A Monterey County Pastoral [pp. 543-547]

,4 A3Monterey County Pastoral.
oaken staff he made good progress. A light
refection at mid day, and a short siesta so
refreshed him, that he almost seemed to
trot, so fast did the ups and downs of the
mountain trail speed under his feet.
He passed the night with a herdsman,
who shared with him his simple fare, and
in the morning, after giving the man his
blessing, proceeded on his way through the
mountain pass, to the edge of the Salinas
River. Tucking his gown around his waist
and carrying his sandals in his hand, he
forded the stream in a shallow place,
mounted the bank, and drew long breaths of
delight at the view before him.
The valley stretched leagues away to the
south, where the mountains seemed to meet
the sand dunes separating it from the sea on
the west. There were no landmarks of
any kind, not a tree, shrub, or rock, —only
an unbroken prairie of verdure and flowers,
azure sky overhead, and a gentle breeze
moving the grass.
The good father hastened on. Well he
knew that later in the day, these great Salinas plains were the very nozzle of the bellows, through which the trade winds swept,
and toward evening a terror to travelers
from the fog that rolled in from the sea,
enveloping, drenching, and bewildering
them so it was folly to continue their
journey. They must stop where they were,
until the next morning, when the welcome
trade winds once more arose, and drove
the fog away in fantastic clouds over the
mountains.
It was the good priest's intention to cross
the plains and reach the ranch of Don
Manuel on the Gabilan, where he would
pass the night, sure of a kindly welcome and
good cheer. But about noon, suffering
from heat, fatigue, and the pangs of hunger,
he bethought himself of a shepherd who
tended the sheep of Don Manuel, with
whom he had stopped once or twice when
overtaken by the fog, and who had the
knack of frying frijoles most deliciously.
Yes, there to the right was the hut, and
a short distance away, the flock. So the
priest turned from his course, and soon
reached the shepherd's hut. He sat down on
a bench by the door until he recovered his
breath. Then putting his hands to his
mouth, called loudly, "Pedro! 0, Pedro!"
The sheep were huddled together in
groups, heads to the ground, their woolly
backs resisting the heat of the sun. At his
call some lifted their heads, but the shepherd
did not rise from his sleep on the ground,
as Father Gaspard expected. Instead, the
black head of a shepherd dog lifted itself on
the farther side of the flock. Then circling
around it, he came bounding and leaping
toward the priest. On reaching him he ran
around and around, barking, jumping, and
trying to lick his face.
Father Gaspard laughed and said "Is it
thou, Domingo? This is a cordial greeting,
but where is thy master Pedro? Is the sluggard asleep in the grass?"
The dog showed all his teeth, and bent
himself almost double first one side then
the other, in the violent wags of his tail.
He ran a little way, then lay down and
rested his head on his paws an instant, then
ran up to the priest again, emitting sharp,
quick yelps. He repeated this again and
again, but as the priest only laughed, the
dog took hold of his gown with his teeth,
and backing off, tried to pull him along.
" 0, well then; I come," said the priest
indulgently, and followed the dog, who
trotted toward a clump of tall grass, looking
back every few steps to see if Father Gaspard
was close behind.
"Is it a fox hole thou wouldst show me?
Or only a squirrel's? 0, it is the lazy shepherd. Awake, Pedro!" said the priest, reaching down to shake the postrate form,- but he
started back, for it was not that of a sleeping man, but a dead one.
"How is this?" cried Father Gaspard in
distress. " Pedro dead! and of what ailment?"
[May,
544