The Little Lady of Lagunitas. Richard Savage

repaired by any individual experience of life. Maternity has been a mere physical epoch of her dreary womanhood. The current of her days in narrow channels sluggishly flows toward its close.

      Even the laughing child runs away from the young "pathfinder." She furtively peers at him from the shelter of the graceful vines and rose bowers of her playground.

      Maxime has exhausted the slender library of his friend. In the peaceful evening hours he listens to weird stories of the lonely land of the Far West—early discovery, zealous monkish exploration, daring voyages in trackless unknown seas, and the descent of curious strangers. Bold Sir Francis Drake, Cabrillo, Viscaino, Portala, the good Junipero Serra of sainted memory, live again in these recitals.

      Day by day passes. No news from the Americans at bay in the wilds of the Klamath. By courier the Don has heard of Castro's feeble moves. He toils along with his cavalry, guns, and foot soldiers, whom Fremont defied from behind the rocky slopes of Hawk's Peak. The foreigners are all conspiring.

      A cloud of government agents are scouring the valleys for aid to send a column to attack Fremont. It had been a pride of Don Miguel's military career to assist warlike Vallejo to drive the foreigners from Monterey in 1840. He is ready for the fray again.

      The Commandante gnashed his teeth when he heard, in 1842, at Lagunitas, that the strangers had returned. He remembers the shameful day of October 19, 1842, when the Yankee frigates covered Monterey with their guns, while Commodore Jones hoisted the stars and stripes for a day or so. Always before the English.

      Though it was disowned, this act showed how easily the defenceless coast could be ravaged. Many times did he thank the Blessed Virgin that his domain was far away in the inland basin. There his precious herds are safe from the invader.

      There is danger for Valois in the Commandante's scowl when the saddest May day of his life comes. A rider on relay horses hands him a fateful despatch.

      "Curse the Gringos!" He strikes his table till the glasses ring.

      There are five huge Yankee war vessels in Monterey harbor. It is too true. This time they have come to stay. Padre Francisco softly makes his exit. He keeps Maxime in cover for a day or so.

      Bit by bit, the details come to light. The SAVANNAH, PORTSMOUTH, CYANE, LEVANT, and CONGRESS bear the flag of Commodore Sloat. This force can crush any native army. All communication by sea with Mexico is now cut off. The Californian Government is paralyzed.

      Worse and worse, the wild Klamath warriors have failed in their midnight dash on Fremont. He is now swinging down the valley—a new danger to Maxime.

      What means all this? The perplexed Don knows not what to do. From his outposts come menacing news. The battery of the PORTSMOUTH commands the town of Yerba Buena. San Diego, too, is under American guns. The CYANE is victorious there, and the CONGRESS holds San Pedro. The political fabric is so slight that its coming fall gives no sign. The veteran Commandante receives an order to march, with every available man, to join General Castro. He feels even his own domains are now in danger. He communes long with the padre. He musters every vaquero for their last campaign under the Mexican eagle.

      Miguel Peralta growls with rage. He learns the English liner COLLINGWOOD has arrived, a day or so too late—only another enemy. Still, better temporary English rule than the long reign of the grasping Yankee. The Don's self-interest, in alarm, is in the logical right this time.

      How shall he protect his property? What will he do with his family? He knows that behind him the great Sierras wall the awful depths of the Yosemite. The gloomy forests of the big trees appall the stray traveller. The Utes are merciless in the day of their advantage, and the American war vessels cut off all escape by sea to Mexico. All the towns near the ocean are rendezvous of defiant foreigners, now madly exultant. To the north is the enemy he is going out to fight.

      Padre Francisco advises him to leave the rancho in his charge. He begs him to even let the young American prisoner remain.

      Lagunitas may be seized, yet private property will be respected. Young Valois may be a help to considerate treatment. After council with his frightened spouse, Don Miguel rides off to the rendezvous near Santa Clara. He curbs his passion from prudence only, for he was on the point of making Valois a human tassel for a live-oak limb.

      The padre breaths freer.

      Day after day elapses. Under a small body-guard both the padre and Maxime ride the domain in freedom. Juanita Peralta shuts herself up in the gloomy mansion, where she tells her beads in the shadow of the coming defeats.

      Rich and lovely Lagunitas is yet out of the theatre of action. Its lonely inhabitants hear of the now rapid march of events, but only defeated riders wander in with heavy tidings.

      Fremont has whirled back once more and controls Suiter's Fort and Sonoma. The ablest general of California is powerless. Gallant Vallejo is now a prisoner. His scanty cannons and arms are all taken. Castro's cavalry are broken up or captured. Everywhere the foreigners gather for concerted action. It is a partisan warfare.

      Don Miguel's sullen bulletins tell of Castro's futile attempt to get north of the bay. Since Cabrillo was foiled in landing at Mendocino in 1543, the first royal flag floating over this "No Man's Land" was Good Queen Bess's standard, set up in 1579 by dashing Sir Francis Drake. He landed from the Golden Hind. In 1602 the Spanish ensign floated on December 10 at Monterey; in 1822 the third national ensign was unfurled, the beloved Mexican eagle-bearing banner. It now flutters to its downfall.

      Don Miguel warns the padre that the rude "bear flag" of the revolted foreigners victoriously floats at Sonoma. It was raised on July 4, 1846. Castro and Pio Pico are driven away from the coast. They only hold the Santa Clara valley and the interior. There is but one depot of arms in the country now; it is a hidden store at San Juan. Far away in Illinois, a near relative of the painter and hoister of the "bear flag" is a struggling lawyer. Todd's obscure boyhood friend, Abraham Lincoln, is destined to be the martyr ruler of the United States. A new star will shine in the stars and stripes for California, in a bloody civil war, far off yet in the mystic future.

      In the narrow theatre where the decaying Latin system is falling, under Anglo-Saxon self-assertion, the stern logic of events teaches Don Miguel better lessons. His wild riders may as well sheathe their useless swords as fight against fate.

      The first blood is drawn at Petaluma. A declaration of independence, rude in form, but grimly effective in scope, is given out by the "bear flag" party. Fremont joins and commands them. The Presidio batteries at San Francisco are spiked by Fremont and daring Kit Carson, The cannon and arms of Castro are soon taken. On July 7, Captain Mervine, with two hundred and fifty blue-jackets, raises the flag of the United States at Monterey. Its hills reecho twenty-one guns in salvo from Sloat's squadron.

      On the 8th, Montgomery throws the national starry emblem to the breeze at the Golden Gates of San Francisco. The old PORTSMOUTH'S heavy cannon roar their notes of triumph.

      Valois remains lonely and inactive at Lagunitas. His priestly friend warns him that he would be assassinated at any halting place if he tried to join his friends. In fact, he conceals his presence from any wayfaring, Yankee-hunting guerillas.

      Don Miguel is bound by his military oath to keep the field. A returning straggler brings the crushing news that the San Juan military depot has been captured by a smart dash of the American volunteers under Fremont and Gillespie. And San Diego has fallen now. The bitter news of the Mexican War is heard from the Rio Grande. A new sorrow!

      Broken-hearted Don Miguel bravely clings to his flag. He marches south with Castro and Pico, The long weeks wear along. The arrival of General Kearney, and the occupation of San Diego and Los Angeles, are the prelude to the last effort made for the honor of the Mexican ensign. Months drag away. The early winter finds Don Miguel still missing. Commodore Stockton, now in command of the powerful fleet, reinforces Fremont and Gillespie. The battles of San Gabriel and the Mesa teach the wild Californians what bitter foes their invaders can be. The treaty of Coenga at last ends the unequal strife. The stars and stripes wave over the yet unmeasured boundaries of the golden West. The Dons are in the conquerors' hands. After the fatal