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On making inquiries at San José, they were informed that the party was encamped at a well known place on the San Joaquin. This piece of intelligence immediately decided Fremont to dispatch Carson and two companions to that section of country, while he and the remainder of the men would remain where they were and await his return.
"I'll stake my allowance of grog for the day," whispered Jake Irwin to the two others, "that that man in the stern-sheets there, handlin' the tiller, is Jose Leirya hisself, comin' ashore to make sure that the man is really dead, and to secure they there papers what Evans said he stole from the cabin; that's what's brought him back, I'll warrant.
He needs to think right, and we folks here can't teach him that way. Not even Father José. There's jest one thing to teach him, and that's Life itself on his own. If I figger right he'll flounder around. He'll hit snags. He'll get bumped, and, maybe, have some nasty falls. But it's the only way for a boy of his spirit, and weakness." "Weakness?" Jessie's echo came sharply.
By evil luck, this child began to squeal about his mother, having been petted hitherto, and wont to get all he wanted, by raising his voice but a little. And she put a dish-cloth under his head, and kissed him, and ran away again. Her name was Honour Jose, and she meant what was right by her master and mistress; but could not help being frightened.
One hundred and thirty years ago, the port of La Paz, in Baja California, lay baking in the sun. La Paz was then, as now, a little old town, with narrow, stony streets and adobe houses, standing amidst palms, and chaparral, and cactus. To this port of La Paz came, one eventful day, Don José de Galvez, envoy of the King of Spain.
His haggard face, the stern solemnity of his voice, the sweep of his long arms, the gleam of his deep-set eyes, and the vigor of his inexorable logic, drove that sermon home to the listeners. He was the keenest of critics, and often merciless. He was present at a camp-meeting near San Jose, but too feeble to preach. I was there, and disabled from, the effects of the California poison-oak.
He had made one bold plan after another, and had been forced to abandon each of them, and then mere chance had thrown José in his path. And now the instant he approached her she was about to elude him. He spoke a few hurried words to José. It was too early to go away; the pleasure of the day was scarcely at its height; he wished to entertain them; they must not go.
José was christened in the nearby church when three days old, and as two out-of-town bands happened to be in Kalamba for a local festival, music was a feature of the event. His godfather was Father Pedro Casañas, a Filipino priest of a Kalamba family, and the priest who christened him was also a Filipino, Father Rufino Collantes.
Ahead, on the left shore, a gap gouged out of the forest and a number of boats at the water's edge. "Guess that's it," panted Knowlton, shielding his eyes and squinting at the clearing. "One more day's journey, the Brazilian chap said. We've been two and a half." "One day's journey for six hardened rivermen, señor," corrected José.
"A boat!" exclaimed Mendouca anxiously, when the man had told what he had seen. "Are you quite sure?" "As sure as I am that I am now standing here speaking to you, senor," answered the man, in a tone of conviction. "Jose saw it also.
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