINETREE CONE. RUSSELL ALT HAS DESCRIBED THIS COLUMN-IN-COULMN IN THE COLUMBIA BASALT ITSELF. 398 NO BASE TO THE SHALE AND SANDSTONE EXPOSED. BUT PROBABLY IT IS IN THE BASALT SERIES. ENRY FAIR REPORTS A LOG BETWEEN FLOWS, FOUND IN SPOKANE, WHICH WAS SAWED INTO BOARDS BLACK AS EBONY BUT NOT CRUSHED OR SILICIFIED. GRAIN (SEQUOIA KNOWLTON) SHOWS PERFECTLY. CITY 1 MUSEUM HAS A SAWN BLOCK OF THISSANE LOG. MUSEUM ALSO HAS A COLLECTION OF LEAVES. 11 NONP SECTION ON EAST SIDE LATAH CREEK EXPOSES ONLY GRAVEL. SOME BLDRS SEEN IN THE GRAVEL, AS AT PANTOPS. SECTION DOES NOT EXTEND VERY FAR SOUTH BUT PROFILE OF BLUFF TOP AND CHARACTER OF SLOPE TO THE SOUTH SUGGEST THAT THE GRAVEL CONSTITUTES THE ENTIRE BLUFF AT LEAST AS FAR AS AQUILT JCT OF LAKE CREEK. BRINK OF BLUFF 2300+. THIS IS 300 FT HIGHER THAN ANY OTHER PART YET FOUND OF THE WISCONSIN VALLEY TRAIN IMMEDIATELY NORTH OF SPOKANE IT PROBABLY IS A PLATEAU WI CONTROLLED BY BASALT, VAH LIKE PLEASANT PRAIRIE AND FIVE-MILE PRAIRIE. 29048 STIHAR AND TAAT VOBA 19 BARONDO WON TI WO HOIT1803 Yeuo1v80 81 11 SPOKANE TO DARTFORD AUG. 1 1922 a 0800 GREAT VALLEY TRAIN GRAVEL FILL EXPOSED IN NORTH PART OF CITY. MUST BE 100 FEET OF IT BAT IN BLUFFS OF SPOKANE VALLEY. LIKE PANTOPS GRAVEL EXCEPT THAT IT HAS NO BLDRS. ASSUMED TO BE OF SAME AGE. SINCE FORESET BEDS INDICATE THAG WATERS FLOWED SOUTH, THIS SHOWS THAT THE PANTOPS 301 JA10AO T 40 WHO TOM TITH GHA BLORS WERE LOCALLY DERIVED. TURVARD USITARTS MYSHT SAND DUNES ON V.T. GRAVELS DIRECTLY EAST OF FIVE-MILE PRAIRIE. ALSO SEEN EARLIER ALONG GENRY IN VICINITY OF MEAD.. HAGY 2901 MOLTATRO STEEP SLOPES ON NORTH, BEDDING IN GN CUTS DIPS NORTH. HT BAX 931883 GOW 21T OT HD 01J2 OHA OBJJOR 3VAH TOW YEAT AUG. 2 1922 JJIT #2008 atau SPOKANE TO VALLEYFORD TO MICA URGENTN OUTWASH APPARENTLY WENT FROM PANTOPS SW ALONG BROAD VALLEY HERE OVER TO LATAH CREEK.A, BHY NO GLACIAL MATERIAL SEEN ALONG INLAND EMPIRE ELECTRIC RR SOUTH OF MORAN STA. GRANITE IN CUTS, MUCH PEGMATITIO DIKE MATERIAL IN IT. DEEPLY DECAYED FROM VALLEYFORD TO MICA, BASALT JUST BENEATH THE SOIL. SHALLOW WELLS IN IT. NO DEEP MANTLE OF SOIL ON THE BASALT. EITHER (1) BASALT DECAYS MUCH MORE SHOWLY THAN GRANITE OR PERHAPS BASALT HAS BEEN SCRUBBED OFF (2) GRANITE HAS BEEN EXPOSED MUCH LONGER THANE BASALT. HERE, THO THIS DOESNT SEEM LIBELY, EXCEPT IN POSSSBLE OUTLET CHANNELS.ORKS JA SHOTBUHAS OKA YURLARGE'S LAKE OUTLET SEEMS PLAUSIBLE. NO DEFINITE CHANNEL IN WESTERN SPILLWAY, BUT A FEW SCATTERED FRESH GRANITE BLORS AND QTZITE (PALE BLUE GREEN, FINE TEXTURED) BLDRS WERE FOUND. 0908 ONE QTZITE BLDR W'S ANGULAR AND PLANED AND STRIATED.AC3191TARTS YARD 22 HEADINAJOV O YUSRITIS RO

title: Page:1922 Bretz Notebook.pdf/2


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/226

 Borromeo threw back his head and roared, shaking with laughter until the horseshoe rattled in the jaws of the tongs, his mouth wide enough to hide a spade.

"I have put you under my seal," he said, tears of mirth on his beard. He wiped his eyes on the crook of his wrist, with a comical grimace.

"I'll not betray you, Borromeo," she promised, rubbing with her apron at the streaks of grime. "Is it all off, pig?"

"It will do; you are black, anyway, by nature you are black, Doña Magdalena. It will not be seen. How is Don Geronimo's split head mending? You must have care of fever that may strike to the brain."

"Don Geronimo rode last night to the pueblo. There was the rumor of a ship."

"So? He is not in his bed, then. He is a rash man to go riding through the heat with a cracked head."

"It is nothing to Don Geronimo!" Magdalena was displeased by Borromeo's familiar discussion of Don Geronimo's wound. She turned away coldly, as if to go.

"They are sealing their promises before the altar, heh?" Borromeo stooped for his hammer, after thrusting the cooling horseshoe back into the fire. He stood a little while with hand on the bellows, his head bent as if in reflection.

"I suppose it is done," she returned. "There


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/227

 is Padre Ignacio at the church door. They are remaining behind for prayers."

"I am not the man to cross the path of a friend," Borromeo said, blowing hard at his bellows, his face turned to the fire, "but if Juan does not come back when his year is past, then I'll marry Tula myself. A man is not an old man at thirty"

"Soldiers!" said Doña Magdalena, startled, alarmed. "What is this?"

"Soldiers?" Borromeo repeated, going to the door, wiping his hands on his leather apron as he went. "I thought we were done with those scoundrels. Olivera rides ahead, and here is little Captain del Valle, coming galloping as if he had stopped to pick up a purse. Juan! by the holy wood, they have come for Juan!"

"Impossible! Why this day than any"

"He has been betrayed! News of his banishment has been carried to the pueblo by some vengeful traitor. Del Valle would not risk taking him on the road, but comes here to do it in safety."

"If you mean Don Geronimo"

"By the holy wood, I do mean Don Geronimo!"

"Then you lie!"

Sharply as Magdalena flung the insulting charge, it was no more than a pellet against Borromeo's indignant wrath. He pushed her out of his door without a word and went running after the troopers, who were riding in a clatter of shod hooves along the paved arcade to the church door where Padre Ignacio stood. Magdalena saw that the


text:
Page:1922 Bretz Notebook.pdf/3

 IF NOT A LAKE TO THE NORTH, AT LEAST THERE SEEMS TO BE EVIDENCE OF DISCHARGENG GLACIAL WATERS. THE FRESHNESS OF THE BLDRS INDICATES THAT THE DISCHARGE WAS ?? HEA#13 2038 MABATE SOM YUTHERANNA SOILS AND TOPOGRAPHY CUER TA AONET 108 310 HT MANE Je ENOU GHT KE 038 MICA TO BELLO AUG 2 AT MICA THE ENTIRE HILL WEST OF TOWN IS COMPOSED OF GRANITIC WASTE. JAY THICKNESS MUST EXCEED 100 FT.. THE WASTE IS STRATIFIED, SOME STRATA ALMOST PURE KADLIN SHITE CLAY, SOME A FINE GRAVEL OF QTZ, FLDSPR AND MUSCOVITE, A COARSE ARKOSE. APPARENTLY THIS HLLL HAS BEEN THE SITE OF A LOWLAND OF THE OLD GRANITE LAND, PERHAPS PRE-BASALT. FOSSIL LEAVES FOUND IN THE CLAY. AT FREEMAN, THE SAME SITUATION IN A BIG PIT BOR CLAY, 50 ET DEEP. EXCEPT THAT STRATIFI- CATION ISNT VERY DEFINITE AND NO COARSE ARKOSE PRESENT. NORA GHT BOSH 100A JATRAV IN SEVERAL CUTS BETWEEN FREEMAN AND BELL, PLENTY OF ANGULAR QTZITE WAS FOUND IN THE GRANITIC WASTE. ALL SIZES OF FRAGMENTS, NOT TRANSPORTED BUT PRODUCED BY WEATHERING ON THE PRESENT TOW SLOPES. DEEPLY STAINED. NO OUTCROPS OF QTZITE FOUND BUT IT MUST BE PRESENT BENEATH. HOOR O PALOUSE LOESSIAL SOIL FOUND OVERLYING THE GRANITE WASTE AND, SOUTH OF BELL, OVERLYING BASALT APPARENTLY NOT RELATED CLOSELY TO UNDERLYING FORMACIONS NO GRADATION BETWEEN BASALT AND SOIL SEEN BETWEEN BELL AND ROCKFORD.) BASALT ISNT DEEPLY DECAYED. ON SLOPES AND IN VALLEY BOTTOMS, PLENTY OF BASALTIC RUBBLE AND EVEN LEDGES EXPOSED. T T-0831.10.om NOW EX OWT VALLEY OF MICA CREEK FROM VICINITY OF BELL SOUTH TO ROCKFORD IS CLEARLY ENTRENCHED BELOW THE SURROUNDING M TURE TOPOGRAPHY AND CLEARLY MUCH YOUNGER. THIS DOES NOT SHOW WELL ON THE MAP (100 FT INTERVAL) BUT IS PROMINENT TO THE OBSERVER IN THE FIELD. BELOW ROCKFORD, IT IS SHOWN WELL ON THE MAP..TODA 83T OT ASAS 3T 90 3T 40 TIMER 28180230 35 HOU 2TM OHAO 3MT 30 834008 A38OJ SHT 41424343 HT 300 JOHADT I TEATUDS ROCKFORD TO TEKOA AUG. 3 OMA BY TOT MOD AVERAGE A DIVIDE RISING TO 2950+ RUNS NORTH FROM THE TEKOA MT MASS ALMOST TO ROCKFORD. SUMMIT OF BASALT HILLS 2500-2600ATHESE HILLS PROBABLY NOT BASALT BUT NO ROCK SEEN IN TRAVERSE ACROSS. VERY MATURE TOPOGRAPHY OF DRAINAGE LINES SOUTH OF ROCKFORD, ABOUT FIRRFIELD AND ON ALL SIDES OF TEKOA MTS. QUITE IN CONTRAST WITH THE ROCK CREEK AND MICA CREEK VALLEYS AT ROCKFORD. ALSO NOTABLY IN CONTRAST WITH SLOPES OF TEKBA MTN. 23011312 3HT 18 NO SLATY STRUCTURE IN ARGILLITE. TEKOA MTN. COMPOSED OF TILTED ARGILLITE AND QTZITE. ORIGINAL SEDIMENTARY STRUCTURES, LIKE RIPPLE MARX, LAMINATIONS, ETC., STILL VERY DEFINITE. MUCH JOINTED, HOWEVER. NO LEDGES OF ROCK ON THE MTN. BUT SLOPES AS STEEP AS THE LOOSE MATERIAL WILL MANNTAIN. MTN HAS ONLY A SAKK SMALL PIEDMONT WASTE SLOPE FLANKING IT, AND GENERAL EFFECT IS- THAT OF AN ABRUPT RISE OUT OF THE BASALT COUNTRY.. BASALT IN SITU FOUND WITHIN HALF A MILE OF OX3 J108 T NO TRACE OF THE BASE AT TEKOA. QUARRIES IN BASALT HERE AT BOTTOM OF LATAH CREEK VALLEY. WengX3 PROBABLY THE SMALL WASTE SLOPES BASALT EVER HAVING BEEN HIGHER ON FLANKS OF TEKOA THAN NOW. IF PRESENT, THIS OF THE MTN. SPREAD OUT ON THE BORDERING BASALT, THO THIS WASNT DEMONSTRATED. RELATIONSHIP WOULD IMPLY THE FOLLOWING TEKOA AT TNBEF OF BASALT FLOWS WAS ARRECIPITOUS 29834 ROCK-WALLED MTN. VERY YOUTHFUL IN SLOPES. VI THESE HAVE SOFTENED AND THE SLOPES BECOME WASTE- ELISYO COVERED WHILE THE BASALT HAS BONE THRU YOUTH TO MATURITY. AT THIS SEEMS PECULIAR, FOR HIGHER LESS WATER RUNS OVER STEEPER SLOPES SHOULD BE ERODED MORE RAPIDLY THAN LOWER FLATTER SLOPES. SVOBA S THESE HOWEVER. DAVIS, IN ANALSIS OF EROSION CYCLE, NOTES THAT MOST RAPID CONSUMPTION OF UPLANDS IS IN LATE MATURITY. HOYA 36 00 BWIRAWAT S

title: Page:1922 Bretz Notebook.pdf/3


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/228

 blacksmith carried a long iron bar in his prodigious hand.

Magdalena stood near the smithy door, looking after the soldiers with sinking heart. She held Juan in blame for the blow he had given Don Geronimo, but not in unforgiving bitterness. There was mitigation in the deed, she was just enough to understand and admit, but it had been a wicked thing to strike authority down in the eyes of the subjugated and mean. It was better for Juan to go from San Fernando, Padre Ignacio's decree was wise and just; but it was a sorrowful misfortune for him to fall into the soldiers' hands. Don Geronimo could not have betrayed him; she could not believe it so.

It was not more than an hour before vespers; the shadow of building and tree fell long across the court; the shadow of the church reached far over the mean huts of the Indians which lay snuggling along the other side of the separating adobe wall; Borromeo's shadow was a huge, long-striding thing as he ran after the troopers, the terrible iron bar in his hand. In a few hours more night would have fallen; Juan would have ridden in safety out of the mission gate.

Padre Ignacio stood at the vestry door, just as he had emerged from the church but a few moments before, astonished by this rude invasion, this barbarous charge against the very walls of the sacred building in whose protecting shadow he waited. At the corner of the church the headlong advance halted suddenly at Captain del Valle's command.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/229

 There the little force divided, four troopers going with Sergeant Olivera to the front door, four continuing with Captain del Valle to confront Padre Ignacio where he stood, his indignation, his great bewilderment, upon him.

"What is the meaning of this wild riding into these sacred precincts, Captain del Valle?" Padre Ignacio demanded, his voice trembling in resentment of the outrage.

"I have come to demand the body of Juan Molinero, so called, who has entered California in defiance of the king's edict, and who stands charged with murderous assault on the person of Don Geronimo Lozano, mayordomo of San Fernando."

"You shall not touch him, for all your grandiloquent charges. Juan Molinero is under discipline of the church for such misdemeanor as he is guilty of; his punishment is extreme. Turn again, Captain del Valle, and be careful that you ride in the cart track, not across the pavement of our arcade."

"This temporizing cannot stand in the way of justice, Padre Ignacio. Juan Molinero must be surrendered into my hands."

"Call your ruffians from the door of this sacred house, or you shall suffer for this sacrilege!"

"I am not to be denied. Threats, my good padre, cannot bar me here."

"Juan Molinero is in sanctuary; he is at his prayers within."

"Then we shall drag him out, with irons on his arms. Inside, Olivera!"


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/230

 Borromeo rushed past Padre Ignacio and into the church.

"To the altar, Juan! to the altar! the soldiers are upon you!" the blacksmith shouted, his great voice roaring in the empty church, coming back in shattered echoes from the choir loft and stately gables.

Padre Ignacio hastened after Borromeo; two troopers dismounted at the captain's command and entered through the vestry door.

There was neither bench nor pew, nor cushion to kneel upon at prayer, in the spacious interior of San Fernando church. The white plastered walls, the soft red tiles of the floor, clean as devoted care could make them, lent an atmosphere of purity and sanctity to the place. Its very emptiness seemed to accentuate its consecration to holy purposes, to lofty meditation, to heaven-aspiring prayer.

The boots of Sergeant Olivera and his men—two at his back, two keeping the door—were loud on the tiles before Borromeo's warning was hurled among the beams. Juan and Gertrudis were standing before the altar, his hands clasping hers as when he had reached to lift her. She shrank against him in terror of the soldiers, their defiance of that sanctuary, the sudden violence in their peaceful hour.

"Stand!" Sergeant Olivera commanded, advancing with drawn sabre.

"The soldiers!" said Gertrudis weakly, clinging in stifling fright to Juan's supporting hands. "Leave me, Juan—fly!"


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/231

 Even with an eagle's wings he could not have escaped them, if it had been in his heart to go and leave her there, stricken and white at the altar steps. Soldiers were at the inner vestry door close behind Padre Ignacio, who lifted his hands to stay the sacrilegious advance of those who had entered from the front.

"Put up your weapon, Sergeant Olivera! outside with your men!" the priest commanded.

Sergeant Olivera lifted his saber in salute, but did not pause a moment in his advance. He was within a few yards of the spot where Juan and Gertrudis stood. Padre Ignacio came down hastily and stood before the altar, spreading out his arms.

"Let no man touch him on pain of being denied the holy sacrament!" he cried shocked to the heart by the thing that was being done.

Sergeant Olivera stopped, his head bent for a moment as if he faltered before the interdiction and its dread penalty. Then he lifted his eyes, his face white as if the blood of his heart had been drained away.

"A soldier must obey his commander first, padre, and afterwards make his peace with God," he said. "Juan Molinero, you are the king's prisoner. Stand forth!"

"Now!" Borromeo roared, rushing forward, his iron bar lifted high, "if any man touches him I'll burst his head!"

Borromeo was in easy swing of Sergeant Olivera, who paused and drew back before such a terrible


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/232

 weapon in the hands of that bristling giant. In his pause, in his moment of open guard, Juan sprang and caught Olivera's sword-arm, wringing the weapon from his hand.

Sergeant Olivera leaped back, drawing his pistol, a sharp command on his tongue. The two soldiers leveled their pieces, and Padre Ignacio, his breast heaving, his face tense, his eyes wide in the horror of the growing outrage, rushed between Juan and the threatening guns.

"Peace!" he commanded. "This place must not be profaned with blood. Juan, go with them in peace."

Juan stood a breath, looking at the sword in his hand. He tossed it from him then, with gesture that acknowledged its utter uselessness, as a man throws down a broken tool which has failed him in the moment of his greatest need.

"The irons!" Sergeant Olivera commanded.

"Not here!" Padre Ignacio interposed, stretching his arm to stop the soldier who sprang forward eagerly, the heavy gyves in his hand. "I will guarantee his peaceful and nonresistant passage to the outside. Beyond that, it must be as God wills. That way," to Juan, indicating the vestry door.

Padre Ignacio went beside Juan, the soldiers pressing behind. At the inner door of the vestry, opening close beside the altar, Juan looked back. Gertrudis was on her knees before the altar, her hands clasped to her face, her head bowed in the agony of her supplication. A bright sunbeam,


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/233

 streaming through a tall window, reached near her feet, like a path of golden promise that ended suddenly there, such as the path that had led them to their plighted word, to plunge them into this sudden abyss of despair.

This unexpected development in the midst of what Juan had felt to be his security, his happiest hour; this dragging him from the sanctuary in open defiance of his right under the law, as he knew very well, was portentous of the gravest imaginable things. It was such a shocking blow that it stunned him, leaving him groping for the opening that would show him a gleam of assurance, very much as he might have groped for the door if he had been stricken blind as he stood before the altar.

Outside the vestry door Captain del Valle sat on his horse, his sword-hilt and trappings glittering in the sun. The brim of his broad hat was fastened up with a rosette of gilt cord; the dust of his quick ride from the pueblo, a matter of twenty-five miles, was heavy on his coat. One soldier was on the ground, holding his companions' horses, one in the saddle near the captain. Four came with Sergeant Olivera conveying the prisoner, and two remained at the front of the church.

Borromeo came last out of the church, and stood with his back against the wall, his iron bar taken from him by Padre Ignacio, turning his eyes with a glowering and savage mien.

"Here is this man, whom you have torn from his lawful refuge," Padre Ignacio said, halting with


text:
Page:Adam's reports on vernacular education in Bengal and Behar, submitted to Government in 1835, 1836 and 1838.djvu/189

Rh in explaining the formulæ peculiar to the votaries of Siva and the female deities, by which they seek to attain supernatural powers and accomplish objects either good or bad for themselves or others. The work taught by this Pundit is the Tantra Sara, a compilation on those subjects. One of the two Tantric sects, some of whose followers are found in this district, are intemperate and licentious in their habits and manners, not only believing that the use of intoxicating liquors is permitted, but that it is enjoined by the system of doctrines they profess. With such a belief the use of them is naturally carried to great excess, but the conduct of such persons is regarded with great abhorrence by other Hindus.

The Medical school. No. 70 (c) of Table III., contains seven students of whom four are residents of the village and three strangers. The period of commencing the study of medical works is from twenty-two to twenty-five years of age, and that of discontinuing the study from twenty-five to thirty years of age, the whole period of study varying from five to eight years. It is expected and required that medical students shall have previously acquired a knowledge of Sanscrit grammar and general literature in some of the schools of learning taught by Brahman-pundits, after which they commence a course of medical reading in this institution. The period of study is shortened or prolonged according to the ability of the students for a shorter or a longer period to dispense with the emoluments of private practice. The school is taught by two aged brothers, Vaidyas in caste, most respectable men, and in high repute as medical practitioners. Neither Vaidya teachers nor Vaidya pupils receive invitations or presents, as Brahman-pundits and their pupils do, and the former are consequently dependent solely on their own means for the maintenance of their establishment. Vaidya teachers, however, like Brahman-pundits, lodge and feed those pupils who have no home in the village in which the school is situated, and they also give their instructions to all gratuitously. A student incurs an expense of about sixteen rupees in copying the books necessary to be read in an entire course of study. The work first read is the Nidana, a standard medical work, after which the students of this school read Chakradatta by Chakrapani; Ratnamala by Ramakrisna; Dravya Guna by Narayana Dasa; a commentary by the same author on his own work Madhamati; commentaries of Vijaya Raksita and Siddhanta Chintamuni on the Nidana; a commentary on Chakradatta by Yasodhara; and Patyapatya, a work described as variously treating of the causes of disease, diagnosis, the practice of medicine, and materia medica.

In a general view of the state of Hindu learning in this district, grammar appears to be the only department of study in which a considerable number of persons have a distinguished proficiency. The most eminent Pandits are 18 (a) and 70 (b). Ramakanta Sarvabhauma a logician, and Siva Chandra Siddhanta a


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/234

 his hand on Juan's shoulder before Captain del Valle. "I have brought him out to prevent the pollution of this sacred place by blood. The most awful penalty that holy church can pronounce rests on the heads of these guilty men who have torn this refugee from the altar. Turn, Captain del Valle, and ride away with these outlaws who have profaned God's house at your command."

"The irons!" said Captain del Valle.

"This is the protest of holy church against your tyranny, Captain del Valle. I shall not surrender this man to your irons."

"You can protest away, then, my good padre," Captain del Valle said, insolently defiant. "We have what we came for. The irons!"

Two soldiers yielded their pieces to their comrades and laid hold of Juan, to bring his arms behind him to receive the irons. Poor old Padre Ignacio, shocked almost to speechlessness by this barbarous defiance of sacred authority, interposed once more.

"On pain of excommunication"

"Peace, old man!" Captain del Valle rudely checked him. "There are no terrors"

A hiss, like a quick-swung blade cleaving the air; a sharp blow, as a man striking himself with open hand upon the chest. Captain del Valle rose in his stirrups, rigid in a moment of mortal agony, plucking vainly at an arrow that had driven through his breast. Sergeant Olivera sprang to his side, easing him as he fell.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/235

 There was a confusion of shouts, of shots at random; a leaping of soldiers to locate the unseen assassin. Juan Molinero flung to the ground the two men who held his arms, sprang into Captain del Valle's saddle and galloped away.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/236

UAN'S first thought was to fly to the hills directly behind the mission, a distance of two miles or more away. When he reached the corner of the church, the hasty shots of the unsteady soldiers singing over his head, he found that road blocked by the two men left by Sergeant Olivera at the front door. Behind him Sergeant Olivera was mounting and calling his men to the pursuit. Juan did not know whether soldiers had been left to watch the mission gate; it was a hazardous chance, but he had no time to linger and debate it The sound of the pursuing soldiers was loud in the road behind him as he bent low and pressed hard for that one possible exit to the open road.

At that moment he saw Cristóbal running, swift as a hare, on an angling course through a little vineyard between the tallow vat and the buildings that flanked the arcade, easily keeping abreast of Juan's galloping horse, shaping his way as if to intercept him presently. Juan knew whose arrow had struck Captain del Valle down in his impious tyranny. He believed now that Cristóbal expected to leap up behind him and share the slender chance of escape. To further this quickly caught plan of


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/237

 the young Indian, as he interpreted it, Juan drew his horse under the arcade and rode in close to the fronts of the little adobe houses along the way. That moment he saw Padre Mateo at the corner of the main building, where the cart track rounded it to pass the gate. Padre Mateo was beckoning him on, frantically, the sleeve of his gown flapping as he waved his arm.

Just here, when Juan expected Cristóbal to run out between the houses, Cristóbal came galloping on horseback, yelling in the exultant triumph of his wild young soul. He was riding Juan's horse, the fleet black animal taken from Sebastian Alvitre, which he had saddled and stationed at that strategic point, his plan worked out in the quick comprehension of his agile mind. Sergeant Olivera was not four rods behind them when they swept around the corner of the great mission building and saw the unguarded gate.

Unguarded but for Padre Mateo. There that honest, rustic-faced priest stood, one leaf of the ponderous oaken gate closed, the other half-swung, ready to clamp to its fellow the second they were through. Juan saw Padre Mateo's benediction in his eyes as he rode past him, leaning low over the pommel of the saddle, Sergeant Olivera's pistol balls flying so near he seemed to feel their wind.

When Sergeant Olivera came to the gate he was obliged to pull up hard, and set his horse back in the dust to save himself being pitched over the barred gate. There was an adobe wall ten feet


text:
Page:1922 Bretz Notebook.pdf/4

 HELMER SILT LOAM ON EAST SIDE TEKOA APPARENTLY A LOESS. THBUFF COLOR INSTEAD OF BROWN AND BLACK, AS ARE THE PALOUSE SOILS.TANT C.M. & STP RR CUTS 30-40 FT DEEP EAST OF TEKOA DO NOT NONE IN STREAM BEDS EITHER. APPARENTLY A DEEPER SOIL THAN THE PALOUSE SOIL WEST OF TEKOA AT FAIRFIELD WHERE LEDGES OF BASALT AND BASALTIC RUBBLE ARE EXROSED IN THE LOWER SLOPES OF THE MATURE VALLEY. W OFTWARD 3000M HOT RO TEOW JIN BRITVE IT ADIM TA EXPOSE BED ROCK. PALOUSE SOIL GOES UP ON SLOPES OF TEKOA BUT IS MINGLED WITH ANGULAR FRAGMENTS OF THE ARGILLITE DOES FORMER PRESENCE OF AND QUARTZITE. BAHWHY THE BUFF-COLORED HELMER SOIL ON EAST OF TEKOA? A FOREST HERE EXPLA IN THE DIFFERENCE? FOREST ON EAST AND PRAIRIE ON WEST DURING ACCUMULATION OF THE LOESSIAL DEPOSITS. PRAIRIE GRASSES YIELD DEEPER HUMUS SOIL THAN FOREST VEGETAL ACCUMULATIONS. HYPOTHESIS

HENCE THE BROWN (CARBONACEOUS) COLOR OF THE PALOUSE TYPE. TW HOITAO MOUNDS ON ARGILLITE AND QTZITE DEBRIS IN SEVERAL PLACES ON TEKOA.EUFF, NOT BROWN SOIL. NOT CLOSELY SPACED BUT OTHERWISE TYPICAL. TUB BARE OR FLOORED WITH ANGULAR ROCK FRAGMENTS BETWEEN. NO ROCK FRAGMENTS IN THE MOUNDS. MOTT TEKOA TOWN IN FLOOR AND ON SLOPES OF SECOND CYCLE VALLEY (ENTRENCHED) AT BROADER PLACE WHERE TWO CREEKS JOIN. RR.CLIMBS (0-W) OUT TO THE SOUTH IN TWO OR THREE MILES AND THENCE TO A POINT BEYOND GARFIELD IS UP ON THE MATURE FIRST CYCLE TOPOGRAPHY WITH PLENTY OF HILLS OF ODEBR ROCK TO THE EAST AND SOME TO THE WEST. THESE HILLS ARE SPURS AND OOVIDES OF THE IDAHO PRE-BASALT MTS. THEY ARE RIDGES AND GROUPS OF RIDGES LARGELY. OT SUCH PEAKS AS STEPTOE, GRANITE, ETC., ARE EXCEPTIONS. THE RELATIONSHIP OF THE BASALT TO THESE FOOTHILLS, I.E. THE FLOODING BACK IN THE VALLEYS AND OVER THE LOWER SLOPES OF THE IDAHO MTS IS THE SAME THING WHICH LINDGREN DESCRIBS FOR THE CONTACT TO THE SOUTHEAST IN IDAHO. OF IDAHO HAD BEEN UPLIFTED AND DISSECTED BEFORE MIOCENE TIME. UROS OT 1819 30rvid A IT MEANS THAT IF THE BASALT IS MIOCENE, THE PENE PLAIN THE SPOKANE LEAF-BEDS, IN SP AND S CUT, ARE IN ALL PROBABILITY IN THE BASALT FORMATION. KNOWLTON SAYS MIOCENE, AFTER CURSORY EXAMINATION. AARO YRARBOROT BRUTA YHV

NOW, IF THE TRACE OF A PENE PLAIN WILL REMAIN ON THE SUMMITS OF A MOUNTAIN RANGE FROM EARLY MIOCENE TIME, AND THE STEPTOES WILL REMAIN ABOVE THE LAVA PLAIN AROUND THEM WHILE THAT PLAIN GOES TO MATURITY, THEN IT SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE THAT ANY PENEPLA IN UPLIFTED, WHATEVER ITS CLIMATE,

COULD BE ERODED SINCE PLIOCENE TIME TO A RUGGED RANGE LIKE THE CASCADES. THIS IS A SEVERE CHECK ON THE CASCADES PLIOCENE PENE PLAIN. NONE OF THE BROWN HELMER SILT LOAM IN EVERY SECTION OF SOIL FROM TEKOA TO GARFIEED. TO BLACK SOIL EXCEPT FOR THE UPPER FOOT OR SO. BASALT FAIRLY CLOSE TO SURFACE, PLENTY OF EXPOSURE ON LOWER SLOPES, BUT NO LEDGES. VALLEY AT FARMINGTON A MILE WIDE, YET ONLY A GRIBUTARY VALLEY IN THE FIRST CYCLE TOPOGRAPHY. EXPLANATION MUST LIE IN LOCAL NARROWS DOWNSTREAM, ACCORDING TO MAP, THO STILL IN FIRST CYCLE. CONDITIONS. SAME FOR REBEL FLAT AND SPRING FLAT SOUTH OF COLFAX. (SEE AUG 31 1923) LEDGES ON ALMOST RR ENTERS SECOND CYCLE CANYON AFTER CROSSING DIVIDE SOUTH OF GARFIELD. IN FAVORABLE PLACES, ALL SLOPES, CLIFFS FOR HALF THE TOTAL CANYON DEPTH JUST ABOVE ELBERTON. HELMER SIDE LOAM ACCUMULATIONS 10-20 FT DEEP IN THE CANYON. THE PALOUSE RIVER CANYON HAS AN TS MINOR TRIBS ARE ESSENTIALLY HANGING ABOVE PRESENT ENTRENCHED MEANDERING CO RSE HERE. CANYON FLOOR.

title: Page:1922 Bretz Notebook.pdf/4


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/238

 high around the mission grounds at this point; it ran to the corner of the main building on one hand, far along the field-edge on the other. Sergeant Olivera and his soldiers could not ride over it; there was no way around.

They told the story long years afterwards, how Padre Mateo held the gate that day until Juan and Cristóbal were safe in the bosque in the mountain canyons; how he threaded his arm through the iron brackets that held the great oak bar, telling the soldiers that they must dismember him to open the gate and ride after his oppressed children. Sergeant Olivera, being a reasonable man, turned and rode back to the church, and led his men through the little burying-ground at the farther side of it, and took the roundabout way to the king's road again, where the trail of Juan Molinero and Cristóbal was by that time cold in the dust.

Juan Molinero, in the meantime, found himself in the mountains behind the mission, where it did not require much of the craft that he was master of to conceal himself from such clumsy trailers as these soldiers who went about their business with no more than half a heart, at the best. He was mounted on a good horse, provided with a good saddle, and two pistols in the holster at the saddle-horn. There was nothing more. He had no hat, no cloak, no food. He was dressed like a Spanish gentleman, in black silk jacket and buff trousers, and ruffled shirt open at his neck. His red sash was fringed and tasseled with gold thread. It was fit for nothing


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/239

 but to catch in harsh and thorny shrubs and hang up evidence that he had passed that way.

Cristóbal was no better provided, aside from his bow and arrows, which were his assurance of sustenance, as Juan would have felt assured with his rifle and ammunition within his reach. But Cristóbal was in a joyous mood. He had won his freedom from the cruelties of Don Geronimo at last.

Cristóbal related with pride how he had grasped the soldiers' intention when he saw them ride to the church, and how he had determined that moment to get Juan away safely out of their hands. As the first step in his swift preparations to that end he had caught Juan's horse up out of the corral and saddled it, concealing it close by Borromeo's house. Then he had crept up within easy shot of the soldiers, hiding among the clumped grapevines, and had shot Captain del Valle for two very good reasons. The first of these was that he bore him an unquenchable hatred for his debauchery of young Indian women: the second to create a commotion which he knew Juan would take advantage of to escape, exactly as it had come about.

The young man was fully aware that he could not return to his people at the mission, nor remain anywhere within reach of the military in California. There was no refuge for him in Mexico, except perhaps in distant Santa Fé, and there he might stop no longer than his description would be in reaching the military authorities.

"So, I am going to your country, Juan," he an-


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/240

 nounced; "I am going away with you and be a man."

Juan agreed that it was the only course open to him to escape punishment, which would be as severe in one case as the other, let Captain del Valle be alive or dead.

"He is dead," Cristóbal declared. "Would I miss a man's heart at fifty yards, Juan?"

Juan knew very well that Cristóbal would not miss a mark so fairly presented. Captain del Valle was dead, and in that fact his own peril in California was doubly magnified. No dispensation from the viceroy could exempt him from the charge of complicity in that deed, although he was innocent in intent. He would not have lifted a hand against a soldier in Padre Ignacio's presence.

The two refugees rested in a wooded canyon where night was already deepening, although the peaks of the blasted hills were grey yet in the failing day. Cristóbal searched until he found some pieces of hard wood, to be used in the primitive method of making fire, which he tied to his saddle with great satisfaction, saying they would have no fear of means to cook their meat now. For him, the necessities and comforts of a journey, let it be never so long, were provided.

Juan was of a different mind. He had no reason, certainly, to hold the soldiers in such fear as Cristóbal, never having felt their oppression and cruelty as the Indians who had suffered under them. Their vigilance, and the valor and shrewd-


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/241

 ness of Sergeant Olivera especially, was not to be lightly held, in any case, yet Juan was confident that he could return to the mission for certain imperative reasons which urged him, and depart again undiscovered.

For one thing, he wanted his rifle. Without it on such a journey as lay ahead of him he would feel as hopeless as a man thrust out upon the sea without a plank to sustain him. And there was Gertrudis; she must be comforted and assured. Finally, and not of least importance, there was the map of the old mission trail, with the distance from water to water, and all other essentials of the road, which Padre Ignacio had prepared for him. With this to guide him, he would feel far more confident of reaching the Mississippi, and his plantation in the clearing of the Kentucky forest.

Cristóbal discounted the need of these things, actuated more by his fear that Juan would be taken by the soldiers if he should attempt to return to the mission than by the great confidence in his bow and arrow that he professed.

"I can find water in the desert, an Indian can smell water three leagues, Juan," he said. "We can hide at the water and kill deer with my arrows. The old men say there are big oxen on the other side of the desert, with long hair. The bulls have whiskers on their chins, one of them is big enough to feed twenty men."

"That is true, Cristóbal, but a white man must have a hat to keep the sun from his head in the


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/242

 desert. A white man's head is not as thick as an Indian's; he falls dead from the sun if he has no hat."

"Oh well, we'll make a hat for you like the one you had when you came to San Fernando," Cristóbal said, overcoming that objection readily. "I'll kill a deer in the morning, we can have you a hat in an hour."

Juan agreed to this proposal, saying that it would be a good thing to prepare for the journey and be ready to go onward in case the soldiers should prevent his return to the mission. Cristóbal, seeing that his intention to return was firmly fixed, touched Juan's shoulder gently, and turned his dark face to peer at him earnestly through the dusk.

"I know why you want to go back, my brother," he said. "It is to kill Don Geronimo. That is very good; a man must strike his enemy, and Don Geronimo is the one who betrayed you to the soldiers. They would not have known you were going if Don Geronimo had not gone to the pueblo and told them."

"That must be true, Cristóbal. But I am not going to kill Don Geronimo."

"Padre Ignacio would say that is fine, to hear you talk like that," said Cristóbal, plainly incredulous, "but a man can't love his enemy. I have tried that, Juan; it does not go very well. I used to pray for Don Geronimo when he cut me with his whip, and what good did it do? Don Geronimo only hit


text:
Page:Adam's reports on vernacular education in Bengal and Behar, submitted to Government in 1835, 1836 and 1838.djvu/190

130 Vedantic, both highly reputed, and both apparently profound in the branches of learning to which they have devoted themselves. I might add also the medical professors who are venerable men and highly respected by all around them for their learning within their own peculiar range as well as for their general character. There are others who occupy a middle rank; but the majority of the Pundits are superficial men and I have reason to think would be so judged by competent persons amongst their own countrymen—that is, superficial compared with the highest existing standards of native learning, although all in general know well what they profess to know. In this district the poetry of the drama appears to be almost wholly neglected. I found only one instance in which the Mahanataka and that alone is read; whereas in some other districts dramatical literature is more generally and more fully studied, the MahanakataMahanataka [sic] being usually succeeded by Sakuntala, Kautuka Sarvaswa, Hasyarnava, Venisanhar, Murari, &c. In rhetoric, the Srutabodha and Kavyachandrica; the former on prosody and the latter on the rules of poetical composition and both in general use elsewhere, are not read in this district. In law, Menu and the Mitaksara, which are studied in other parts of Bengal, are here known only by name; and we have seen that logic, to which by general consent the highest honors are given in Bengal, has here only two professors, of whom one is scarcely worthy to be so ranked. Not only is learning low, but it is retrograding. One village that has two schools of learning (No. 9) had from ten to twelve within the recollection of one of the Pundits, and there has been no corresponding increase elsewhere within the district. The diminution is attributed to the breaking up of the great zemindaries and the withdrawal of the support which their owners gave to the cause of learning and of the endowments which they established. I have already mentioned the comparatively refined tone of feeling and character which the cultivation of Hindu learning appears to give to its possessors; and the effect in some measure extends to their families, for the children of Brahman-pundits are in general bright-looking and intelligent, modest and polite. The system of learned instruction also has a principle of diffusiveness in the gratuitousness with which the instruction is bestowed, but that principle operates only within the pale of the brahman caste, except to a limited extent in favor of Vaidyas, and beyond those limits none of the humanizing influences of learning are seen in the improved moral and intellectual character or physical condition of the surrounding humbler classes of society. It seems never to have entered into the conceptions of the learned that it was their duty to do something for the instruction of those classes who are as ignorant and degraded where learning abounds as where it does not exist; nor has learning any practical influence upon the physical comforts even of its possessors, for their houses are as


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/243

 me harder the next time, as if God had told him what I had done, and made a fool of me."

"I'm not going to kill him, I tell you Cristóbal; I'm not going to lift my hand against Don Geronimo again."

Cristóbal was silent a long time. After a while he laid his hand on Juan's shoulder again, firmly, the pressure of understanding in his touch.

"You will let him live because of Doña Magdalena," he said. "A man could almost love his enemy when he has a wife like Doña Magdalena. She is a gentle lady."

"I have heard her speak kindly of you, Cristóbal."

"But nobody but you, Juan, and Padre Ignacio, ever stood between me and a blow. Will you go to San Fernando tonight?"

"Not tonight, Cristóbal; the soldiers might be expecting me to come back tonight. In the morning we will go farther back among the mountains, and tomorrow night I will return."

Whether Sergeant Olivera had failed to pick up their trail after they left the dusty highway, or whether he had abandoned the pursuit in the early conviction of its utter fatuity, Juan had no choice of conclusion. No soldier had come in sight from the high look-out they kept the next day. At evening Juan was ready for his return to the mission.

Cristóbal was to remain at that place in the mountains for three days, unless forced to flee onward from the soldiers, waiting Juan's return. At the


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/244

 end of three days, if Juan failed to come back, he was to proceed on his long and lonely seeking after a refuge in an alien land.

Juan gave the young Indian the names of people in Kentucky who would assist him; the little English that Cristóbal had learned would further his progress once he reached the country where Spanish would be no longer understood. Juan gave Cristóbal the cavalry horse, and one of Captain del Valle's pistols, with half the ammunition.

At twilight Juan rode down the canyon beside the little stream of crystal, turbulent water on his hazardous return to San Fernando, to repair the omissions of his hasty flight.


text:
Page:The Valley of Adventure (1926).pdf/245

T gladdens my heart to see your face again, my Juan, but I would have been better pleased if you had not returned. You have come to look upon insubordination and rebellion, such a state of affairs as never disgraced San Fernando before, and which may pass with what pain and sorrow to us all God alone can tell."

Padre Ignacio spoke in deep sadness, his lean brown face seamed with shadows in the candle light. It was then long past the hour of retirement at San Fernando; Juan had been guided to Padre Ignacio's room by the light of his north window as he rode cautiously down past the dam, keeping his horse to the furrowed ground. No soldier had challenged his entry to the mission close; the unbarred door had admitted him. He had gone at once to Padre Ignacio's door, his Indian shoes noiseless on the floor tiles.

Juan looked sharply at Padre Ignacio when he made this startling declaration of the disorder at San Fernando. There was no evidence of insubordination and rebellion in the quiet night; as he passed the Indians' huts Juan had noted their silence, glad that all seemed to be asleep, disturbed