By this time every child in the rancheria had come to listen.
“Very well,” said Massea. “When I was over in the great mountains, I saw a valley, the Yosemite, with one rocky wall going up out of it a mile high. The Indians over there told me a story about that rock. There were once two little boys living in a valley. These boys went down to the river to swim, and after they had paddled about awhile, one said, ‘I am going on shore to take a sleep.’
“‘I am going with you. We will lie down in the sun on that rock,’ said the second boy.
“They both lay down on the rock and fell fast asleep. They slept so long that winter came and then the next summer. Another summer and winter came, and still they slept on. Summer after summer went by, and still the children did not wake.
“Meanwhile the rock on which they lay was rising slowly into the air. Day after day, and night after night, it rose higher and higher, until soon they were up beyond the reach of their friends. Far up, far up they went until their faces scraped the moon, and still the children slept.
“At length all the animals came together, for they intended to get the boys down in some way.
“‘Suppose we all make a spring up the wall. Some of us will be sure to reach the top,’ said the lion.
“‘Agreed,’ said the others.
“One by one they began to jump. The little mouse jumped up a hand-breadth. The rat jumped two hand-breadths. The raccoon jumped a little higher; and so on.
“All the smaller animals had failed when the grizzly bear came to take his turn.