The Legends of San Francisco | Page 9

groves of the redwoods,
Lacing their
branches together;
Through them the last rays of sunlight
Pierced to
the carpet of needles.
Only the tinkling of water,
Only the breeze in
the branches,
Only the call of the blue jays
Broke the mysterious
silence.
Far through the canyon I wandered,
Far to her camp in the redwoods -

The home of the Indian woman,
Wrinkled and old and decrepit,

Learned in the lore of the Tamals.
Nearing her camp-fire, I saw her,

And halted in fear, lest I trespass.
She sat like a Priestess of Forests,

Chanting with weird intonations,

Slowly, with strange repetitions,
Swaying in rhythmical measure.


Round her the wild forest creatures
Gathered and sat at attention.

Birds ceased their anthems of evening,
Fluttered to branches above
her,
Listened as if fascinated.
The singing was hushed when she saw me;
Away fled the wild things
to cover.
"Welcome, my friend," said the Tamal.
"A seat at my
camp-fire is waiting."
Her welcome was hearty and friendly,
But
out of the shade of the forests
Came chattering, chirping and barking,

Resenting, reproaching, complaining.
I sat by the camp-fire and listened
In wonder. The scene was uncanny.

At last, when the plaints had subsided,
Or faded away in the
distance,
I said , "Tell me, friend, by what magic
Are wild creatures
called to your camp-fire.
Is it a secret you cherish?
May you reveal
it to others?"
She gazed in the flickering embers,
Dreamily gazed in the embers,

Then she replied, "You have heard me
Singing the song of Merita,

The magical song of Merita,
Merita, the friend of wild creatures,

Wearers of fur or of feathers,
Creatures of forest and mountain,

Birds of the sea and the marshes.
I will tell you the tale of Merita,
Merita, the daughter of Yado,

Chief of the fishermen people
Who lived by the Lake of the Oak
Trees,
Far to the east of the harbor.
Slender and tall was Merita,
Dark were her eyes, and her tresses

Glossy and black as the feathers
That gleam on the wings of the raven.

Gentle and kind was Merita,
Serving the young and the aged,

Nursing the sick and the wounded,
Cheering when sorrow was
breaking
The heart of some one of her people.
The Gods taught
Merita the language
Of birds that made nests in the oak trees,
Of
water fowl thronging the tules,
Of all furry creatures that peopled


The hills and the valleys around them.
They came from afar when she

called them,
Called with her song, and they hastened
To tell her
their troubles and sorrows.
She bound up their wounds and caressed
them,
And told them the wiles of the hunters.
Wandering one day to the northward,
She came to a creek where
strawberries,
Ripe and delicious were growing
Beside a small
stream that cascaded
Down from the Peak of the Grizzlies.

Refreshing herself with the berries
She sat in the shade of the live
oaks,
The ancient and widespreading live oaks,
And called to the
wild forest creatures,
Singing the Song of Merita.
'Come, come, come, birds of the air,
For I love you.
Come, come, come, tell how you fare,
For I love you.
Come, come, come, wild creatures, know
That I love you.
Come, come, come, tell me your woe,
For I love you.
Come, come, come, you will I serve,
For I love you.
Come, come, come, you well deserve,
And I love you.
Come, come, come, I bring you aid,
For I love you.
Come, come, come, be not afraid,
For I love you.
Come, come, come - come - come - come.'
Before the monotonous chanting
Was finished, the Blue Jays and
Robins,
Pigeons, and Bluebirds, and Blackbirds
Flew to the
branches above her,
And tipping their heads to observe her
Opened
their bills in complaining.
Down from the canyon a white fawn

Came with a shaft in her shoulder,
Fell at the feet of Merita,

Bleating her plea for protection.
Quickly the arrow was taken
Out

of her quivering shoulder.
Then came the hunter, pursuing -
Halted,
and gazed in amazement.
'I am Zarando, the Tamal,
Chief of the
Thousand Oaks People.
Pardon me, if I have wounded
A pet of the
beautiful stranger.'
Under the arm of Merita
The frightened fawn crept for protection.
'I am Merita, the daughter
Of Yado, the Chief of the Fishers
Who
live by the Lake of the Oak Trees.
The Fawn is my friend, and she
answers
My call to all wild forest creatures.'
'I have a call,' said Zarando,
'A call to decoy the wild creatures
Into
the range of my arrows,
Yet few are deceived by the pretense.

Teach me your call, oh, Merita.
'Nay, nay, Zarando; love only
Will draw the wild creatures around
you.
Love does not change cannot injure -
The shaft is not aimed at
a loved one.
If you would draw the wild creatures,
Love them, and
guard them from danger.'
'I am a hunter, Merita,
And yet would I gladly abandon
The bow
and the trap to secure
The charm that the Great Spirit gives you.

Tell me the secret, Merita,
Teach me to speak in the language
Of all
the wild creatures around you;
Teach me to know and to love them.'
Then were the first lessons given,
Where now gather thousands of
students,
Beneath the old widespreading live oaks
That stand by the
stream in the Campus.
There the first Teacher and Pupil,
Merita and
young Chief Zarando,
Met on the mornings that followed,
Met