CHAPTER FIVE
THE TEMPLE OF LOVE IN THE LAND OF FIRE
The watchers on the top of Mount Diablo looked anxiously for sunrise the morning Yermah and his followers rowed slowly across San Francisco Bay, hugging the shorelines until the mouth of the Sacramento River was reached.
Four times in the year the early visitor to Mount Diablo sees the “Shadow of the Devil” cast a triangular outline against its grizzled peak. The contacts last but a second and fade like a breath of mist from a looking-glass.
All of the cluster of piny hills which surrounds Diablo like brilliants around a stone of the first water are still in darkness, and the two large valleys at either side seem an indistinct blur, when the heavy, phantom-like shadow is thrown on the scene, slantingly, clear, and sudden.
On the right side of the mountain, the light nearest the black line that accentuates the shadow is palest yellow, shading gradually into green, until it is lost in the yellow-brown of the hills. To the left the line is reddish, and the shadow blue-black.
That the triangle shaped itself perfectly, and gave good omen of the enterprise in hand, was evident from the excitement among the men whose duty it was to signal the good news to the Observatory tower in Tlamco, and also to the fleet in the bay and river.
Without mishap or deterrent incident the expedition found its way up the river past the bog-rushes, or tules, which gossip among themselves throughout the year. Occasionally the cry of a lone bittern or loon warned the invaders of a priority of claim upon the sustenance hidden by the murky waters or along the grassy banks.
The wild things were startled and much distressed by such unaccustomed tumult, but their feeble protests failed to disturb the serenity of the human contingent secure in a might-made right to be the over-lords of all less gifted creatures. When they arrived at the point which is now occupied by the city of Stockton, the entire party disembarked, and, taking to the saddle, pushed on with as little delay as possible.
Who can describe springtime in California? From Yuma to the Klamath what waving of leafy banners, what marvelous music of bird-song, what conquest of grass-blades, what routing of first usurpers!
Mystical California! Where the Ice Age never came, and where the magnetism of pre-historic times still lingers to attract race skandhas which shall begin the upward spiral of a new sub-race great in psychological possibilities!
The days of peonage have passed forever. The cavaliers and the padres were oppressed by the Aztec; he, in turn, suffered at the hands of the Argonaut.
Over the surface of placer and quartz mines, vines, fig-trees and olives hide the scars made by sturdy miners, and dispute prestige with the golden grains which have been the staff of life to many alien born, and the end is not yet.
The California of Cabrillo’s day was a continuous flower-garden from north to south. It must have been fair to view before mission sheep and horses tramped down the hills, where once only the grizzly bear and deer roamed unafraid long after the memory of Atlantis itself had been lost in accumulating centuries.
The early mariners of our dispensation called the southern hills the “Land of Fire,” because of the blaze at poppy-time—the copo del oro of the padre and cavalier, the Yankee gold-cup, the Russian eschscholtzia. Then as now the yellow lupines, loved by the rag-tag-and-bobtail of the insect world, flourished beside the blue and purple blossoms of more pretentious claims, flirting with daintier bees and butterflies.
The mints are a family of pedigree, and with all their kith and kindred they camped in clans about field and wood. Sage, thyme, and savory have always been well spoken of for yeoman service, while rosemary and lavender are beloved of the poets.
California has both white and purple sweet wild mint, and her sage-bushes yield to the bees honey next to that made from clover for richness and whiteness. Everywhere on the trail Yermah’s companions found the Yerba Buena, which name in later years was applied to their beloved Tlamco.
There were no quartz or gravel mines in those days. The battea of the Mexican and the horn-spoon of the “forty-niner” had no place in the pack-train—for the auriferous gravel had not been thrown to the surface in great ridges, and the blue veins which are the natural beds for gold were in some instances thousands of feet below the surface.
The combined action of air, water, sunshine, frost and earthquake were yet to disintegrate the matrix of quartz and set the precious metals free, or else to ingulf them in tons of molten lava after vaporizing them in the bowels of the earth.
Time has wrought many of these changes since, and the heavy rains have washed the light silica into the water courses, and thence to the valleys, thus forming the soil and gravel which has yielded gold in this sun-down land.
It was here that the early prospector found his reward, and it is here also that the battle over the disposal of the débris left by hydraulic process has been fought out by miner and husbandman.
Then the cactus family, those outcasts of the desert which are said to have survived the last glacial period, flourished in all their quaint ugliness. By long centuries of adaptation of scanty means to the ends of growth, the cactus has discarded its leaves and developed a fleshy stem, cylindrical, rectangular, triangular, flat, or round, but always armed with long needles. As a compensation, it bears exquisite blossoms of dainty tissue pistils and yellow ravelings of stamens, while its fruits might have been the golden apples of Hesperides.
Akaza directed his party to take a trail leading to the south side of the Merced River, nearly two thousand feet lower than the route followed by tourists of later times. Suddenly from out one of the gray-green clusters of cacti darted a coarse-plumaged bird, marked with brown and white specks on the upper part, while the lower portion of its body was a dingy white.
Oghi gave chase immediately, but it distanced him, with insolent flinging of sand and dust which quite surprised this intrepid hunter. He did not know whether to be frightened or ashamed of himself. At an encouraging word from Yermah, he laid his ears back close to his head and again tried the chase. The bird manifested no disposition to fly or to leave the trail.
The trumpeter blared a command to halt, and the entire expedition came to a standstill.
“Dismount for refreshment and rest, first giving attention to the horses,” was the word passed along the line.
Soon the tamanes were bustling about and making necessary arrangements for Yermah’s comfort, while he and Akaza were intent upon examining the covert from which the road-runner started. A shout brought Setos and Orondo to his side, and after them, one by one, the whole party.
“I am of opinion,” said Setos, “that this strange bird, or beast, intended to eat the rattlesnake it had killed.”
“Not so,” returned Akaza. “The body has been pecked full of holes and the bird was evidently about to abandon it when disturbed by Oghi.”
“See how well the creature has outlined a circle in laying these pieces of cactus leaves around the snake,” remarked Orondo, intently examining the crude architectural plan.
“Dost thou know anything about its habits?” inquired Yermah, turning to one of the piloting tamanes.
“Yes, my master. This bird is the natural enemy of rattlesnakes. It remains concealed until the reptile is fast asleep in the warm sand. With its sharp bill it is easy to take off part of a cactus leaf, as thou seest. Instinct teaches how to place them in a circle. This done, it throws caution to the wind and rouses the snake. Then there is a battle royal. The snake can not crawl over the cactus needles and finally dies of its own bite.”
“Does the bird eat any portion of its victim?” asked Setos.
“Nothing except the eyes. The remainder of the body is scattered about in the sand, as thou seest.”
“Oghi will bring him back captive, but, I fear me, badly mutilated.”
“The ocelot will never catch him. These birds outfoot a thoroughbred. They are quicker, shyer, more alert even than Oghi. Besides, the smell of them is quite enough for a fastidious animal.”
It was long after, and when the column was once more on the move, that Oghi came back—with his tongue hanging out; his tail between his legs; evidently disgusted and thoroughly fagged.
Arriving at what is now called Cold Springs, the party began the ascent of the Chowchilla Mountains. Trees begin here—Sequoia gigantea,—of world-wide fame, but their habits were not new to the men of this expedition.
Long before there were written words to express the ideas of man, the forest has furnished symbols of the various stages of human existence. The pliancy of youth, the exuberant strength of maturity, the decay of age, have suggested eloquent parallels between man and the tree.
In contemplating the monarchs of the woods the greatest poets and the denizens of the untracked forests have risen together to the same heights of imagery and the same tokens of emotion and sentiment.
Who can resist the silence, the whispering, the soughing, the writhing, the twisting and groaning of a pine tree, from the first flicker of a needle until the whole growth is in a Titanic struggle with the vagrant wind. The onset tests the strength of root, bole, branch and tendril to their utmost, then suddenly departs, leaving each needle erect and still as if listening to the music of the stars.
In all ages, and among all people, certain groves have been held sacred. The tree-alphabet of the Chinese, the curling roofs of the truncated pagodas, the numerous legends of the tree and vine, symbolizing life, are universal testimonials of this ancient veneration.
The trees giving shelter to Yermah defied the Ice Age and escaped destruction in the flood. There are giants in Mariposa Grove to-day contemporaneous with the Star of Bethlehem and the departing grandeur of Egypt. The green spires of this living forest, three hundred feet high, filter the air through innumerable branches, making one shiver at their mysterious whistle, like the rustling silk robes of an unseen company.
The mystic and appalling are there as well. How often in active life the specter stands among men and trees!
The very strength gained by such close lifting of fibers during decades of existence will not permit these giants to seek rest prone upon the welcoming breast of Mother Earth. Still must they stand, bleached by sun, beaten by rain, and buffeted by winds, leading a spectral existence when remains of other members of the forest have silently sunk to rest, and are no longer distinguishable in substance from the very soil from which they sprung.
For a century or so there is a struggle among the children of the fallen monarch. At last but few remain, to become giants in their turn—set on the rim of the pit formed by the decaying roots of their ancient ancestor. Rings of this kind can still be found, showing the broken roots projecting like the staves of a barrel, overgrown with ferns and wild oxalis, or filled to the brim with fresh spicy redwood sprouts.
No one who visits the Yo-Semite to-day, can imagine the abundance in early times of wild flowers and luxuriant grasses reaching up to the saddle-girths, or the almost total absence of undergrowth and brush in the groves, thus affording clear, open views from either side. The valley lies nearly in the center of the State, north and south, midway between the east and west bases of the Sierras.
Not a sound broke the impressive stillness as Yermah caught his first grand view from Inspiration Point, save occasional chirps and songs of birds, or the low, distant sigh of waterfalls in the vertical-walled chasm below. Here and there was a dark yellow pine rooted in the crevice, and clinging tenaciously to its dizzy elevation. The wind swept these trees to and fro, and there was a faint, plaintive murmur in their leaves as of pain.
Yermah did not notice that coveys of grouse beat the air with their wings in clumsy and obstinate flight, nor did he see that deer sprang up here and there, making for the undergrowth, lying in an opposite direction. He reined his horse sharply out of the green forest and stood upon a high jutting rock overlooking a rolling, uplifting sea of granite mountains of a beautiful pearl-gray. The colors were cold in effect—all the character being given by the vertical parallel lines of gray, brown, and black which stripe a portion of the walls.
The sun winked at them from behind the pine-trees on the top of the hills, and threw shimmering lances among the cliffs and crags, burnishing up their edges. Its rosy tints etched furrows on the mountain’s face, seeming to take pride in bringing out strongly the wrinkles which the master of the hourglass and scythe had been busily engaged upon for so many thousand years.[3]
The first impressive thought was that the granite ledges were standing pale and dumb before their Creator! The towers, the domes, the spires, the battlements, the arches, the white columns of solid granite surging up into the air came to everlasting anchor! The silence seemed to quiver with sound, just as the warm air shimmered without stir all along the rocky outlines. The scene conveys to the soul of man through the eye what might the orchestra of heaven through the ear, were peals of thunder compassed into harmonious notes of music. As the king of day rode farther out, he gently touched the falls of Upper Yo-Semite, transforming a downpour of crystals into tears of liquid silver, which the winds whirled into fantastic wraiths against the frowning cliffs.
All that was mortal in the visitor swept back; all that was immortal surged to the front, and bowed down in awe.
“Here speaks the voice of God; and here His power is manifest.”
It was Akaza’s voice that broke the silence.
“Hail! smiling morn that tips these hilltops with alchemic gold! Teach us the secret of thy magic.”
Again it was Akaza’s words.
“Here we have visual evidence of the power and glory of the Supreme Ruler. The majesty of His handiwork is in that testimony of rocks.”
A softening haze hung over the valley, and the clouds partly dimmed the higher cliffs and mountains. Obscurity of vision increased the reverential mood of the party. A peculiarly exalted sensation seemed to fill their minds, and their eyes swam with fellowly drops of emotion, though their tongues refused their office. By common impulse they pushed forward, and coming down back of Cathedral Rocks, found themselves at nightfall near the valley’s mouth, with El Capitan on the left and Bridal Veil Falls on the right.
On the plains of the San Joaquin, sixty miles below, El Capitan had been first sighted, and now they gazed curiously at its bare, smooth sides, entirely destitute of vegetation, towering above their heads fully three thousand feet—a solid mass of granite, set squarely out into the valley, as if meaning to bar their passage.
Here they were met by a delegation of Monbas accompanied by their own runners. After listening to an address of welcome, they were invited to meet the high-priestess, Kerœcia, at Mirror Lake, higher up the valley.
“This glorious sun gives light to the ceremony of purification by fire, demanding the presence of all our people, else had they been here to give welcome to our friends. We are bidden to serve thee in the name of the high-priestess, and make familiar the grandeur of this noble temple,” said Ben Hu Barabe, the Civil Chief.
“Accept our humble thanks and faithful obedience,” responded Yermah.
“May the warmth and light flooding us genially be an augury of felicitous days to come,” said Orondo.
“May our inmost thoughts be in harmony with Divine Will,” added Akaza, while Setos called attention to a chucah, a curious basket-like structure, suspended from a tree near where he stood. Upon examination, it was found to contain a parchment scroll filled with a detailed report of the runners’ journey and reception.
“The Monbas will remain only long enough to ascertain and comply with the wishes of the Azes, after the ceremonies now in progress cease,” continued Ben Hu Barabe. “The emissary, Eko Tanga, comes on mischief bent, and we must be ready to meet him.”
The determined tone and angry scowl indicated the sentiments of the speaker.
“When once outside these sacred precincts, we have matters of moment to discuss with thy leaders,” said Yermah.
“We are pledged to the leadership of the high-priestess, and humbly await her pleasure. She will hear thee fully,” was the response made by the young warrior.
There was something in his loyal speech which impressed Yermah greatly. He looked at him with an eye of favor, and asked him to show the way up the valley.
Rahula and Ildiko, refreshed by a night’s rest, accompanied by Orondo and Setos, recrossed the valley to view Bridal Veil Falls. The women were in raptures at the sight of the great falls, and insisted that their palanquins should be lowered frequently, to enable them to examine the graceful undulating sheets of spray. It fell in gauze-like folds, expanding, contracting and glittering in the sunlight like a veil of diamonds. Then changing into one vast and many-colored cloud, it threw its mystic drapery over the falling torrent, as if to shroud its unspeakable beauty.
Down the water leaps in one unbroken chain to an immense bowlder-formed cauldron below, where it boils and surges furiously, throwing up volumes of spray, while the sun haloes the abyss with two or more gorgeous rainbows. The swaying from side to side under the varying pressure of the wind, and the jarring roar of the water, thrilled and hushed the beholders into silent, spellbound admiration.
Yermah followed the north wall on past the Three Brothers which rise in steps, one behind the other, with their heads turned in the same direction.
The lofty columnar rock called Washington Tower has diamond-like cascades, which tumble down the sides of the Royal Arches more than two thousand feet. These wing-like spans form a sort of lion’s head, not unlike the winged lions of Nineveh.
With the column which forms an angle to Teneya Cañon, they seem intended for a base of adequate magnitude to support the North Dome.
The mighty powers of Nature, which have wrought such wonders in this region, cleft this tower in twain, and disposed of the fragments in a manner as mysterious as it must have been awful.
On the opposite side of Teneya Cañon is Half Dome—a perfectly inaccessible crest. From a distance one might fancy that the stone-cutter’s art had been brought to bear upon its perfectly rounded summit. Upon closer inspection it is found that Time has been the sculptor. The ages have cut out huge concentric layers of granite, and scattered them about in picturesque confusion.
Yermah rode on up the cañon until his ears caught the notes of a folk-song; then he dismounted and, fastening Cibolo to a live-oak, made his way toward the music. Astonishment and delight transfixed his gaze.
At his feet lay the “Sleeping Waters,”[4] embowered by trees, and environed on high by the dome already described. This water course leaps from crag to pool, until it reaches equilibrium, and the surface of the lake is as motionless and smooth as a mirror. The reflected domes, peaks and trees are seen on its glassy bosom in perfect outline, seemingly five hundred fathoms down, in exact representation of the beauties that reach one mile into the air!
Yermah stood spellbound, not so much by this stupendous grandeur as by the scene being enacted before him. He was so intently regarding it that he scarcely saw or felt the shower of flint-headed arrows which fell in profusion and ruffled the surface of the lake.
His eyes were riveted on a young woman who was in the act of speeding a golden arrow over the heads of three other girls of nearly her own age, and who were putting off from shore in a crescent-shaped boat, which they propelled with long silvery oars. They were chanting softly, and the air was redolent with the perfume of flowers, which completely filled the boat, hanging in graceful profusion from prow and stern, in wreaths of all sizes and colors.
The boat moved like a thing instinct with life, and as it disappeared on the opposite side, Yermah’s tense gaze made itself felt on its object. Kerœcia moved uneasily, and then looked fixedly into the water stretched out before her. She first saw her own image, then beside it the ideal of her dreams—a helmeted figure, reflected full-length in the limpid stream.
His tunic was of purple cloth, confined at the waist by a wide striped silk sash, which tied over the left hip and hung in long, heavy, fringed ends. The short, full skirt was of orange silk, with a wide band of embroidery around the bottom, and underneath were long, closely-woven woolen leggins of purple. The feet were protected by sandals with jeweled sides and straps across the instep. From his shoulders hung a leopard-skin cloak, double-faced, so that it was alike on both sides.
He wore a square breastplate of stones, containing twelve jewels, proclaiming that he was Master of the twelve councilmen, and ruled continuously while the sun traveled through the twelve signs of the zodiac. At his side hung a burnished bronze sword, with a beautifully engraved scabbard, delineating a lion hunt from meet to finish.
At first Kerœcia was fascinated, then a feeling of fear stole over her. She made a movement as if to fly, but in turning stood face to face with Yermah. An inarticulate sound died on her lips as she started back amazed and fearful. Her wide-eyed vision and strained attention searched the countenance of the pale and agitated man, who stood so near her that she felt the radiating warmth of his body. He remained motionless, but she shrank back, and was momentarily rooted to the spot.
With a regal sweep of the arm, he bared his head, and with his right hand made the hierophant sign of command. He opened the hand, palm outward, the first two fingers pointing upward. He bowed profoundly, and carried the helmet hand to his heart lightly.
Kerœcia quickly comprehending his intent as well as his rank and station, courteously made the Atlantian sign of submission.
Yermah recognized it by a downward movement of his open right hand.
“Pleasing in my sight, and welcome to all the Monbas, is the Servitor of Aztlan,” she said. “He who created the four elements forbid that fatigue or discomfort should be thy portion.”
“It were an earthy spirit which could be mindful of the physical in this magnificent temple,” replied Yermah.
His calm, even tones quieted and reassured her completely.
“Have none of my fellows shown thee courtesy? Thy exalted station and goodness of heart demand much.”
“Ample consideration met us at the newel-post of this wondrous structure. It were a puny effort indeed that would fail to convey such welcome as the season and occasion warrant. In harmony with this spirit, I have stolen away from my companions and have sought audience direct with thee. If ill-considered abruptness gives rise to inharmonious thought, forgive me. The head, and not the heart, is at fault.”
“Offense were not possible with this intent. And I were an unworthy handmaiden should I harbor ill will on this day, holiest of all the year to the Monbas.”
“I stand athirst for knowledge of the sacred rite already partially witnessed. Is it lawful for an alien to know its import?”
“We who find divinity in the flowers, the birds, the sunshine, the trees, the rocks, the streams, and the hills, have no secrets apart from any living thing. But before thy special question, tell me of thy comrades. Shall I face them here?”
“In this place, and soon. They skirted the southern wall. The women came in chairs, lest fatigue should render them unfit to give heed to thy many accomplishments. Tell me the office of the three graces in the flower-laden boat.”
“All the ills of my people are consigned to those flowers. The ark in the center contains a symbol of the all-pervading essence of creation, and when the sun comes high enough to send a vertical ray into this ark, the flowers which have been collected for the past three days will be sacrificed by fire; and then we can go hence happy and content, free from evil tendency within and without. Our faith is simple. We try to live in harmony with the laws of Life and Love.”
“An artist who revels in the beauties of creation receives direct the thoughts of the Eternal Father,” returned Yermah, reverently.
“A child inhaling the fragrance of a flower receives in the process of transmutation the thoughts of the Creator.”
“Without the intervention of planetary influence?”
“The open flower, with its sun-rayed form, is to vegetation what the sun is to the planets, and as man is to animal life. Flowers crown Nature’s dominions.”
“The soul of man crowns all animate things,” persisted Yermah.
“When he crushes a beetle he destroys the life of what may some day be his brother,” she answered, with a smile.
“Dost thou believe in transmigration? I am agreed with thee that life is a vibration of Divine Will, moving in a spiral, but physical man is the lowest rung contacted by the ego.”
“Oh, say not so! Is not the ego a ray of the creative energy itself? Thinkest thou the human family the only emanation of Divinity worthy to contact its Creator?”
“Yes,” he answered; “and only then by aspiring to a spiritual plane.”
“How many planes dost thou allot to man?”
“Three—the physical, the mental and the spiritual. A novice must perform the nine labors in order to achieve perfection. Each plane is threefold, like the alchemical sun, whose prototype blesses us with its preserving rays. Unfold to me the principles of thy system.”
“The first degree is that of the crystallized mineral, typifying death. The rocks and stones are of both sexes. Their sympathies and antipathies constitute their laws of natural selection determined by the vegetation produced from their soil. The second degree pertains to the subjective spaces of the mineral world—the tiny races within the higher round of that zone. Each life-atom is busy at its own appointed task, happy beyond conception in its lowly spiritual state. The third degree is the vegetable kingdom. The leaves are so placed that a line wound around the stem of a plant, and touching the petiole of each leaf would be a spiral. Where the leaves are in two rows, it is one-third the circumference, and so on in successive trines.”
“No one could be more loyal than I to the great family of endogens,” said Yermah. “They all go by threes, and are correlated to the Trinity. We make the lily the type of purity; the palm, the type of perfect life, which is service. The grains give the staff of life; the grasses cover the earth, and feed our animals. The onion not only contains the immortal elixir, but in its circles represents the growth of the universe, and the orbits of the planetary system.”
“The exogens,” said Kerœcia, “are closer to our own lives. The rose gains in beauty as it loses its power of reproduction, and the flower which carpets our hillsides with patches of gold drops the calyx when it arrives at perfection. It lives with the sun—opening and closing with his coming and going, and is so delicate that we make it the symbol of the soul.
“In the fourth degree are the flower nymphs, disporting themselves like butterflies in the luminous ether of their round. Some bear resemblance to beautiful girls, but are bright green, with large heads and small bodies. In the full scale they show all the colors of the rainbow. The fifth degree is the animal kingdom; the sixth is semi-human; the seventh is man. Love is the only condition of creation—that love which is perfect equilibrium between thyself and the universe.”
Neither spoke for several moments; then Yermah said, with a sigh of contentment: “This is a veritable Temple of Love.”
“In very truth it is,” she returned; “and this is the season of renewal. It is the breeding-time of flowers and of the feathered tribes. Look here!”
She drew back a branch of eglantine, heavy with bloom, and nestled cozily in the fork of the parent stem was a tiny grayish-white mass of hair, fashioned into a nest by a gold-throated humming-bird. The mate industriously sipped honey from blossom to blossom, while the watcher on the nest put up its long, tube-like bill, waiting to be fed.
The birds twittered conjugal confidences unmindful of prying eyes. Disturbed at last by the voices, both balanced in air, leaving exposed to view two little spotted eggs, not larger than fine shot. They darted about in evident distress, keeping up a constant humming with their gauzy wings.
The man and woman paused but a second, and then passed on.
The Monbas believed in five sub-human kingdoms, peopled by entities. The mineral kingdom was represented by gnomes; the vegetable kingdom, by sylphs; the reptile, by fire or salamanders; water, by undines and fishes. Kerœcia’s followers were the forerunners of the ancient Druids and the modern gypsies.
The aim of all religions is to harmonize man with the laws which govern the universe. The Monbas did this by metempsychosis of the sub-human elements. They solved the great problem of absorbing into the astral system the pure psychic elements about them, and reached divinity by this process. It is for this reason that the gypsies never mingle with other civilizations. They go to nature direct for their wisdom, and keep away from cities for fear of losing their psychic powers.
On Good Friday, the gypsies still have their patriarch carry an ark or basket, in the bottom of which has been placed a Saint Andrews cross. Each member of the tribe lays a flower on the cross to abjure and protect him against evil influences—thus perpetuating the idea of the immaculate conception. The gypsies believe that the flowers give off metempsychosis and absorb disease.
Orondo, Setos, Rahula and Ildiko with a retinue of tamanes, a Monbas escort, and some burros laden with stout willow baskets and bags, skirted the southern side of the valley in passing Cathedral Rock and Spires.
There were splendid pitch-pine trees massed in the foreground, which being duplicated on the top of the cliffs, looked like a mere fringe of green thrown into relief against fleecy white clouds hurrying across the turquoise sky in pursuit of some fleeting phantom of that eerie region.
The travelers found it warm work to cross the Merced River, near by; but the cool sea-breezes began to blow up from the Golden Gate—for they were almost opposite, in a direct line from Tlamco. In pushing on to Mirror Lake, they followed the same path taken by Yermah. As they passed Indian Cañon, they looked up the deep gorge to the eastward and saw that here was the entrance and exit used by the Monbas.
As they neared the lake, they looked off in the distance to where Cloud’s Rest connects with the High Sierra this chain of matchless pearls from the mouth of Nature. Around the top of this extremely elevated, steep, barren ridge hover continuously a bevy of cottony clouds, while a lace-like scarf of fog softens the hard, unyielding lines, and makes them tempt the soul of man to feats of the greatest daring.
Presently was seen a thin, vapory line of smoke issuing from the direction in which the boat had disappeared. Instantly the roads seemed alive with people, coming from all directions, and making the welkin ring with melodious sound. There were men, women and children, gay in holiday attire, singing and gesticulating in the very ecstasy of joy. They crowded the banks of the lake and waited expectantly.
At length a slender silver arrow flew up from the smoke clouds; then, another; and again, a third. This was followed by a deafening blast of trumpets, drums, cymbals, tambourines, pipes, and ear-splitting whistles, as the priestesses re-embarked and slowly approached. The first splash of the silvery oars was answered by a shout of triumph from the opposite shore, followed by a song, in which three voices joined with equal zest.
Then the crowd fell back, making room for Kerœcia and the tall, fair stranger. He was intent and alert; she, smilingly gracious. As the boat anchored, she raised her hand in blessing, for which Yermah reverently uncovered.
The priestess stepped forward to receive an urn delicate and fragile as the ashes of roses it contained, when a treacherous pebble turned her ankle, and she would have fallen had not Yermah caught her by the arm in time to prevent a painful strain upon the supporting muscles and tendons. It was the unstudied act of a man of ready tact and faultless breeding.
The hillsides and rock walls rumbled and echoed the burst of cheering which greeted this feat. Again he uncovered and stood in a respectful attitude until the three nimble-footed young women were on shore. They, catching the infection, shared in the general excitement. By a common impulse they arranged themselves in line, and stood with Yermah and Kerœcia, bowing acknowledgments and participating in dumb show with the spontaneous outpouring of good will.
“Alcyesta, Suravia, Mineola, accept the homage offered by Yermah, the Dorado, of Aztlan, lately arrived from Tlamco,” said Kerœcia. “These are my trusted hand-maidens. Receive service from them as from mine own hands.”
“Such grace and fair fellowship bankrupts the offices of speech. Alone, I am powerless to make adequate return; but here I have allies who will amply requite thee,” saying which he turned to make room for his companions, who had approached in the general confusion unobserved by the company. Setos and Orondo uncovered and waited back of their countrymen.
The gnomes, salamanders, sylphs, and undines of fairyland, peeping out from each leaf and fragrant bloom, never beheld a lovelier vision than that of Kerœcia and Ildiko, as they stood facing each other.
Kerœcia’s long, wavy bronze-red hair was confined by a jeweled band, with three white ostrich tips in the center. She was gowned in simple white, long and flowing. Around her neck were seven strands of pearls fastened to a medallion composed of ruby, topaz, emerald, sapphire, amber, amethyst and turquoise. Encircling her slender waist was an enameled and jeweled girdle. The loose sleeves fell back from exquisitely shaped arms, ornamented with bracelets, while numerous rings adorned her taper fingers.
In her big Oriental eyes, shaded with long lashes, was a glint of the bronze which the sun brought out in her hair. A ripened peach is the only fitting comparison for her cheeks, and her tiny, even teeth glistened white between the perfectly formed and curved lips which in parting revealed them.
Ildiko, taller, and more slight, was a sharp contrast, her fuzzy white hair, eye-brows, and lashes contrasting with her shell-pink skin. The pale blue of her dress strengthened the color of her eyes, which were so well set back that a full interpretation of their language baffled the observer. There were embroideries and jeweled passementeries, the rich arrangement of which showed the detail of her toilet. A gauze head-dress supporting a thin veil, which fell well down over her back, helped the illusion. She skillfully tried to get full benefit of the roseate rays reflected by an umbrella held over her head by an attendant.
Yermah took her hand and placed it in Kerœcia’s outstretched palm, and then put both his own over them protectingly.
“May such love as sisters bear each other bind thee.”
Then bringing Rahula forward, he presented her. A dark-red head-band, glistening with jetted embroidery and drooping ear ornaments enhanced the luster of her iron-gray hair, and somewhat softened the expression of her wrinkled face. Not a facet of the jet sparkled brighter than her beady, black eyes, which were never quite in accord with her thin smiling lips.
Simple gold bands without ornament confined the locks of Alcyesta, Suravia, and Mineola, that of the first and last being dark and abundant, while Suravia’s hair was like spun gold in texture and color. These bands did not go all the way around the head, but terminated over each ear in medallions, jeweled and enameled in quaint design. Alcyesta wore pale yellow; Suravia, lavender; and Mineola, pink. A bright plaid sash was tied about each waist, and fell to the hem in the back. Sandals with pointed toes, reaching well over the instep, protected the feet.
The other women wore dresses of cotton cloth made like chemises. These were of four colors, and worn one over the other. The edges were variously ornamented, some with figures, others again with embroidery or saw-teeth appliqués of a different shade. Necklaces of beads, jeweled belts, earrings, bracelets and sandals were common to them all. Some wore crowns or other fanciful head-covering with bright feather ornaments, while others braided their hair in two loose plaits, and covered their heads with an indescribably fine-woven basket, highly ornate, which came to a point at the top.
The Highlander of to-day would appreciate and admire the markings of the cloth worn by these sturdy mountaineers. For the leaders, there were plaids of seven colors; for the next in rank, five colors; for governors of fortresses, four colors; for captains, three colors; for warriors, two colors; for the common people, one color.
The warriors carried shields of flexible bamboo canes bound firmly together, and covered with rawhide. These were ornamented with porcupine quills, tortoise-shell, mother-of-pearl, and ivory, inlaid and skillfully etched with mineral dyes, the rank of the wearer being cleverly revealed in this manner. The shields were invariably circular and convex in form. Worn next to the body, were plain white garments of coarse texture, and on their heads were high conical hats, very like the Astrakhan caps of to-day. Leggins much wrinkled and heavy sole-leather sandals completed their costume.
In the solemn hush, four stalwart warriors of the Monbas stepped forward and knelt upon the shore, grasping each other by the inner fore-arm, near the elbow. Kerœcia and the three priestesses carefully lifted the ark from the boat and placed it in the receptacle made by the interlocked arms.
Taking a few of the ashes left in the urn, Kerœcia mixed them with salt, which she stirred with an aspergillus made of medical herbs tied to a hazel stick on which the four spirits were carved. The salt and incense ashes were consecrated separately before using. She then took the four alchemical elements, salt, mercury, sulphur and nitrogen, and sprinkled them over the man holding a chalice representing water; an eagle, with a nimbus around its head representing air; a tree of life, representing fire; and the sword of Mithra, who annually immolates the sacred bull. These correspond to mind, matter, motion and rest.
The special kingdom of the gnomes is in the north; that of the salamanders, in the south; that of the sylphs, in the east; and that of the undines, in the west. They influence the four temperaments of man. The gnomes, the melancholic; the salamanders, the sanguine; the undines, the phlegmatic; the sylphs, the bilious. The Monbas abjured them by breathing, sprinkling, burning of perfumes, and by tracing a pentagram on the ground.
Kerœcia holding a pentacle in one hand, and taking in turn a sword, a rod, and a cup, faced the lake and said:
“Angel with the blind eyes, obey me, or pass away from the holy water! Work, winged bull, or return to earth, if thou wouldst not be pricked by this sword! Fettered eagle, obey this sign, or retire before my wrath! Writhing serpent, crawl at my feet, or be tortured by the sacred fire, and evaporate with the perfumes I am burning! Water, return to water; fire, burn; air, circulate; earth, return to earth—by the power of the pentagram, which is the morning star, and in the name of the tetragram, which is written in the center of the cross of light. Auma!”
In the Egyptian and Jewish religions, three vestal virgins guard the ark, typical of the Immaculate conception—in that the ark contains an aerolite, or Heaven-born stone. In Greek mythology, the three graces guard the sacred urn. The name Suravia signified the sun-way, or river of light; Alcyesta, the ark, chest, or urn floating on the celestial river; while Mineola, personated the divine soul-mind liberated in the ark.
The flint-headed arrow is a phallic symbol of thought, and when the Monbas shot arrows over water it was to destroy their unseen enemies; the lake, to them, representing mind. The passage of the sun out of the watery sign in the Spring equinox was the festival Kerœcia and her people were celebrating.