THE TOMALE MAN
The Chinaman with his one horse cart had just been making his daily round. Nan had been watching Li Hung chaffering with his countryman for some of the fresh fruits and vegetables, and now that the bargain was closed and the cart had bobbed off down the street she had gone to their own little orange grove and was standing contemplatively regarding some white orange-blossoms above her head. She was still dreaming of a husband for the señorita. "It would be so handy to get orange blossoms for a bride," she told herself, "easier," she continued with a little chuckle, "than to get a husband. It is a great pity that Carter is so young and Mr. Pinckney is so old," she thought. She looked down between the rows of trees to the mountains rising in solemn dignity beyond. "I wonder how the people who used to live here feel about it," she went on to herself. "I should have hated to give it up. I shall feel sorry when we have to." Then her thoughts flew to another garden in old Virginia, mountain girt, too, but now lying white under winter snows and showing no sign of life except when a Molly Cottontail leaped to cover leaving small footprints behind her. Place o' Pines, her favorite haunt, seemed childish and small. All of her previous life was dwarfed beside the larger experience of her present. There was much to miss yet she missed nothing. California had cast its spell upon her. To her youth's eagerness for the new it unfolded a constantly expanding growth. Even the crowds in the streets seemed larger each day than the day before. To her romantic love of the old the ancient missions, the remains of the Spanish settlements appealed strongly. They filled her with a delight such as the old countries alone can afford the lover of poetry, history and art. She sighed because the days were passing all too quickly, because but a little time remained of their stay in Los Angeles. "We must move on like the Indians," said Nan regretfully, "and I don't half like it."
In the midst of her reveries, she suddenly remembered that she had not seen Jack for some time. She wondered where the child was. She had an indistinct recollection of hearing Jack announce that she meant to go find the tomale man. They had discovered him the last time they had been down town with Carter, and they had enjoyed the hot Mexican preparation so much that Jack declared she meant to go buy some herself some day. Could she have chosen to-day for the expedition into the town?
Nan made for the house. "Where is Jack?" she asked. No one knew. Mary Lee had seen her talking to Li Hung. Jean had heard her say she was going somewhere and did not want any company. She would not tell where she was going. The señorita had seen her counting over her store of nickels. Taking her clues from all this Nan started forth. "It would never do to let her go down town by herself," she said. "She might get lost, but don't worry mother about it; I'll find her."
"Suppose you telephone over to Mrs. Roberts," suggested Miss Helen; "she may have gone there."
Nan called up, but no Jack had been there that morning. Garden, orchard and the surrounding streets were searched and all finally arrived at Nan's conclusion, so she started for the centre of the town where they had come across the tomale man. There he was with his corn husk packages neatly tied and filled with the delectable preparation so dear to the hearts of the Mexican. There was no Jack in sight as Nan came up. She wandered up and down trying to discover her sister and suddenly found herself in the midst of a queer street where she seemed to be transported to the other side of the globe. Here were shops innumerable displaying such strange wares that Nan stood still to wonder before she turned to flee. She was not timid, but to be surrounded by plodding Chinamen stubbing along in their queer shoes made her feel uncomfortable. One or two turned slanting eyes upon her but most passed her unconcernedly. Before a shop gay with banners and painted signs Nan paused, but in the masses of unknown objects which she could see by peering inside there was nothing that she recognized, and she went on passing all sorts of establishments, before which were set forth such wares as platters of fish, bunches of herbs and tubs of vegetables the like of which she had never seen before.
She would like to have penetrated further, to have stopped to look in at the Chinamen eating with chop sticks, and the Chinese women with such curiously arranged hair, but she scarcely dared, and satisfied that Jack had not strayed this way she retraced her steps and was once again out of China and in America. The tomale man still hawked his wares and the crowds were still hurrying to and fro, an interesting crowd, Nan thought, for so many nationalities were represented, but among them was no little bright-eyed girl answering to the name of Jack Corner.
"I might as well hunt for a needle in a hay-stack," thought Nan. "I'd better go back home for probably she is there by this time. Some day I shall get Carter or Mr. St. Nick to bring us to Chinatown where we can nose around and see everything we want."
She was so busy thinking of what she had seen that she reached the corner nearest home before she realized it, and was obliged to turn back a little. In doing this she caught sight of two figures down the street a little way; one was a small girl standing at bay before a boy about her own age who danced and pranced and flourished his fists shouting: "Ya! ya! ya! I've got you now."
Nan set out on a quick run. Surely this was Jack. She came up just in time to see the boy tweak off Jack's hat and throw it on the ground, but she also saw why he did not advance further, for whichever way he turned the steely point of a long sharp hat pin confronted him. Jack had chosen her own weapon and never had ventured from home without it since the day of her battle with the boy. The Boy she called him in her own mind. She had felt that this hour might come some day, but it never kept her within the limits of security. One might think that it would have been a small thing for a little boy to worst a girl of his own size, and so it might if fists were all that were to be considered; hat pins put a different face upon the affair. So though Jack was merely on the defensive, defend herself she could, and very ably.
"Jack Corner," cried Nan, "what are you up to?"
Jack was off her guard for a second, but the boy seeing that reinforcements had arrived, did not dare to make further attack. "Pick up my hat, won't you, Nan?" said Jack coolly, "and won't you get the tomales from behind me? I'm afraid I'll step on them. You'd better go home, boy," she remarked with a mocking laugh.
"Yes, you'd better go," said Nan. "What do you mean by teasing my little sister?"
"Ain't she done enough to make me tease her?" said the boy sullenly. "Ain't she nearly beat the life out of me?"
"So you're the boy, are you?" Nan looked at him interestedly. "Well, I can tell you that it won't be good for you to stay around here. There are too many of us to look after this little girl. Our Chinaman keeps a tub of scalding water ready for you if he catches you, and if you try to run away Mr. Barnwell has his automobile always on hand, and if that isn't enough I can easily call up a policeman. I won't answer for what the Chinaman will do if he once gets hold of you. They can do horrible things, you know. He may be on the lookout now." Nan peeped over the hedge as if to discover the lurking Li Hung. Her threats and suggestions of dark things had their effect, for the boy backed off, keeping his eye on the hat pin which Jack still pointed at him, and when at a safe distance he turned and fled.
"The next time, Jack," said Nan, "he'll not come alone, I can promise you that. Now, young lady, why did you abscond this way without leave? You know mother doesn't allow it."
"That's why I went," said Jack. "I was afraid she wouldn't let me go if I asked her, and I wasn't disobeying if she didn't say I couldn't, was I?"
"Well, in a way you weren't. Give an account of yourself. Where have you been?"
"To get some tomales from the Chili wagon. I brought you one, Nan, and one to the señorita."
"How do you know we'll like them?"
"Oh, you're sure to. If you don't care for yours you can give it to Mary Lee; she'll eat it whether she likes it or not because it is Spanish and because the señorita likes it. They have all sorts of things in them, funny things, the man told me; chicken and olives, and ever so many queer names I can't remember. He could speak English, and he was very nice and polite."
"That may be, but you ought to have been at home playing quietly like a nice well-behaved little girl. I went all the way down town to look for you. I thought you might have gone off somewhere by yourself."
"What made you think so?"
"I heard you say you were going after tomales some day. I should think you would have been scared, Jack, to wander off by yourself."
"I didn't wander; I went straight down to where we saw the Chili wagon. I wasn't scared, because it is easy to ask the way, and the cars take you right where you want to go. I don't see why people get so fussy over a little thing like that when everybody goes back and forth on the cars all day long. I must have come back just ahead of you, and it is a wonder I didn't see you."
"Probably I was just behind you all the way along. I went all around and I even got into Chinatown. It was tremendously interesting and I should like to have prowled around there longer, but I had you on my mind. We must get Carter or Mr. St. Nick to take us there some day. You feel as if you were really in a foreign country. I saw lots of beautiful things I wanted to buy, and lots of awful, queer-looking eatables I wanted to get away from. I don't see how they can eat such messes."
"Maybe they think that way about the things we eat."
"Probably they do, though I shouldn't think they would, for it is because there are such swarms of them in their own country that they can't get enough decent food and have to fall back on anything they can get whether it is good or not."
"I'm glad I'm not a Chinaman," said Jack reflectively.
"So am I," said Nan. "Tell me, where did you meet that boy?"
"Right here where I got off the car. I believe he saw me go in town by myself and waited around till I came back."
"I think it is very likely, and I shouldn't wonder if he tried again to do something mean."
"I'm not afraid."
"I don't suppose you are, but there may be no Carter or Nan next time and you may come off worse than you have these two times. You may thank your stars that I came along when I did."
"Oh, I don't know," returned Jack nonchalantly; "I had my hat pin, you know. I bought the longest, sharpest one I could find."
"Do you always carry it?"
"I do ever since that first day. I would have jabbed him good if he had come too near."
"But he might have kept you there for hours."
"Oh, no, for I would have called the first person that came along and would have made whoever it was send him off. I think next time I go out of the garden I'll carry a bottle of ammonia, and if he comes I'll throw it all over him."
"You might put his eyes out, and that would be horrible. No, don't do any such desperate thing. Make up your mind to stay where you belong and don't go off on these wild excursions by yourself."
"But I like to go. It's more fun to go by yourself, for then you can stop and look in at all the shop windows you want to, and if you want to ask questions of any one, there's nobody by to hurry you along and say you mustn't."
"Oh, Jack, Jack," said Nan, "there's no doing anything with you. Come along now and tell mother where you have been; you know that is what you will have to do."
There was no use in trying to squirm out of this duty as Jack well knew, so she went in and made her confession, received her lecture placidly and took her punishment stolidly. She was to stay at home from the next outing, wherever that might be. She was a nervous excitable child under some circumstances, but the expected never ruffled her; it was only the unexpected which did.
The expedition from which she was excluded was one which Jean was not allowed to undertake, either, as Mrs. Corner decided that they were too young for so hard a trip. Miss Helen, Mary Lee, and Nan were the only ones who would go in company of Carter and a guide. The girls could both sit a horse well and were fearless riders, so the journey to the mountains was not an enterprise which they dreaded in the least. Their own mountains might be less formidable but they were wild enough and had been the scene of more than one hardy experience. The trip would be extended to San Bernardino, although the mountain ride would begin from some point along the route.
"I am just wild to get on one of those little burros," announced Mary Lee.
Carter laughed. "Don't be too wild; you may regret it before your journey is over," and sure enough his prophecy came true, for not long after the mountain climb began around huge boulders, up the trail with great trees towering above them, Mary Lee began to feel uneasy, and to lose confidence in her mount. The leaping river, singing, surging, roaring, a hundred toned stream, had to be forded many times, the guide told them, and it was during one of these fordings that Mary Lee realized that she was right in not trusting her burro.
"I believe he is going to lie down," she cried out.
Carter turned his head. "Oh, no, not the dear little burro that you were so wild to ride."
"Stop teasing her," said Nan; "it is bad enough as it is."
"That was mean," Carter acknowledged; "I'll turn back and encourage her." This he did, but Mary Lee would have none of him when she had safely reached dry land, and dismissed him so curtly that he rode on without a word.
When at last a precipitous trail lay before them Mary Lee had lost all faith in the dear little burro, for he had displayed too many peculiarities along the way, and she declared she would not go a step further.
Mary Lee Had Lost all Faith in the Burro.
"But you must, Mary Lee," said Nan. "We aren't near the end yet. We all want to go to the top."
"Well go," said Mary Lee. "I'll wait here."
"By yourself?"
"Why not?"
"Oh, you mustn't; it wouldn't be safe."
"Nothing will hurt me, will it, Mr. O'Neill?" She appealed to the guide.
"Less'n you're skeered of Jack-rabbits and squirls and sich varmints," he replied.
"I'm not scared," maintained Mary Lee stoutly, "not in daylight."
"But you should not stay alone," warned her aunt. "I should not be satisfied to have you."
"I'll have the burro with me," answered Mary Lee half smiling.
"Great company, indeed," scoffed Nan. "You might see a rattlesnake or a tarantula."
"I might just the same if I were not by myself. I'd rather see them than ride another mile up the mountain on that stubborn little beast. I don't know what minute his heels might fly up and I be pitched clean over his head, or suppose he should take a notion to sit down on that fearsome trail, I'd die of fright. I'd as soon be bitten by a rattlesnake as to be tossed to eternity down the side of a cañon. No, sirree, I don't go up that mountain with Mars Burro. It will be as much as I can do to make the journey home from here. You all travel as far as you want to go and I'll wait for you. I'd much rather than not."
Miss Helen turned to the guide. "Do you think it is safe?"
"I don't see why not," he answered. "There ain't no creeturs likely to come around in daylight, nothin' that ought to skeer her, and we won't be gone more'n an hour or so."
"I'll change burros with you," said Carter, but to this Mary Lee would not listen. She was determined to go no further and further she would not go, so at last, after much parleying and the offer of one after another to stay with her, all departed and she was left sitting on a fallen log to feast her eyes upon the wonders of the forest. Here were great white-trunked sycamores draped with mistletoe, glossy-leaved live oaks, great alders and willows by the brawling stream and a flowery wilderness of blossoms in the open, alfiliria, bluish pink; golden poppies, lavender lilies, violets, tulips, a paradise for the wandering bees.
It was when the voices of her friends came only faintly from afar and she was watching the brown bees booming among the blossoms that Mary Lee first detected the monotonous strokes of an axe cleaving some huge tree. She was not the only human being in the wilderness then. At first she decided not to venture from her place, but after half an hour had passed she became a little lonely and the idea of human companionship seemed rather pleasant to contemplate. The bees, in their busy gathering of honey, droned so sleepily that they offered no excitement, although at first it had been interesting to watch them. Mary Lee loved all animals and would have tried to make friends with any who might have appeared, but beyond the friskings of an agile squirrel once in a while she had not seen any.
After some hesitation, as the steady chopping kept on, she arose from her seat and cautiously made her way toward the spot from whence the noise came. After a time she saw a man who was bringing his axe down with mighty strokes and who was too intent upon his work to notice the little figure so near till a voice by his side said: "That's a mighty big tree you're cutting down."
"Great fathers!" cried the man dropping his axe and looking at the little girl. "Where under the sun did you come from?"
"From just over yonder," replied Mary Lee. "The others have gone further up the mountain, but I wanted to rest and so I am waiting for them to come back. They will be here presently. I hoped I would see a Douglas squirrel, but I didn't. Did you ever see a water ousel? I have read about them and I would give anything to see one."
The man smiled. "Well, yes," he answered, "they're plenty around the streams and as to Douglas squirrels they've been capering about here all morning. They're about the liveliest creeturs ever I did see. You keep still a minute and maybe you'll get to see one. Aha, I thought so," for presently to Mary Lee's delight she saw the quick motions that indicated a presence in a tree just beyond where she was standing.
"Most folks out here call him a Pine squirrel," said the man. "This one's been a barkin' at me on and off all the morning. Hear him now: Pee-ah! Pee-ah! that's him."
Mary Lee listened and presently the little creature came nearer and nearer, this time angry at seeing a new intruder whose language he did not know, and as he made a sudden dash at the two humans, Mary Lee could see him distinctly.
"He is a lively one," the man remarked again. "Now, if you want to see one of them water thrushes I guess we can find one if you don't mind a rough little walk."
Mary Lee had no misgivings as she followed her guide and he, in return for her confidence, entertained her to the best of his ability. "How did you happen to know about these critturs?" he asked. "You ain't from these mountain parts, I know."
"No," returned Mary Lee, "I am from the East, from Virginia, but my aunt has been reading to us about the birds and beasts of California and those two I have been very anxious to see. We have been looking for them, and I am glad I shall have seen them first."
"Them squirrels is the out-beatingest critturs for not scaring," the man told her, "and they cut up more didos. I've spent many an hour watching 'em, and their tricks would make a horse laugh. As for your water thrush, he's a good fellow, too. Don't mind how cold the water is, nor how lonely the place, just give him a waterfall and he's happy. He'll sing, too, winter or summer, just as pleasant as can be; you just can't freeze him out."
"Have you always lived in the mountains?" asked Mary Lee as she followed along the rough way.
"No, I ain't, though I come mighty near to being a mountaineer. I was brought up on the coast and I figgered around this region up and down since I was a boy. Sometimes it ain't been healthy for me to stay in one place and I've lit out to another."
"Why, doesn't the climate of California agree with everybody?" asked Mary Lee guilelessly.
The man laughed and shook his head. "Depends on what your complaint is. Now my complaint always happened to be somebody else's complaint and that's what made it bad for my health at times."
Mary Lee pondered some time upon this unintelligible speech, indeed until the waterfall was reached where the glad presence of the water ousel put all else out of her thoughts. There he was to be sure, flitting, diving, whirling in the eddying pools, poising like a humming-bird above the cascade, and singing, ever singing. Oh, the joy of it! Mary Lee stood enraptured. Once she turned a beamingly appreciative face upon the rough man at her side.
"Like him, do ye?" he said.
"I love him; I adore him," returned Mary Lee bending a little forward to see the better. Only a small bluish-gray bird with a touch of brown upon him, but he was the very spirit of the waterfall, a sprite—a water-baby. "Do you suppose he will still be here when the others get back?" asked Mary Lee. "I'd so love them to see him."
"He may be," returned the man, then in an undertone, "but I won't."
"I certainly am obliged to you for showing me the two things I wanted most to see," said Mary Lee as they wended their way back to the wood-chopper's tree. "I should think your children would be very glad to have a father who could show them so many woodsy creatures. Have you any little girls?"
The man was silent for a moment. "I don't know whether I have or not," he said presently.
"Oh!" Mary Lee looked surprised. "Why not?"
"Well, you see the way of it was this. It's twenty-odd year since I married my wife. She was a Mexican girl, pretty as a picture. Her folks didn't cotton to me and circumstances was against me so I lit out not long after we was married, and next thing I hear my girl is dead, and the message I got from her father didn't make it look wise for me to go back and claim the baby. Besides, what would I do with a youngster, living wild like I had to? She was better off, I figgered it out, than she would be with her father, so I left her be, and though I ain't forgot her, I don't ever mean she shall know she has a daddy. I ain't nothin' to be proud of, missy, though once I was a right likely sort of buck. Well, so long. I guess we must part here. I hear your folks hollerin' to you. There's your road right straight ahead." And before Mary Lee could say a word he plunged into the woods and was lost to sight.