The Legends of San Francisco | Page 6

lighted,
One by one,
until the darkness
Scintillated with their sparkle;
And a milky way
of star-dust
Arched across, to hold the heavens
High above the
reach of mortals.
Through the night they watched and waited -
While the silver moon
was racing
Through the silken clouds, and flooding
All the bay and
hills and ocean
With a pale illumination,
Casting moving shadows
earthward
When a dark cloud passed before her.
Wild Coyotes
broke the silence
Of the midnight with their barking,
And the
prowling Wolves crept nearer,
Till the patter of their footsteps

Could be heard in stealthy rushes.
Still the fearless Sisters waited,
Watched the north for signal fires,

And in eager alternation
Held the Magic Yellow Iris.
Came at last the welcome singing
Of the Meadow Lark and Robin,

And above the eastern mountains
Flushed the rose-light of the
morning;
Then again the sky was tinted
By the Elf who plays with
colors,
And the sleeping poppies wakened
When the sunbeams
kissed their eyelids.
From the Heights of Point Bonita
Rose a thread of smoke that
lengthened,
Broadened, flaunted like a banner,
Black and ominous
of evil.
"They are coming!" Yana whispered,
"See, the signal fires
are lighted!
They are coming. Guardian Spirit
Of our native country,
save us!"
And she pressed the Yellow Iris
Closely to her throbbing
bosom.
Over northern rim of ocean
Came the war canoes by hundreds,

Came until the waters darkened
With the number of the warboats.

Never could the Tamals conquer
Such a multitude of foemen.

Swiftly rose and fell their paddles,
Flashing in the brilliant sunshine,

Trailing scarfs of foam behind them,
As they raced toward the

harbor.
Tana searched the far horizon,
Saw the signal fires blazing
On the
mountain tops and headlands,
Heard the war drums in the village

Roll in constant wild alarum.
Yana held the Yellow Iris
With the Magic in its petals,
Held and
gazed with adoration
On the velvet mystic markings.
Then she
plucked a magic petal,
Held it high, and ere it fluttered
To the
breeze this prayer was uttered:
'Spirit of our Native Country,
Goddess guarding home and harbor,

Roll the fog-banks o'er the headlands,
Hide the narrows from the
foemen;
Bring the west-wind from the ocean,
Drive their boats to
crash and shatter
On the rocky surf-bound islands.
Bring the
west-wind! Bring the fogbanks!'
From the ocean came the west-wind,
Blowing stronger, growing
cooler,
Bringing in protecting fog-banks,
Sweeping landward o'er
gray waters,
Flooding through the Golden Gateway,
Rolling over
shore and headlands.
Through the fog the boats were racing
For the entrance to the harbor,

When they plunged into the smother
Of the breakers round the
islands -
Crashed upon the rocks and splintered.
From the surf the
foemen struggled
To the rocks and scrambled on them.
Then the Maiden plucked another
Petal from the Magic Iris,
And
she prayed again, 'Oh, Spirit
Of our Native Country, hear us,

Change the foemen to Sea-creatures,
That they never more attack us.'
As the magic petal fluttered
To the ground the foe was changing.

Arms and paddles changed to flippers;
Legs were bound as in a
bandage,
And their brown and hairy bodies
Wriggled on the rocks,
and crowded,
Barking, fighting one another.

When the danger was averted,
When the enemy was helpless,

Sisters wept, embraced each other,
Thanked the Gods for their
deliverance.
Still remained another petal
Of the Magic Yellow Iris.
'One more
wish we have, one only.'
Said one sister to the other,
'Would we
might remain forever,
As the guardians of the harbor,
To protect it
from all foemen,
To invoke the fog and west-wind.'
Then, again The Poppy Maiden
Stood triumphantly before them.

'You have chosen well, my children,
Had you wished for wealth or
beauty,
Robes or jewels for adornment,
Or for any selfish purpose,

Then the petals would have fallen
To the earth and lost their Magic.

My twin daughters, ever faithful,
All your thoughts are for your
people;
Therefore, you shall be immortal,
Standing on the heights
forever,
As the Guardians of the Harbor.
Draw your mantles around
your shoulders,
Furs they are, but flowers they shall be.
As my
garments are of flowers,
So shall yours be, golden poppies,
Lupins,
blue, shall deck your mantle.
Blue and gold shall be your colors -

Blue, for purity of purpose;
Gold, for worth of soul and spirit.

While you stand above the harbor,
While you call the fog and
west-wind,
While you wear your cloak of poppies,
Never shall a
foeman enter
Through the Golden Gate with war-boats.
Pluck the
petal, let it flutter
To the ground. Your wish is granted.
Stand
forever, native daughters,
As Twin Peaks, to guard the harbor.'
That was long ago, my children,
When the earth was young, and
people
Heard the voices of the Spirits -

Knew the language of the
sea-birds.
To this day the ancient warriors
Flounder on the Sea
Rock Islands,
Barking, roaring, crowding, fighting,
Near the
gateway of the harbor.
Still the Sisters, as the Twin Peaks,
Guard
the city and the harbor.
In the summer, at the season
When the
ancient foes came southward,
They invoke the cooling west-wind

With its fog, to screen the harbor;
Yet, the sunlight seeks the valley


Where the ancient tepees clustered,
Beaming there in benediction,

While around it lie the shadows.'
That, my children, is the legend
Told beside the evening campfire

By the ancient Tamal woman,
In a grove of giant redwoods,
On the
slopes of Tamalpais.
The Sea Gulls.
Round the boat the Sea Gulls hovered,
Soaring on their spreading
pinions,
Floating on the air, but turning
Searching eyes upon the
people;
Searching, searching, always