One would need tell of those who went boldly into the mountains to find
a grizzly bear and bring it alive and unhurt to the pen, which the
peons, with feverish zeal and much chattering amongst themselves, were
building close beside the smallest corral.
A great story it would make--the tale of that hunt! A man came back from
it with a forearm torn sickeningly, to show how brave he had been. And
the bear came also--a great, gaunt she-bear with two cubs whimpering
beside her in the cage, and in her eyes a sullen hunger for the giant
redwoods that stood so straight and strong together upon the steep
slopes while they sang crooningly the songs she knew of old, and a
glowing hatred for her captors.
A story that would make! A story in which Jerry Simpson and Tige played
valiant part and bore more than their share of the danger, and became
heroes to those who went with them.
One would need to picture somehow the bubbling excitement of Teresita,
while she planned and replanned her festal garments, and tell how often
she found it necessary to ride with Jack across the valley to talk the
matter over with the "pretty Senora" Simpson, or to the Mission San Jose
to see what Rosa had at last decided to wear.
Then, there would be the solemn conferences in the kitchen, between
Margarita and the senora herself; conferences that had to do with cakes
and preserves and the like, with the ninos getting in every one's way,
while they listened and smacked lips over the very naming of so many
good things to eat.
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