Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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“But La Palomita was no longer La Palomito, but ‘La Bruja’ the witch, for all men feared her and looked the other way when she gave them the glances from her black eyes. And no man loved her ever in the long, dark years that she was doomed to live, for the spirit of the jefe cursed her. Her beauty left her and she grew loathsome to look upon. She, who had been La Palomita the beioved, became La Bruj,a the ac¬ cursed. And little children ran from her, and her lonely heart yearned for the touch of baby hands, and the mother in her longed to fondle and love some little one. But it could never be. Never was she to have husb ( and—babes—or friends; only the memory of the Gringo and that night of horror. “Thus it was, amigo mio, that the first Gringo came to our valley and died in our valley. Men say it is a lie; but my father’s father told me, and showed me where it happened, for the Indios know where the jefe .and the Gringo are mixed. Es verdad! But it is not good for others to know, so we never show that place of ‘Los Sepulcros.’ ” And old Joe Castaneda rolled a thin cigarette, using corn husk in place of the familiar brown papers, for Joe, let it be understood, was a Californiano of the old stock and, as such, observed many of the old customs of the days of the great rancherias.

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like the women of the Gringos who live here now. La Palo- mita would do anything for that Gringo; and, Canastos! he asked her to show him where 4 Los Sepulcros’were. La Palomita feared the wrath of the dead; she tried to be strong and not tell, but he asked, and told her he doubted that love she gave him. And La Palomita, for love, tells him and shows him the hidden spot. “So the Gringo finds a grave of a great jefe of many years before, and tells La Palomita she must help him dig for the chains. And La Palomita, la pobre, helps him; for you must remember he made her love him. “The night that they left for the evil work was cloudy and black like one hell and La Palomita was scared, I tell you so. But the Gringo was not fearful then, no, not then — later; but wait. The way to the place of ‘Los Sepulcros’ was dark and full of horror to that poor little nina who had to go because her love commanded, and only her trust in her man kept her on the silent trail. The trail led them up a deep valley and at last they reached the dreaded scene of their evil work against the holy dead. The graves were on the side of a small hill up from the valley; just shadowing the graves, was ,a big cliff of rock that seemed to La Palomita to be a guarding spirit of those dead jefes. “The Gringo began to dig. As he dug La Palomita had more fe.ar and still more fear as she watched the impious one desecrating ‘Los Sepulcros’. That fear was like ice on the breast where love had burned and seemed a terrible warning of things that were to come. “At last the Gringo uncovered the bones of the jefe, and with a wild cry he snatched at the bones and pulled away the chains that had guarded it for so many years. Pero, Diablo, when that crazy Gringo dug up the chain, the spirit of the dead jefe was furious like the wild bulls of long ago. His sins rose up to blacken his soul and the spirit hurled the lightning at the cliff and that demon, the Gringo. It hit the cliff and the cliff slid over the open grave. It buried the bones of the old jefe, buried the living body of the unholy sinner against the dead, and buried the gold chain. Nothing was left. “L,a Palomita? When the Gringo uncovered the bones she forgot her love for the Gringo and fled on her horse to the rancheria. 11

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The Prisoner of Sinai (By MADALYN POST (Second Award) T OILING in the heat of the merciless sun, a human chain of Things bowed beneath the lash of the driver crawled slowly over the arid cliffs of the Sinai mines. At inter¬ vals groans or cries escaped one or .another of the more ani¬ mated ones. They, who could thus give vent to their pent-up agonies, were dumbly envied by those who had grown mute through years of servitude. They learned to be silent after a long struggle, and with that, they gave up also their souls. They were only bodies, hardened soulless bodies, that gave no outw,ard show of their unendurable pain. Sarenchis from the back of his swaying camel viewed his little world. In truth it was nothing but dry sand, barren cliffs, a blazing sun, and the Slaves, but it was his world, and he was lord and master over it. There was everything for his comfort. Choice foods, luscious wines and plenty of crystal clear water, and on the back of his drowsy camel, was a well canopied lioudan which afforded him protection from the sun. Scanning the cowering group, he singled out a youth who bore a huge load upon his back, unfastened his arm-chains, and by way of amusement, had him scourged. At the first stroke the boy emitted a hoarse cry, but as the brutal lashing went on he ground his teeth, and with half closed eyes felt the blood trickle down his n,aked back. Staggering under the weight of pain and the huge burden, he was forced to resume. Anubis tried to overtake the rest of the slaves, but, entirely exhausted from the strain, he fell. Blows reigned upon him and he was prodded with hot irons, but he could not rise. With a howl, the overseer, whose duty it was to watch him until he could go on with the others, re¬ flected with anger th.at the prisoner would probably be unable to move until morning. This meant a night in the desert, un¬ protected from anything that might happen along. What slave should keep him from his wine with the others? Not one, by Hathor! Picking up the fallen burden of the unfor¬ tunate slave, he loaded it upon his horse and left Anubis lying shaekeled and in a deep stupor upon the hot sand. When the red sun gleamed through the jagged cliffs and began to sprinkle its warmth through the chill of the night, 13