A Napa Christchild; and Benicias Letters | Page 5

whirling blindly onward.
[Illustration: Scroll]
[Illustration: Scroll]

III.
The waters fell almost as rapidly as they had risen, and by sunrise on
Christmas Day, the river had returned between its banks, though still
flowing fast and frothy.
Mists lay in strata along the hills showing the green grass between in
long, even stripes. Up from the high mesas sprang the larks ready to
greet the day, or perching for a moment on some sturdy manzanita they
spread their broad tails, with two white feathers, balancing and chirping
cheerily.
A little valley through which an arroyo flowed, scantily bordered by
low growing willows, formed the scene; on one side was a stubble-field
with many cattle grazing on the new grass; there were a few dark oaks
and then on the first risings, yellow patches of vineyards with red,
ploughed ground dotted with manzanitas. The high hills which formed
the background were rough and black.
In the hollow at the foot of the mesa was a newly formed pond on
which floated branches of trees, bits of wood and some broken pieces
of household furniture; about the grass was strewn the same sort of drift
and the grass itself was torn and bent and there were yellow-white bits
of foam upon it. At one side wedged between two encina trees lay the
roof of a house, on the edge of which a little child was sitting beside the
body of a man, who lying with one arm hung listlessly over the side
seemed asleep or dead. The pond was fast lowering, leaving its burden
of debris scattered about.

This was the scene which met the searching eyes of Jovita of Tulucay
Rancho as, mounted on her horse, she came around the knoll which hid
the house and buildings of the rancho from the meadow.
Jovita quickly alighted, took up the child in her arms, and seeing that
he was unhurt but simply dazed at his situation, placed him upon her
horse and gave her attention to the man who lay there, to all
appearances dead.
"Unfortunate man," she said aloud, unable to repress her tears, "his
wife has probably been lost and he has saved their child."
She took his hand in hers and felt that his pulse was yet beating; a
bruise on the temple seemed to be the only wound and was caused by
the blow which had stunned him.
As Jovita chafed his hands and smoothed his forehead, he opened his
eyes, and then looking about astonished at his surroundings, asked,
"Where is the Christchild? Surely I have saved him."
The little one from the back of the horse began in his strange tones to
sing the "Song of the Hemlock" in answer to Crescimir's enquiry.
"I hardly know where we are, for in the darkness and swift whirl of last
night I lost my way," he said, sitting up. "I remember now that
something struck me when the raft stopped. I thank God that the
Christchild was not lost, dear little fellow."
"Christchild?" exclaimed Jovita, looking at him in surprise, "Have you
given your boy that name?"
"I do not know, Señorita, who the child is, but he came to my door last
night, Christmas Eve, and brought me some of the merriest hours I
have had since I left old Illyria, and had not the flood carried away
everything, I would have marked yesterday as one of the happiest in my
life. He is a strange little fellow and will not, or else cannot speak, yet
he sings beautifully in his own odd way as you hear him now. I called
him Christchild as I knew no better name. Are you not the Señorita of

El Tulucay? I know that horse which you have and have often seen him
with a lady on his back flying over all the fields about here."
"Yes, I am Jovita of the Tulucay, and I know you now; you are called
Crescimir the Illyrian, and I have been often to your cabin and sat
beneath the great laurel while you were in the fields or at your work. I
have often left flowers there at your door just for the pleasure of
imagining the surprise when you should find them, and I always took
the vegetables I found there, for I knew that they were for me. However,
I never saw your face before this morning. You see I am little like our
Californians, but my mother is from the States and believes in more
freedom; she could not be better or kinder though she were a real
Californian. If you are able we had better go up to the hacienda now,
and after breakfast we will look about to see if assistance is needed
along the river, for the flood was