Their Mariposa Legend | Page 4

born of many a like
adventure, the seamen leaped fearlessly out upon the sand. In their
hands they held aloft bolts of brightly colored cloth snatched on the
instant from the bottom of the boat. These they offered for the
wondering inspection of the women who, observing the small number
of invaders, were cautiously returning. To the warriors grouped about
the chief they proffered knives of which the steel blades, set in strong
handles of bone, glistened in the sun. Eagerly, yet with a certain
unexpected formality, the men accepted these, passing them for
examination from one to another with many a grunt of satisfaction. To
be sure, no brave among them but might the next moment decide to try
out the merits of his gift upon the bestower, but this danger the
adventurers had to risk. More timidly the women, their eyes fixed
wistfully upon the gaudy red and yellow cloth, approached the
strangers, offering in their turn bits of abalone shell polished to
iridescent beauty.
They seemed in truth a gentle, friendly people, so much so that at
length the sailors, deeming it safe to undertake the second part of their
errand, began to plead for water and to request, besides, an interview
between their captain and the chief. All this by means of signs in which
they displayed no little wit and skill, the Englishmen accomplished
until, well on toward the middle of the morning, they made ready to
return to the ship, the casks they had brought brimming with sweet
mountain water, while with them they bore as well the promise of an
interview of state between the great chief Torquam and Sir Francis

Drake, to take place upon the beach at sunset.
And then at once the little village of Toyobet seethed again with
excitement. For these good paleface friends and their god-like
commander a fitting welcome must be prepared. Fleet-footed
messengers, bearing flaming torches, sped in hot haste along the
mountain trails that all who saw might know without words spoken of
the assembling of the tribe. To the distant village at the isthmus they
hurried, and to the cove on the western coast, some twenty miles away,
to which a band of warriors had gone several days before to hunt the
otter. That no one among his people might remain in ignorance of his
command, Torquam even caused signal fires to be kindled on each of
the twin peaks, extinct volcanoes, near the center of the island. Smoke
rising there was visible from every corner of his land, and woe to any
subject who dared to disregard that warning!
Throughout the long bright day the women toiled, preparing a
ceremonial feast. Three antelope, a deer, and half a dozen of the wild
sheep which roamed the hills were killed and placed for roasting over
deep pits dug in the sand. Nor did any member of the tribe forget in his
own crude fashion to deck himself for the occasion. The warriors
adorned their heads with feathers and daubed their cheeks and lips with
ochre. The women clothed themselves in loose-hanging tunics of
doeskin girt with strings of wampum, and hung about their tawny
shoulders the lovely greens and blues of uncut turquoise. Meanwhile,
also, the great chief Torquam donned his ceremonial dress, a string of
eagle feathers held by the crimsoned quills of the porcupine and
extending down his back until almost it touched the ground. About his
neck, as token of his priesthood, he threw the bear-claw necklace,
known far and wide among the tribes for its famous powers of healing.
Wildenai alone made no change except to bind the satin black of her
hair still more smoothly within a fillet of silver. In the center of the
band, so that it rested just above her brow, a strange device appeared, a
circle enclosing many rays, - the royal insignia of the tribe which only
the daughter of the chief might wear.

Then at last when, in the sunset, level rays of light rested golden on the
bay and turned to amethyst the distant mountains on the mainland, all
was ready. Once again, this time to the weird music of tom-toms and
the beating of drums, a boat was lowered from the ship while on the
shore the Indians watched.
It was in truth a picture not soon to be forgotten. Behind the mirrored
Bay of Moons, its crescent of sand gleaming white against the rocks,
the bands of dusky men and women stood motionless as statues in the
quiet light of the setting sun, while in the doorway of his lodge, his
daughter close beside him, Torquam waited with simple dignity to
receive his guests, the fair-skinned strangers.
At length along the beach advanced the little group of English, friends
and fellow adventurers