A curious rumbling of the mountain occurs in certain of the summer months; and the Indians believe that this phenomenon is caused by the violent anger of Tahquitch when his quest for a new bride is unsuccessful, or by the restlessness of his cave-imprisoned victims.
This legend, especially in recent years, has undergone numerous changes of form and interpretation, until it is become one of the most interesting and significant of the many blended fancies of the red man and the white, which go to make up the unique poetic lore of California.
THE
TAHQUITCH
MAIDEN
IT WAS a perfect August day in the San Jacinto Mountains. The morning dew still lay upon the grass, but the early mists which hover as benedictions over the heated lower plains, were unneeded in the cooler air of our highland camp; and the soft blue of the summer sky suggested only rest and comfort.
My hammock was swung under the centuried pines of Strawberry Valley. I had slipped away from the family tents on the pretense of reading the Inferno; but the gentle soughing of the pines, the drowsy murmur of the flies which live even in mountain climes, and the subdued hum of my companion-campers’ voices threw me quite out of conceit with scenes of the lower world. My book fell from my hands, and my half-closed eyes followed unreproved my wandering thoughts.
Flecks of white cloud now floated in the air, now touched the summits of the range surrounding us, and brought out with amazing distinctness the dim outlines of hill and peak. Huge Tahquitch looked benignly down, and I could almost fancy that I saw the hoary head of old San Jack from above the line of intervening hills.