A Napa Christchild; and Benicias Letters | Page 4

understood him, but
it seemed that he was unable to answer except in a cooing sound
expressive of his sensations; however, he could sing most sweetly, not
articulating, but singing as a bird and making beautiful melody. The
song which Crescimir had been singing when he entered, seemed to
please his ear greatly and he warbled it over again in his strangely
sweet tones. Crescimir sung the song a number of times to him and also
many others, some of which with their merry music, breathing fresh

from the high Alps, caused his little hand to keep time with the
hemlock branch as he joined in the songs with his curious notes.
"Thou art a little elf!" exclaimed Crescimir as he kissed the rosy face.
"Thou bringest back all the old days and makest me feel as merry as I
used in far off Illyria. Bless thee little Christchild."
The mysterious guest laughed gaily pulling Crescimir's hair and
drawing his smooth fingers over the dark, weather beaten face of the
man. Then he played horse, riding on Crescimir's knee using the branch
for a whip, while Crescimir sang little verses which came to his mind,
verses which set to rolicking music he had sung in his old home on
feast days at dances in the tavern, accompanied by zither or hackbretl.
"My girl has ta'en her love away, I'm easier now I guess, Don't have to
go so oft to church, Nor half so oft confess-- Nor half so oft confess."
The wind blew harder but neither Crescimir nor his guest heeded it,
while the roaring of the arroyo and river and the steady pouring of the
rain on the roof did not mar their merry making in the least, and they
laughed and sung regardless of it all.
"Now I have two girls, An old one and a new, So now I need two hearts,
A false one and a true."
He continued:
"Here Heavenly Father, 'T were fine to remain If for just half an hour 'T
would gold dollars rain."
Just then the little cabin shook.
"Strong wind to-night; it is lucky for thee, Christchild, that thou hast
found shelter and lucky for me that the evening which promised to be
so dull has been a very merry one.
"Don't be so sad, boy, If she did treat thee rough, The world is like a
hen-roost, Has pullets quite enough."

Crescimir ceased singing, for the Christchild stopped suddenly in his
romping, gazing fixedly with his large, wondering eyes upon the floor.
"What see'st thou, little one?"
The child pointed to the door and Crescimir saw two small streams of
white, foamy water pouring in from each side, and the floor was
covered. Crescimir quickly placed the Christchild on the table and
started to open the door, but before he reached it, the house trembled as
if in an earthquake shock and the door fell back into the room with a
loud crash, while a volume of seething water washed over it almost
throwing him down with its terrible force. The water poured in little
jets through the cracks in the walls and rushing into the fireplace put
out the flames and left the room in total darkness.
The water rose rapidly and by the time that Crescimir had grasped the
form of his little guest and opening one of the windows had drawn
himself with his charge upon the roof, the flood had reached the upper
sashes.
The cabin swayed to and fro and every moment seemed about to be
carried from its foundations. The Christchild made no sound of fear and
Crescimir could not see his face, yet he held the long hemlock branch
tightly in his little hand.
The roof was firmly built of logs and planks so in case the house fell it
could be used as a raft and Crescimir exerting all his strength pulled
from the sides the flat boards which held it fixed to the cabin.
As the flood rose higher, he took the Christchild and lying down in the
middle of the roof held on firmly.
Suddenly the roof was lifted and whirled down the swollen arroyo into
the broad river. Floating logs struck against it, and as they tore along
under the bridge they struck against the buttress with terrific force.
Onward they were whirled; they could see the lights in the houses of
the village and could hear the voices of men and women along the
bluffs or in the trees where they had sought shelter.

The rain ceased falling, but the wind did not go down, rolling the
waves over their raft. Once they lodged for a moment against a great
oak where Crescimir strove in vain to make fast. The tide was too
powerful and all went with it