on the frontier-第1部分

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On　the　Frontier



by　Bret　Harte









CONTENTS





AT　THE　MISSION　OF　SAN　CARMEL



A　BLUE　GRASS　PENELOPE



LEFT　OUT　ON　LONE　STAR　MOUNTAIN









AT　THE　MISSION　OF　SAN　CARMEL





PROLOGUE





It　was　noon　of　the　10th　of　August；　1838。　　The　monotonous　coast　line

between　Monterey　and　San　Diego　had　set　its　hard　outlines　against

the　steady　glare　of　the　Californian　sky　and　the　metallic　glitter　of

the　Pacific　Ocean。　　The　weary　succession　of　rounded；　dome…like

hills　obliterated　all　sense　of　distance；　the　rare　whaling　vessel　or

still　rarer　trader；　drifting　past；　saw　no　change　in　these　rusty

undulations；　barren　of　distinguishing　peak　or　headland；　and　bald　of

wooded　crest　or　timbered　ravine。　　The　withered　ranks　of　wild　oats

gave　a　dull　procession　of　uniform　color　to　the　hills；　unbroken　by

any　relief　of　shadow　in　their　smooth；　round　curves。　　As　far　as　the

eye　could　reach；　sea　and　shore　met　in　one　bleak　monotony；　flecked

by　no　passing　cloud；　stirred　by　no　sign　of　life　or　motion。　　Even

sound　was　absent；　the　Angelus；　rung　from　the　invisible　Mission

tower　far　inland；　was　driven　back　again　by　the　steady　northwest

trades；　that　for　half　the　year　had　swept　the　coast　line　and　left　it

abraded　of　all　umbrage　and　color。



But　even　this　monotony　soon　gave　way　to　a　change　and　another

monotony　as　uniform　and　depressing。　　The　western　horizon；　slowly

contracting　before　a　wall　of　vapor；　by　four　o'clock　had　become　a

mere　cold；　steely　strip　of　sea；　into　which　gradually　the　northern

trend　of　the　coast　faded　and　was　lost。　　As　the　fog　stole　with　soft

step　southward；　all　distance；　space；　character；　and　locality　again

vanished；　the　hills　upon　which　the　sun　still　shone　bore　the　same

monotonous　outlines　as　those　just　wiped　into　space。　　Last　of　all；

before　the　red　sun　sank　like　the　descending　host；　it　gleamed　upon

the　sails　of　a　trading　vessel　close　in　shore。　　It　was　the　last

object　visible。　　A　damp　breath　breathed　upon　it；　a　soft　hand　passed

over　the　slate；　the　sharp　pencilling　of　the　picture　faded　and

became　a　confused　gray　cloud。



The　wind　and　waves；　too；　went　down　in　the　fog；　the　now　invisible

and　hushed　breakers　occasionally　sent　the　surf　over　the　sand　in　a

quick　whisper；　with　grave　intervals　of　silence；　but　with　no

continuous　murmur　as　before。　　In　a　curving　bight　of　the　shore　the

creaking　of　oars　in　their　rowlocks　began　to　be　distinctly　heard；

but　the　boat　itself；　although　apparently　only　its　length　from　the

sands；　was　invisible。



〃Steady；　now；　way　enough。〃　　The　voice　came　from　the　sea；　and　was

low；　as　if　unconsciously　affected　by　the　fog。　　〃Silence！〃



The　sound　of　a　keel　grating　the　sand　was　followed　by　the　order；

〃Stern　all！〃　from　the　invisible　speaker。



〃Shall　we　beach　her？〃　asked　another　vague　voice。



〃Not　yet。　　Hail　again；　and　all　together。〃



〃Ah　hoyoioioy！〃



There　were　four　voices；　but　the　hail　appeared　weak　and　ineffectual；

like　a　cry　in　a　dream；　and　seemed　hardly　to　reach　beyond　the　surf

before　it　was　suffocated　in　the　creeping　cloud。　　A　silence

followed；　but　no　response。



〃It's　no　use　to　beach　her　and　go　ashore　until　we　find　the　boat；〃

said　the　first　voice；　gravely；　〃and　we'll　do　that　if　the　current

has　brought　her　here。　　Are　you　sure　you've　got　the　right　bearings？〃



〃As　near　as　a　man　could　off　a　shore　with　not　a　blasted　pint　to　take

his　bearings　by。〃



There　was　a　long　silence　again；　broken　only　by　the　occasional　dip

of　oars；　keeping　the　invisible　boat…head　to　the　sea。



〃Take　my　word　for　it；　lads；　it's　the　last　we'll　see　of　that　boat

again；　or　of　Jack　Cranch；　or　the　captain's　baby。〃



〃It　DOES　look　mighty　queer　that　the　painter　should　slip。　　Jack

Cranch　ain't　the　man　to　tie　a　granny　knot。〃



〃Silence！〃　said　the　invisible　leader。　　〃Listen。〃



A　hail；　so　faint　and　uncertain　that　it　might　have　been　the　long…

deferred；　far…off　echo　of　their　own；　came　from　the　sea；　abreast　of

them。



〃It's　the　captain。　　He　hasn't　found　anything；　or　he　couldn't　be　so

far　north。　　Hark！〃



The　hail　was　repeated　again　faintly；　dreamily。　　To　the　seamen's

trained　ears　it　seemed　to　have　an　intelligent　significance；　for　the

first　voice　gravely　responded；　〃Aye；　aye！〃　and　then　said　softly；

〃Oars。〃



The　word　was　followed　by　a　splash。　　The　oars　clicked　sharply　and

simultaneously　in　the　rowlocks；　then　more　faintly；　then　still

fainter；　and　then　passed　out　into　the　darkness。



The　silence　and　shadow　both　fell　together；　for　hours　sea　and　shore

were　impenetrable。　　Yet　at　times　the　air　was　softly　moved　and

troubled；　the　surrounding　gloom　faintly　lightened　as　with　a　misty

dawn；　and　then　was　dark　again；　or　drowsy；　far…off　cries　and

confused　noises　seemed　to　grow　out　of　the　silence；　and；　when　they

had　attracted　the　weary　ear；　sank　away　as　in　a　mocking　dream；　and

showed　themselves　unreal。　　Nebulous　gatherings　in　the　fog　seemed　to

indicate　stationary　objects　that；　even　as　one　gazed；　moved　away；

the　recurring　lap　and　ripple　on　the　shingle　sometimes　took　upon

itself　the　semblance　of　faint　articulate　laughter　or　spoken　words。

But　towards　morning　a　certain　monotonous　grating　on　the　sand；　that

had　for　many　minutes　alternately　cheated　and　piqued　the　ear；

asserted　itself　more　strongly；　and　a　moving；　vacillating　shadow　in

the　gloom　became　an　opaque　object　on　the　shore。



With　the　first　rays　of　the　morning　light　the　fog　lifted。　　As　the

undraped　hills　one　by　one　bared　their　cold　bosoms　to　the　sun；　the

long　line　of　coast　struggled　back　to　life　again。　　Everything　was

unchanged；　except　that　a　stranded　boat　lay　upon　the　sands；　and　in

its　stern　sheets　a　sleeping　child。





CHAPTER　I。





The　10th　of　August；　1852；　brought　little　change　to　the　dull

monotony　of　wind；　fog；　and　treeless　coast　line。　　Only　the　sea　was

occasionally　flecked　with　racing　sails　that　outstripped　the　old；

slow…creeping　trader；　or　was　at　times　streaked　and　blurred　with　the

trailing　smoke　of　a　steamer。　　There　were　a　few　strange　footprints

on　those　virgin　sands；　and　a　fresh　track；　that　led　from　the　beach

over　the　rounded　hills；　dropped　into　the　bosky　recesses　of　a　hidden

valley　beyond　the　coast　range。



It　was　here　that　the　refectory　windows　of　the　Mission　of　San　Carmel

had　for　years　looked　upon　the　reverse　of　that　monotonous　picture

presented　to　the　sea。　　It　was　here　that　the　trade　winds；　shorn　of

their　fury　and　strength　in　the　heated；　oven…like　air　that　rose　from

the　valley；　lost　their　weary　way　in　the　tangled　recesses　of　the

wooded　slopes；　and　breathed　their　last　at　the　foot　of　the　stone

cross　before　the　Mission。　　It　was　on　the　crest　of　those　slopes　that

the　fog　halted　and　walled　in　the　sun…illumined　plain　below；　it　was

in　this　plain　that　limitless　fields　of　grain　clothed　the　fat　adobe

soil；　here　the　Mission　garden　smiled　over　its　hedges　of　fruitful

vines；　and　through　the　leaves　of　fig　and　gnarled　pear　trees：　and　it

was　here　that　Father　Pedro　had　lived　for　fifty　years；　found　the

prospect　good；　and　had　smiled　also。



Father　Pedro's　smile　was　rare。　　He　was　not　a　Las　Casas；　nor　a

Junipero　Serra；　but　he　had　the　deep　seriousness　of　all　disciples

laden　with　the　responsible　wording　of　a　gospel　not　their　own。　　And

his　smile　had　an　ecclesiastical　as　well　as　a　human　significance；

the　pleasantest　object　in　his　prospect　being　the　fair　and　curly

head　of　his　boy　acolyte　and　chorister；　Francisco；　which　appeared

among　the　vines；　and　his　sweetest　pastoral　music；　the　high　soprano

humming　of　a　chant　with　which　the　boy　accompanied　his　gardening。



Suddenly　the　acolyte's　chant　changed　to　a　cry　of　terror。　　Running

rapidly　to　Father　Pedro's　side；　he　grasped　his　sotana；　and　even

tried　to　hide　his　curls　among　its　folds。



〃'St！　'st！〃　said　the　Padre；　disengaging　himself　with　some

impatience。　　〃What　new　alarm　is　this？　　Is　it　Luzbel　hiding　among

our　Catalan　vines；　or　one　of　those　heathen　Americanos　from

Monterey？　　Speak！〃



〃Neither；　holy　father；〃　said　the　boy；　the　color　struggling　back

into　his　pale　cheeks；　and　an　apologetic；　bashful　smile　lighting　his

clear　eyes。　　〃Neither；　but　oh！　such　a　gross；　lethargic　toad！　　And

it　almost　leaped　upon　me。〃



〃A　toad　leaped　upon　thee！〃　repeated　the　good　father　with　evident

vexation。　　〃What　next？　　I　tell　thee；　child；　those　foolish　fears　are

most　unmeet　for　thee；　and　must　be　overcome；　if　necessary；　with

prayer　and　penance。　　Frightened　by　a　toad！　　Blood　of　the　Martyrs！

'Tis　like　any　foolish　girl！〃



Father　Pedro　stopped　and　coughed。



〃I　am　saying　that　no　Christian　child　should　shrink　from　any　of

God's　harmless　creatures。　　And　only　last　week　thou　wast　disdainful

of　poor　Murieta's　pig；　forgetting　that　San　Antonio　himself　did

elect　one　his　faithful　companion；　even　in　glory。〃



〃Yes；　but　it　was　so　fat；　and　so　uncleanly；　holy　father；〃　replied

the　young　acolyte；　〃and　it　smelt　so。〃



〃Smelt　so？〃　echoed　the　father　doubtfully。　　〃Have　a　care；　child；

that　this　is　not　luxuriousness　of　the　senses。　　I　have　noticed　of

late　you　gather　overmuch　of　roses　and　syringa；　excellent　in　their

way　and　in　moderation；　but　still　not　to　be　compared　with　the　flower

of　Holy　Church；　the　lily。〃



〃But　lilies　don't　look　well　on　the　refectory　table；　and　against　the

adobe　wall；〃　returned　the　acolyte；　with　a　pout　of　a　spoilt　child；

〃and　surely　the　flowers　cannot　help　being　sweet；　any　more　than

myrrh　or　incense。　　And　I　am　not　frightened　of　the　heathen

Americanos　either　NOW。　　There　was　a　small　one　in　the　garden

yesterday；　a　boy　like　me；　and　he　spoke　kindly　and　with　a　pleasant

face。〃



〃What　said　he　to　thee；　child？〃　asked　Father　Pedro；　anxiously。



〃Nay；　the　matter　of　his　speech　I　could　not　understand；〃　laughed　the

boy；　〃but　the　manner　was　as　gentle　as　thine；　holy　father。〃



〃'St；　child；〃　said　the　Padre　impatiently。　　〃Thy　likings　are　as

unreasonable　as　thy　fears。　　Besides；　have　I　not　told　thee　it　ill

becomes　a　child　of　Christ　to　chatter　with　those　sons　of　Belial？