Richmond High School - Shield Yearbook (Richmond, CA)

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RICHMOND RODEO THE GOLDEN GATE =xy Q and fro, up and down the hill, from the old tepees to |) the new, toiled the squaws, their ragged skin garments flapping in the wind, their coarse, black hair blowing about their faces. Those straining up the hill, even though pappooses in cradles swung at their backs and children toddled behind, carried bundles of household goods, but those coming down were empty handed. The women worked rapidly, for the overcast sky and rising wind warned them that the storm had ceased only for a short time after all the long days of incessant rain. Already the water was among the old huts and the food must be moved to higher ground to escape the flood. The village stood on the eastern slope of the low range of hills that bordered the ocean. These hills formed the lake by obstructing the large river which entered from the northeast. Under normal conditions this lake stretched far to the north and south, but now it had left its usual sandy shores far behind and its waves drenched the green grass and spring flowers on the hillsides, up which the water still gradually crept, although the level of the lake was far above that of the ocean. Just back of the village was the lowest pass in the range, and already a great stream of muddy water overflowed through it and was cutting a channel to the sea. Evidently the storm reached far back in the mountains where the river had its source, for leaves, branches, and trees that grow only in the mountains, swirled along on the yellow flood. The oldest Indian in the village never had known such a storm. Everything was drenched. The old huts of thatched tules and brushwood were soaked through. The scrawny ponies became mired even in grazing in the rain soaked grass. Game had vanished, save only those birds which inhabit the water. 21

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RICHMOND RODEO them from the surrounding country. They lingered long at the water’s edge, the tiny waves lapping the beach at their feet. The moon broke forth again in all her glory and lit up every cranny and crevice of the rocky precipice. The bay sparkled in its silver mantle. Suddenly a shadow fell on the water from the overhanging bluff. The Gringo started and clutched his sword. There on the cliff directly over them, stood the stern visaged priest, hol ding a crucifix on high. His sword dropped and the Gringo sank back. The priest’s robes were an armor against which a sword availed nothing. He descended to the beach and ap- proached them. They dared not move, fearing the ban of the church. ‘‘Ah, my daughter,’’ he said, raising his hand. And with kind persuasion he led her, gently weeping, away. The Gringo stood petrified and watched them disappear. Then with clenched hands he strode up and down the beach. In that darkest stretch before the dawn, a great flame leapt into the heavens and lit up the sunrrounding sky. The cross, rising above the walls of the convent, in the very heart of the fiames, flashed with a white heat. Pushing off from the shore, the Gringo, his features glaring malignantly in the smoky light, pulled fiercely for his ship, which, her sails flung to the breeze, was already moving down the bay. The next evening a Spanish ship under full sail, carrying the survivors, passed through the Golden Gate into the face of the setting sun. t And now a crumbled foundation to be found on the Rich- mond hills, near where the Baptist church stands, marks the place where the old convent reared its adobe walls. —MURIEL TRULL, ’10

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RICHMOND RODEO The superstitious savages feared the wrath of the Great Spirit. Every night at sunset the medicine men climbed the neighbor- ing hill, hoping to see the sun sink in crimson fire. Then would he know the flood was over, but the sign was always withhe!d. This evening, however, it was not raining. There seemed more hope. To-night when the medicine man came hurrying into the village from the direction of the sea, all ceased work and went to meet him. They crowded around him while he talked ex- citedly, and pointed seaward; then the entire village trailed after him along the way he had come. When the ocean came into view, all stopped and stared in wonder. Out from the re- ceding mist loomed the spars of a great sailing vessel, like some spirit of the storm. She swung slowly around before the wind, where she had come to anchor, fearing to venture nearer land in the fog. As the Indians gazed, round-eyed, a small boat left the ship’s side and came rapidly through the surf to the shore. As the boat grounded, the Indians crowded up to the landing place. One of the three white men in it stepped ashore, and with much talk and many signs endavored to inform the curious Indians that his ship was in great need of provisions, and he had come to trade. He held up gleaming new weapons, and glittering trinkets. The Indians pressed closer. His talk meant less to them than the cackling of the waterfowl they hunted on the lake. Suddenly the old priest forced his way through the crowd. With the distorted face of a maniac, wildly waving his hands, he called on the warriors to sieze the paleface. An exclamation ran through the crowd. Several braves nearest the man fell upon him and bore him to the ground, tied him hand and foot, and carried him off to the village. The two men in the boat pushed off in mad haste and were some distance out before the Indians, excited over the captive, noticed them and 22