DOCAS GOES TO THE RED HILL
ONE day Massea said, “Docas, we have used the last of our red earth. We must go to the red hill and get some more.” They wanted the red earth to paint their bodies.
Next morning they started very early, while it was still cold. They went to the creek near by and took some mud from the bank. This they smeared all over their bodies to keep them warm. After they were covered with mud the cold wind did not strike the bare skin, so they were warmer.
Then they walked south across the valley toward what we now call the New Almaden Mine. Docas was old enough and strong enough to walk almost as far as his father.
A little after noon they came to the hill where the red earth was. They filled some baskets with it and sat down to rest. They soon saw five more Indians coming with empty baskets.
When they came nearer Massea spoke to them, and asked them from what place they came. They said they lived over on the coast on the southern part of the big bay. They told Massea that they had gone to live at what was called the Carmel Mission. Massea had never heard of a mission before, so he asked them to tell him what it was.
One of the strange Indians said, “Some white men came and settled near our rancheria.”
Docas had been sitting by his father’s side all this time, listening. When he heard this, he said to Massea, “Oh, father, perhaps it is some of the white men who came past our rancheria when I was a little boy.”
Massea said, “Perhaps.”
Then he asked the strange Indian if they were the white men who had come across the mountains about eight summers ago.
The Indian said, “No; but they were friends.”
He then said to Massea and Docas, “We call the white men ‘father.’ They are very good to us. They showed us how to make a very large house. It is not made of brush, but is made of clay, and we call this house the church.”
“How big is it?” asked Docas.
“It is so large that many oak trees could stand inside it. On the walls are things that, when you come in front of them, show your face clearer than the quietest spring of water. Then there are long white sticks that make a soft light when they are lit. But the most beautiful things in the church are the pictures.”
“What are pictures?” asked Massea.
“Flat things that hang on the wall and look like people,” the stranger answered.
He stopped for a while after he had told all this. Massea and Docas did not say anything. By and by he said, “The fathers have been kind to us, so I have gone to live with them. I am a Mission Indian now.” After this Massea and Docas asked him many questions about how they lived.
Before he went away, Massea said to him, “I think I should like to be a Mission Indian. Are not any of the fathers coming over across the mountains?”
The strange Indian from Monterey said, “Yes, a little while ago a new father, called Father Pena, came to our Mission. He soon started over the mountains to begin a new Mission. He must be out in the valley somewhere now.”
After a while, Massea and Docas took up their baskets and started off. All the way home they kept talking about the Mission and what the Indian from Monterey had told them.
That night, as they sat around the campfire, Massea told the other Indians all they had heard that day. Some of the Indians laughed at the story, but Massea said, “If one of the fathers comes over here, I am going to know more about him. Perhaps I shall go to live with him.”