Part 2

“Then gathered round the spot all whom I had known in youth and childhood--warriors whose favor I had slighted; maidens jealous of my power; women who had known my mother and despised her for her gentleness and beauty; children, half-grown youths who looked in taunting wonder. On all their faces was visible exulting joy. Long the fearful dirge continued, and with each succeeding measure the looks of hatred and of triumph deepened.

“When at last the dread midnight came and passed, my father hushed the crowd to silence. Then he stooped and lighted my pyre with his own hand. Once only his eyes sought mine, and in that loveless glance I saw--not pity, but unbounded pride. As the flames rose high around me, then, indeed, the frenzied triumph of the crowd below burst from all bonds. They danced and shouted and waved their clumsy weapons in the air.

“Suddenly a crash louder than the loudest thunder, broke through the shouts of wild excitement. A rumble followed, growing every moment nearer. The men and women threw themselves upon the ground and shrieked with terror. The fire at my feet was quenched. A lurid mist encircled Tahquitch Mountain. The moon’s light was covered with a cloud. Then a voice from out the darkness hushed to frightened stillness the cries of the prostrate people.

“‘O child of noble heart,’ it said, ‘you have been true. Your reward shall be beyond the thought of mortals.’

“In an instant I had left the earth, borne in the strong arms of wingèd warriors. They carried me to the peak which, from that time, men have named, in mistaken faith, for the Spirit of wrath and evil doing.

“Since that day, from behind my stony fortress, I have looked down upon the deeds and ways of men; but no earthly care touches me with sorrow. Sheltered from mortal strife, serene among the gods I live--happy, content, save for the sometime yearning of my still human heart for human warmth and understanding.

“The tribe of my people, smitten upon the day I disappeared, I have seen die, and their name has been forgotten. The oak under which I stood, captive to truth and purity, has crumbled to the earth; but I live on and shall ever live, blessed with unfading youth and happiness.”

Again I heard the low, long rumble which had startled me at first. The clouds on my right were lifted. The first rays of the rising sun touched the camp with glory. I turned my eyes, brimming with tears, to meet its splendor, and when I looked again, the maid had vanished.

Mollie still slept on. The stern lines of San Jacinto stood out, more threatening than beautiful. Our camping horses neighed, restive under their night-long tethers. The trail we had passed the day before, remained a vague, still dreadful memory; but my heart was free from terror. I was conscious of a strange, exultant joy. What to me were crags and stones and bursting cinches? What--hardship, hunger, weariness? What--the matchless mountain vision we should soon behold?

_I had seen the Tahquitch Maiden!_

HERE ENDS THE TAHQUITCH MAIDEN A TALE OF THE SAN JACINTOS TOLD BY PHEBE ESTELLE SPALDING. THE DECORATIONS BY JEAN OLIVER. PUBLISHED BY PAUL ELDER & COMPANY AND PRINTED FOR THEM BY THEIR TOMOYE PRESS, UNDER THE DIRECTION OF JOHN HENRY NASH, IN THE CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO, DURING THE MONTH OF JULY AND YEAR MCMXI.

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Transcriber’s note:

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.