I AM THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE

which is a Gnostic interpretation of redemption, and at that time had

reference to the course of the sun. The Way was Horus, the ray of wisdom

shining through the darkness; the old man was Truth, or experience;

while the center was Life, or the Light-Giver. The iron coffin was the

belt of Orion and had reference to the death of the material world.

Esoterically, the belt of Orion is the band of causation, to loosen

which, and to free ourselves from its influence, solves the riddle of

life itself.

In the center of the city was the Temple of the Sun with twelve sides

and four main entrances which overlooked the avenues. Its minarets and

domes were tipped with gold. There was a dome over each doorway, and a

larger one in the center, which terminated in a truncated spire. Under

this was a circular hall surmounting twelve arches, resting on an equal

number of pillars which represented the astral giants holding up and

guarding the Cosmos.

The capital of each pillar was carved into the semblance of the face of

a young virgin with an inscrutably mystic expression. On her head was a

monster serpent biting the tail of another on the right. The bodies of

the serpents ran in wavy lines around the recesses at the back of the

arches, where the head in turn held in its mouth the tail of the

preceding one, forming a long meander around the hall. On them, and

commencing at the northeast corner, was inscribed a hymn to the Cosmic

Virgin:—

EAST.

O thou who in thine incomparable beauty risest from the deep!

Thou who dwellest in all form, and givest life to all emanations!

Thou, Everta, who ridest on the whirlwind!

Gird thy children with the armor of justice.

SOUTH.

Thou who at thy rising doth manifest the splendor of truth,

And at thy meridian causest the fruit of the earth to ripen in its

season,

Give, O Horo! at thy setting, peace to all thy children.

WEST.

Thou who dwellest in the manifest and the invisible,

And makest one the astral deep and the mountain of substance,

Grant, O Dama! union to the souls of thy people.

NORTH.

Thou whose sandals crush the head of malice and discord

And who dost establish on the rock of eternity thy seal of power,

Make, O Gharep! on thy right hand a dwelling for the brethren of Tlamco.

The recesses facing the cardinal points led to the four entrances; the

remaining eight were curtained off, and used as civil courts. In each

corner was a pair of winged mastodons, facing each other. Their

outstretched wings touched and formed a sharp angle. On the breast of

each mastodon was a jeweled lamp of sacred fire.

Directly under the central dome was a concave counterpart, brilliant

with jeweled crystals, from the pinnacle of which was suspended a gilt

ball held in place by four golden chains. The globe was a sunburst with

horizontal rays. The serpent meander on the outer wall back of the

recesses gave the orbit of the inter-mercurial planet Vulcan, to the

same scale as the gilt ball did of the sun. Underneath the radiating

globe was a porphyry disk of equal diameter, symbolic of the fire on the

altar.

This central temple, typical of active life, was the scene of great

public ceremonies, such as the reception of ambassadors, and there the

awards for all civic honors were bestowed. The floor was a circle of

radiating tiles, twelve red, alternating with an equal number of yellow.

Around the center palladium were twenty-four seats for the Council of

State, with the one at the south raised for the Chief.

The populace were allowed access to the building and to assent to or to

disagree with the proceedings of the Council. These men, in a material

sense, represented the twelve labors of Hercules. They pictured this

personality of the sun as old and eloquent; and a councilor failing in

proper persuasion and ability to reason was driven out. It was necessary

for him to be an experienced and ready debater, because his colleagues,

in groups of six, challenged his statements—one set pathetically, one in

ridicule, one in denunciation and another in denial.

If the members of the Council quarreled, the sitting was adjourned at

once, and no further meeting was lawful until the disputants took a

solemn oath that they were reconciled. News of such an occurrence spread

over the city like a flash. It was considered a great breach of decorum

for a man to speak without consideration for another’s feelings, or in a

loud, angry voice while in the Council Chambers.

Yermah had four advisers, who in turn sat as Chief Councilors. These

were Akaza, Orondo, Setos and Alcamayn.

There were also one hundred and sixty warrior priests in his personal

suite, quartered in the fortifications around Iaqua. Some of these were

descendants of the pioneers who founded the city; others were there by

honorable promotion for service rendered the state.

Yermah, alone, was accountable to the Grand Council of Atlantis, while

Akaza was the only representative of the hierarchy. He led the white

magicians out of Atlantis when black magic gained supremacy, twenty

years prior, and had only returned in time to accompany Yermah on his

tour of inspection through the outlying colonies.

Conforming to the general outline of the temple enclosure, but on a

lower eminence, was a twelve-sided plaza which was the marketplace of

Tlamco. Every street and avenue converged upon it, and it was always

alive with men, women and children on traffic bent. In deep porticos

facing the outer circle, were booths and bazaars where everything

required by the population was for barter and exchange. Like the Temple

of the Sun in the center, this beehive of industry had an outside circle

describing the orbit of Mars, typical of the curious warfare which trade

was to wage in later times, between man’s temporal and spiritual

welfare.

Long lines of white and black horsehair reatas were carried to the top

of the truncated spire on the temple, and made fast to the base of a

colossal figure of Hercules, which was of madrono wood—indigenous to

this locality. The wood is as hard as metal, and the statue was

completely covered with fish-scales and feathered plates of solid silver

so neatly put together as to appear like a casting. The face and other

fleshy parts were treated to a liberal coating of oil and copal, giving

them a smooth and metallic appearance.

The other end of the hair rope was fastened to one of the inner

obelisks. These were novel bulletin boards; for each day’s transaction

in the market was heralded by the appearance of many small colored flags

flying above the particular section in active trade, or to announce the

arrival of fresh supplies.

Akaza lived on Round Top, in the Temple of Neptune. The monastery, which

was occupied by the highest order of initiates, was surrounded by high

white walls. The temple itself was square, four stories high, and had

entrances facing the cardinal points. Here were tall trees and deep

solitude, away from the bustle and turmoil of traffic.

Akaza stepped into the Council Chamber on his way to the monastery after

his visit to Yermah. Alcamayn, the jeweler, was presiding, and Setos,

the heap of flesh, was urging the necessity for sending a deputation of

merchants into the territory of the Mazamas, which extends from the

Sierra Nevada and Coast Ranges of mountains on the southeast, to the

confines of Behring Sea on the north and west. Mazamas signified

mountain climbers and was not the name of a nation, race or tribe.

Traveling merchants in those days were not a set of pack-saddle

peddlers, as they became in later times. They were a distinct guild and

were allowed to carry manufactured articles which they were free to

exchange for anything made or grown by another people. They went about

with many attendants and were always treated with consideration,

sometimes performing diplomatic service connected with trade relations

and in exceptional cases acting as spies.

“The Mazamas are not of our faith. They are nature-worshipers, and must

fail to achieve a high place in the affairs of this continent. They have

been in rebellion against our cousins of Ian, and it is the part of

prudence to look upon them with suspicion.”

“Will Setos be kind enough to state definitely what he expects to

accomplish by dispatching a delegation from the guilds in his group to a

friendly territory?” asked Alcamayn. “If war is the purpose, Orondo must

decide; if for religious propaganda, then the hierophant, Akaza, should

be here to speak.”

“I am here to speak,” declared Akaza, coming forward. “My voice is for a

visit to the Mazamas, but not in the manner proposed by Setos.”

Setos flushed—hot and uncomfortable. He was not intentionally

untruthful, but he could not let an opportunity pass unimproved when a

keen, sharp transaction would materially benefit his section of the

industrial guild.

Akaza looked straight at him and said quietly, “I will not have spies

sent into the house of a friend.”

“Will the hierophant enlighten us as to his wishes?” asked Alcamayn,

respectfully.

“Yermah, Orondo, Setos, Rahula, and Ildiko, with proper following, will

accompany me on a friendly mission to the high-priestess, Kerœcia.”

“Are we to know the nature of this mission?” queried Setos.

“It is my wish that the high-priestess visit Tlamco. We offer our

services as arbiters between her tribesmen and the government of Ian.”

“Has the time for this undertaking been decided?”

“The hour of departure has not been named, but it will be accomplished

while the guild of arts is in the seat of judgment. The Dorado desires

that Alcamayn serve in his stead. He will not be long absent.”

Alcamayn arose, folded his hands across his breast with the open palm

turned inward, and inclined his head profoundly. There was a burst of

applause, and an expression of acquiescence from the audience, which

pleased Alcamayn mightily. He was a young Atlantian, not quite

acclimated to Tlamco, and just beginning to exercise his prerogative as

a favorite of Yermah’s foster-father, Poseidon.

Noting that it was near the noon hour, Akaza said, making the hierarchal

sign of benediction:

“Have done! If Alcamayn will go with me to the Observatory, I will fix

the time of our journey, also its duration, that he may be better able

to devote his energy to the cause of his fellow-servants. May the sun

preserve and keep us free from malice and disease—two mortal enemies of

the soul.”

As one man they responded: “Haille, Akaza! Haille!”

Setos was primarily a man of stomach. With his reddish-brown cloak of

coarse cloth swinging loosely from his shoulders, and shining

neck-ornaments aggressively in evidence, he elbowed his way out of the

building, hastening into the stalls where fresh vegetables and fruits

were laid out in tempting array. Setos’s barter was for cucumbers and

squashes, giving in exchange taos of tin, which he redeemed later, with

bags of chalk, kalsomine and staff. He was careful to see that the

custom of pelon was strictly enforced.

For each regular customer a tiny tin cylinder was hung up in the stalls,

in full view, marked with the name and number. For every purchase made a

bean was dropped into the cylinder, and at stated times these were

removed and counted. Sixteen beans entitled the customers to a rebate in

commodities.

Setos’s square jaws relaxed and his thin lips smacked with satisfaction

on seeing some luscious melons. He had already selected one, bespeaking

his good digestion and critical eye, when his daughter, Ildiko, the

Albino, called to him:

“Thou by whom I live, Setos, the wise father, come with me to Rahula in

the bazaar of sweet odors. She awaits us there.”

“What mischief hast thou been planning this fair day? Is it new raiment

or a bit of candied sweets?” questioned Setos, as he followed Ildiko

from the food section past piles of cotton in bales, wool, flax, and

silk in the raw state, to where the manufactured articles were

displayed.

She did not pause in the section devoted to dress or ornament, giving

only a passing glance to the tapestries, pottery, enameled and jeweled

vessels, baskets and rugs lying about in confused heaps.

“It is neither of these,” she explained as they went along. “I crave thy

judgment on a new sweet coffer fashioned by Alcamayn. He ornamented it

according to my direction.”

“Because that foolish man has humored an idle whim of thine, must I come

to barter? Out upon both of ye!”

“Rahula is already bargaining for one of the leather pockets held in a

filigree of gold. Even widows may carry these. Thou knowest that she is

very strict in decorum and temple service. She says that perfumes are

acceptable to the Brotherhood, and even a vestal may use them in her

hair.”

Ildiko, daughter of the moon, knew how to play upon the weakness of her

fellows and was well aware of her father’s predilections. “Thou hast no

words of condemnation for Rahula,” she pouted.

They turned into the portico where the perfumers’ bazaars were located

before Setos could answer. The young woman waited for the effect of

mingled odors on a nature whose whole bent and inclinations were toward

the appetites. By the time his senses were fully alive to the seductive

fragrance, Rahula was speaking to him. She was past-mistress of the art

of flattery.

“There is no need to commend thee to the keeping of the gods of magic,

Setos. Every lineament of thy noble face bespeaks exalted favor.”

Setos was fatally weak with women. He knew it, and alternately made love

to, or abused, them.

“The finger of Time has failed to touch thee,” he replied, removing his

conical hat, and holding it across his stomach with both hands, “nor

hast thou forgotten the offices of speech.”

Rahula, who had risen, made the usual sign of submission with her long,

thin fingers. As she looked intently from father to child, she quickly

discerned that Ildiko’s pink countenance was puckered into a frown.

“Has the little weaver, Ildiko, told thee of her latest success at the

loom?” she asked with fine tact.

Ildiko made a motion of dissent, and laid her forefinger across her

upper lip. None knew better than she that silence was impossible. It

suited her evasive disposition to make mystery of the most trivial

circumstance; she was in reality delighted with the sensation she was

making. Many of the shop-keepers and some of the passers-by gathered to

examine the roll of fine, gossamer-silk tissue, which Rahula adroitly

drew out of the perfumed pocket held in her hand. Setos may be forgiven

the glow of pride and satisfaction with which he surveyed the product.

At this moment Ildiko reached over and picked up the identical jeweled

coffer which she had in mind when she went in search of her father. To

the feminine eye her coveting was entirely justified, and when she

managed to bring the dainty bauble between the silken veil and Setos’s

focus of vision, he was still smiling in a pleased manner. She leaned on

him affectionately, and said in a coaxing tone:

“The water-lily design set with brilliants was my idea. I got the

suggestion from the pond in our garden, when the fountain left a fine

spray like dewdrops in the heart of the lilies growing there. Dost thou

see thy favorite rushes in the twisted lines on the mouth and handles?”

Setos could hold out no longer.

“Must I find thee a golden chain for support?” he queried, half

petulantly.

History fails to record why a certain type of man always finds fault

with what he knows in his soul he must do for his women-folk. Setos was

troubled with that “little nearness” which has rendered the Scotch of

later times famous.

“If the chief of the merchants’ guild will send some of his excellent

wine of maguey in exchange, we vendors of sweet odors will be content. A

chain, which we can procure from our neighbors, the artificers in gold,

will be included in the purchase price.”

Setos was about to conclude the transaction, when Rahula said:

“Alcamayn has confided to me his intention of making a chain of special

design, which he will present to Ildiko, with consent of Setos.”

Without further parley Setos led the way out of the stalls. When he

halted, it was in front of a booth where his beloved wine of maguey was

kept in abundance. There was a private entrance to the enclosure through

which Setos passed, followed by the two women.

With a show of special interest, accompanied by an insinuating smile,

Rahula said: “Hast thou a secret in the fabrication of this drink

unknown to other makers?”

Setos shook his head in vigorous negation and continued giving his order

for refreshing drinks. Ildiko preferred pulque. Rahula ordered

metheglin, a spiced drink made by boiling fragments of beeswax and honey

together, allowing it to ferment after it has been skimmed and

clarified.

“Wilt thou hold it impertinent in me to ask thee,” continued Rahula, as

soon as she could attract the attention of Setos, “to what process thou

art indebted for the superior quality of thy wine of maguey?”

“It is made from the guava plant cut in the dark of the moon, but

roasted and matured in the light of that orb. Care in manipulation does

the rest.” Then lowering his voice and making a grimace as he winked,

knowingly, he continued:

“No one suspects that my bottles are made of pliant glass and that only

the covering is of goats’ skin.”

Standing with faces toward the east, they bowed their heads reverently;

without a word they drank, not heartily, but in moderate sips. When they

had swallowed the third mouthful, they resumed their seats. The women

nibbled at honey-cakes and salted nuts, while Setos rolled a cigarette.

Before lighting it, he said:

“Akaza, the hierophant, announced in the Council Chamber at meridian

that a visit of state is soon to be made to the high-priestess, Kerœcia.

Thou art to be my companions to the Yo-Semite, where the Monbas tribes

are at the festival of renewal.”

“Must we countenance the rites of these childish worshipers of the four

elements?” demanded Rahula. Intolerance was one of the bonds of sympathy

between them.

“I raised that question in Council, but Akaza vouchsafed no decided

answer.”

Both were silent for a moment, busy with the same train of thought.

“Oh, that we had some of the flying vehicles of thy invention in

Atlantis! We could then make the journey without hardship or fatigue,”

said Ildiko. Setos and Rahula quickly exchanged a meaning look, then

cast furtive glances about to see if Ildiko had been overheard.

“Let us go hence,” said Setos, irritably. “Speech is the pale, silvery

reflection of the moon, my daughter, while silence is the golden rays of

the sun and the wisdom of the gods. I charge thee keep a closer watch

over thy tongue. It is an unruly member and performs the same office as

a two-edged sword.”

When it came time to separate, Setos said: “Akaza leads us. Yermah and

Orondo go also; while Alcamayn remains and serves in our stead. I do not

doubt the loyalty of our new subjects; but Yermah seems to find it

prudent to leave some of his own countrymen at the helm.”

He spoke in a dissatisfied way—the reflex of his own mind. It is

impossible for the best of us to see beyond the reflection of ourselves;

so, Setos attributed to Yermah motives which would have actuated himself

in a similar situation.

Rahula, the fish-goddess, speculated on her way home as to how much

Ildiko really knew of the reasons which impelled her father to leave

Atlantis. She shrewdly guessed that his presence in the camp of the

white magicians was a matter of expediency rather than conviction, but

valued her position as companion and confidante of Ildiko too highly to

jeopardize it by an injudicious question.

Rahula was content to let matters shape themselves. Her ambitions found

satisfaction in the encouragement Ildiko gave Alcamayn. She was a born

matchmaker and intrigante and knew that Ildiko was the apple of her

father’s eye despite his petulancy and parsimony. Setos was a man of

ardent love-nature whose affections had not all been buried with his

wife. Rahula’s gray hair and parchment skin did not let all hope die

within her.

CHAPTER THREE

THE VIRGINS OF THE SUN AND THE VOICE OF TLAMCO

Alcamayn, the fop, and Akaza, “the old man of the band,” as he was

familiarly spoken of by all classes, presented a striking contrast as

they walked toward the Observatory, which was enclosed in a circular

wall and dedicated to Jupiter.

Akaza, tall, spare and sinewy wore a cloak of brocade in varying shades

of green shot with silver discs. It was fastened to a shoulder

collarette, set with pearls imbedded in hollow glass beads containing

mercury. His breastplate of bronze had a gold and silver inlay, while

his long, thin white hair fell over his shoulders and the crown of his

head was tonsured in honor of the sun. Fastened by the cord at his waist

was a cluster of narcissus and lilies. He carried a green jade tao,

surmounted by an eagle, in his right hand, showing that he commanded in

the name of science instead of war.

Alcamayn was small, round-shouldered, hooknosed and bushy of eye-brow.

His small beady eyes had a shifty downward glance as if he were intent

on examining the ground at his companion’s side. He had been a sufferer

from small-pox and he was extremely sensitive concerning his facial

disfigurement.

Unable to submit to the control of others, he was a swaggerer, a

braggart, and very resentful. Every little slight irritated him and he

was given to brooding over his wrongs. When he had magnified the

promptings of wounded vanity and selfishness into a veritable mountain,

he struck back and at the most unexpected time.

As an off-set to these disabilities, he had sterling honesty, unswerving

loyalty to Akaza and Yermah, and he was the most skillful artificer in

metals and precious stones in all Tlamco. He was inventive and original,

having added many fine pieces to the collection of beautiful vessels in

the temples and at Iaqua. He had all the instincts of a gambler and on

more than one occasion came dangerously near indulging in the forbidden

prank of drinking too much.

His expert knowledge of precious stones enabled him to display

magnificent jewels and he often discoursed learnedly on their speed,

refraction and temper, much as lovers of gems have done in every age

since.

Alcamayn wore amethysts for luck, and usually a tunic of ochre yellow

richly trimmed with peacock feathers and silk fringes. His head-piece

was a high cap of white lambskin. On his feet were jeweled sandals and

chamois leggins were met at the knee by a full short cotton skirt,

having the figures of the zodiac embroidered around the hem in a

bewildering mixture of brilliant hues.

On the sides of Lone Mountain, which the men were rapidly approaching,

were several small mounds, still plainly indicated. Deep tanks were

hollowed out on the top of each of these, having the circular bottom and

sides lined with cement and filled with filtered water. In addition to

serving as observation pools for the sidereal system, these tanks

furnished drinking water for the cavalry and infantry camps situated on

the right and left hand side of the main buildings.

A circular tower of red sandstone and brick rose in the center of the

mountain itself. On the inside was a stone stairway, having landings at

the various windows, where there was room enough for such lenses and

apparatus as was necessary to fully observe the moon and stars imaged in

the pools below.

The reflection of the sun in these pools marked the hours of the day and

time was very sensibly measured by studying the sidereal system. By a

nice adjustment, the lenses revolved with the earth’s real motion. The

Atlantians and all of their descendants studied the reflection of the

planets and stars in a pool of filtered water sunk below the earth’s

surface.

The tower tapered toward the top, and under an eight-sided pyramidal

roof hung a massive copper bell, which was struck to proclaim the hours.

Around the circle were chime bells, one for each of the five-note scale;

and these were so grouped that by hearing them one knew which temple

service was indicated. When it was time to go to a temple, these bells

were rung continuously twelve strokes; then a full interval of rest when

the process was repeated three times.

The “Voice of Tlamco” as the huge central bell was called, rang at dusk,

warning all pedestrians to go to their dwellings. Licensed healers of

the priestcraft and patrols were the only persons allowed on the street

at night, except on extraordinary occasions, and then, the “Voice of

Tlamco” tolled with wonderful effect.

Lower down, covering much of the ground now occupied by San Francisco

proper were the ambulance sheds, battering-rams and other paraphernalia

used in warfare. These were enclosed by a wall which skirted the water’s

edge, not where the sea-wall now is, but as the water-front was known to

the founders of Yerba Buena.

As Akaza and Alcamayn neared the entrance of the Observatory they met a

procession of Virgins of the Sun, coming from the Temple of Venus. It

was the duty of these virgins to replenish the sacred fires kept burning

continuously on the towers and in the temples throughout the city. A

crystal lens and a bit of cotton was used to focus the sun’s direct rays

and imprison its fires. Once ignited the flame was held sacred and

constantly fed, lest disaster should befall the entire tribe. On the

apex of the octagonal belfry was a twelve-sided urn filled with

charcoal, upon which, with proper ceremonies, four times in twenty-four

hours were placed sticks of copal and cedar. At midnight and at sunrise

this function was performed by a selected order of priesthood. At

mid-day and at sunset it was done by the vestals.

As the women advanced, Akaza and Alcamayn saluted—Akaza, by carrying his

open palms even with his forehead on each side; Alcamayn, by the sign of

submission. To emphasize his symbol of equality Akaza said:

“Thou shalt make me thy servant.”

“Thou shalt make us to go through fire and water for thee,” they

responded in unison, making the same obeisance as Alcamayn had done,

bending the knee and with a downward gesture of the right hand.

The jeweler was included in the comprehensive bow given in passing but

no further words were spoken. He did not attempt to conceal his respect

and admiration; the vestals were equally frank in their curiosity. They

had seen but few men so fastidious in dress, and there was a difference

between his general appearance and that of the men of Tlamco.

Passing through the gateway a confusing scene greeted the visitors. Here

two bands of warriors had been going through a quaint manual of arms in

a competitive drill and were about returning to quarters. Carrying

snake-headed batons, at the head of the column were the superior

officers who acted as judges. Behind them came the two ensign bearers,

one flaunting a triangular-shaped banner of embroidered satin, depicting

a white heron on a rock. It was suspended from a gold bar, supported by

a burnished bronze standard, finished with a cluster of

brilliant-colored plumes.

The other emblem was a white satin square, showing a golden eagle with

outstretched wings ornamented with silver-set emeralds. The pole was

gilded, and tufted at the top with curled white horsehair, out of which

protruded a flaring crest of peacock feathers.

Back of each standard bearer marched the trumpeter and drummer of the

regiment. A blast from the trumpet, and a movement of the banners guided

the companies, while general orders were signaled by the gold-knobbed

baton.

The modern drum-major is not the only man knowing how to twirl an

ornamental baton, as he casts side-long glances at his own moving

shadow, nor is his high-stepping more admired to-day than it was of old.

Vanity often changes the details, but seldom the actual methods of

self-gratification.

The leaders wore quilted cotton tunics fitted closely to the body. Over

this was a cuirass of thin gold and silver plates, in imitation of

feathers. Leggins of ooze leather were attached to breech-clouts of dark

blue cotton, while the feet were covered with sandals or bull’s-hide

moccasins ornamented with bead-work. Wound around the shoulders was a

gayly striped mantle of fine wool, so light and soft in texture that in

actual combat it served as a sash for the waist.

The helmets were of wood fiber, light but durable, from the crests of

which floated a panache of feathers. The form of head covering, the

color and arrangement of the plumes, indicated the family and rank of

the wearer. Every warrior carried a shield, either of metal, or leather,

or a light frame of reeds covered with quilted cotton.

A perfect sea of spears and darts tipped with transparent obsidian or

fiery copper, sparkled in the noonday sun. The gay head coverings, the

ribbons floating in the air, and the ornate shields wove in and out in

serpentine undulations, finally disappearing in one of the Long Houses

used for mess.

There was a clash and a rattle of arms as a company of expert archers of

the White Heron drew bow and discharged three arrows at a time. But

there was quite as much spirit and dash in the hurling of javelins by

the men fighting under the eagle blazonry. To this weapon, thongs were

attached, by means of which the knife was shot through the air revolving

so rapidly that it seemed like a ball of glittering steel. Presently,

the blade returned and fell near the hand that gave it its forward

impulse. Seldom, if ever, was there an accident in the performance of

this extremely difficult feat, despite the anxiety and solicitude the

undertaking always inspired.

On constant duty was a group of fighting men who served as lookouts at

the various points of vantage in the tower. It was from this source that

the men on parade learned that Akaza, the spiritual head, and Alcamayn,

the representative of civil government, were inside the fortification.

The intelligence was flashed from a set of mirrors and the impromptu

display of prowess followed.

That there was keen rivalry in the competition, not unmixed with envy

was shown very quickly, when a partisan of the White Heron, threw dirt

into the face of an adherent of the Eagle Banner.

The parade ground was cleared at the time, but it was only a moment

before a crowd collected around the angry disputants. They were dragged

apart and hurried in opposite directions by friendly hands, whose good

offices did not cease until the men were brought back and made to sing

the national chant. First one man sang, then the other, while their

auditors clapped their hands in accompaniment, and passed judgment on

their efforts.

The insulted man took the initiative. While singing, he offered his hand

to the offender. The face of the latter clouded, but the eyes of the

camp were upon him. He sullenly took the outstretched hand, and finally

the two voices blended in unison. Their comrades swelled the chorus to a

mighty shout and the whole difficulty was over.

This was in the Golden Age, in Pre-historic America, when the man who

served was a great soul, and he who refused to resent an insult, the

brave one.

Blood surged through the veins of Alcamayn, caused by accelerated

heart-action as he kept a firm hold of Akaza’s waist, to assist the

hierophant in following the sinuosities of the winding stairway in the

tower. Finally they stood alone on the roof, and as soon as the elder

man’s breathing became normal, he faced the east, and, with outstretched

arms, cried:

“I adore Him who enables me to endure.”

Alcamayn bowed his head, and, making the same genuflection, murmured:

“I give thanks to Him whose strength hath supported me thus far.”

Slowly and impressively the twain faced the other cardinal points and

repeated the same words. Then Alcamayn gave hand, and Akaza soon

retraced his steps to where the mechanical apparatus for astronomical

calculations and observations were in position. While thus occupied,

Alcamayn surveyed the whole city, going from one lookout to another.

It was a perfect day, and his surroundings resembled an enormous

ant-hill, with throngs of workers going in and coming out of the houses,

or hastening along the thoroughfares. He turned to the bay, where a

vision of surpassing beauty rewarded him.

Not a wisp of fleecy cloud dimmed the blue vault overhead; the only

flecks of color being the pinks and lavenders blended into the sky-line

above the horizon.

The soft, limpid atmosphere revealed the outlines of the shore

indentations, whose lights and shadows added their quota to the

indescribable charm. The water was smooth and clear as a sheet of

crystal, with big and little crafts moving here and there instinct with

life and industry.

Off what is now Black Point, Alcamayn saw a party of fishermen with

their dogs and skiffs making for the shore. There were two groups of men

and dogs already on the beach at stations about two hundred yards apart.

At a given signal the dogs started from their given points and swam

straight out seaward, single file in two columns. At a sharp cry from

one of the men on the beach, the right column wheeled to the left, and

the left column wheeled to the right, until the head of each line met.

Then another signal was given, at which they all turned and swam abreast

to the shore. As the dogs neared the beach, increasing numbers of fish

appeared in the shallow water. When their feet touched bottom, the

animals pounced upon their finny captives and carried them to their

masters. Each dog was given the head of the fish he had secured, as his

share of the catch. The dog who caught nothing received nothing.

For a long time Alcamayn was unable to distinguish any member of the

party now coming cityward, but he could see that it was of unusual

importance. Soon he caught sight of Yermah seated in a palanquin, which

was borne on the shoulders of four black men, and then he saw Oghi

streaking along ahead of the pack of dogs which were in full cry at his

heels. The ocelot often sprang to one side and played with his canine

pursuers, while anon he scaled a wall for their special delection. He

was a magnificent swimmer, and a good fisher, despite the fact that he

occasionally put his sharp teeth through the fish, rendering it unfit

for other than his own use.

“It is near the third marking past meridian-time,” said Akaza; “and when

the circle is once more completed there will be but ten days remaining

before we shall begin our mission of amity.”

“Have fitting preparations been made?” asked Alcamayn.

“Hanabusa must take cognizance that a compliment of balsas do escort

duty at commencement. A signal from Iaqua will apprise him.”

“Yermah is but returning from a fishing expedition beachward. I have

visioned him from an upper lookout.”

“Then let him have speech with thee at once. Take freely the counsel he

imparts, and let me have assurance of his assent when the windows of thy

soul greet and speed our parting hence. Peace abide with thee.”

He lightly kissed the forehead bared and inclined toward him.

Alcamayn paused a moment on the threshold and gazed lingeringly into a

kindly countenance flushed by close mental application.

“May the preservative principle of the Trinity have thee entirely in its

keeping,” he responded, as he passed from view down the same spiral

which had given him so much labor to ascend earlier in the day.

CHAPTER FOUR

DISPATCHING RUNNERS TO THE YO-SEMITE

The Servitors of Tlamco were held strictly responsible for the conduct

of their respective offices. Promotion and preference did not depend

upon birth but on deeds.

“What has he done?” was the question propounded when a candidate

presented himself for an office of public trust, and the same query met

his lifeless body when it was offered for burial. Socially, and in the

temples the same rule followed; so that distinctive service was the

mainspring of their civilization.

Next to the priestly office, agriculture ranked highest in the choice of

occupations. Men profoundly learned in every branch of it were

continually in attendance at Iaqua. There were stations devoted to

observation of climatic conditions; to the reclamation of wild fruits

and cereals, or the propagation of new ones for food; to the surveying

and proper distribution of lands; to the building of aqueducts, canals,

bridges, granaries and public highways—to say nothing of the research in

the extraction of dye stuffs from both vegetable and mineral substances.

Nearly all of the cereals and fruits known to man were reclaimed from a

wild state by the contemporaneous inspiration of these times.

The surrounding country was divided into four sections or provinces,

while the populace was grouped into tens, having an official who

attended to minor details. Every thousand of the population had a

magistrate. Each ten thousand, or fraction thereof, had a governor, who

was one of the Counselors of State.

Orondo was at the head of the Civil Counselors, and it was to him, as

first judge, that all questions of moment were submitted. Monthly

reports were made to him by inspectors sent out for this purpose—men who

served a lifetime without any other remuneration than the medals and

prestige their positions insured. The priests owned nothing for

themselves or their temples, nor did the advocates or healers receive

recompense for service.

The community was superior to the individual, and the government

provided for the needs of all its people. The land was divided into

three parts; that belonging to the sun supported the priesthood, and

built and maintained its temples.

Education was in the hands of the warrior-priests and the Virgins of the

Sun; so the universities and schools drew their support from the same

source. The next third belonged to the government and was cultivated for

its benefit.

The unit of value was a day’s labor, and all the taxes were paid in this

way. When the people had planted the remaining third of the land for

their own use, they worked alternately for the government (constructing

public roads) and on the sun lands.

Hospitals for the aged, for orphans, and for the sick were a part of the

government expense, institutions universally copied from, but seldom

accredited to the Aztecs and Peruvians by modern civilization.

No man was allowed to take advantage in a barter. Disputes arose every

day among the guilds in the bazaars, but there was the same clannish

feeling among them that has since made and maintained the family. Each

trade was loyal to its own. They were ashamed to have a neighboring

guild know that they quarreled, and it was a very aggravated case which

invoked the law.

When planting-time came, Orondo turned the first furrow of sod, and the

Virgins of the Sun dropped the seeds, while Akaza commended the

undertaking to the four elements.

There were songs of rejoicing, and much exhibition of skill in

cultivation, which at the close of the season, was rewarded by prizes

and medals from Yermah’s own hand. There were no idle men and women, and

no paupers in these communities, while to be accused of laziness was a

great disgrace.

The private houses in Tlamco were of sun-dried bricks, covered with

stucco, elaborately ornamented and delicately tinted. They were seldom

more than one story high, with ceilings of ornamental woods, while the

walls were tinted or hung with simple cotton tapestries. The flat-roofs

were often bright with potted plants, and these dwellings were

invariably surrounded by flowers and a stretch of greensward.

The hospitals, the barracks, the Brotherhood houses and those occupied

by the priestesses faced the cardinal points and were the squares within

the circular streets. They were uniformly four stories high, with

truncated sloping roofs, and terraced grounds, forming ornamental bits

of landscape among the trees, and commanding a fine view of bay and

harbor.

Clusters of sunflowers grew here and there in out-of-the-way places.

Free use was made of cherry, laurel, clove and lavender plants along the

highways, because they were known to produce ozone; and the gardens

contained their favorite flowers—narcissus, hyacinth and mignonette in

abundance.

Orondo was giving an audience to the mathematicians who were employed in

the Hall of Quippos, at Iaqua, where the government accounts were kept.

And when it was known that Alcamayn had arrived Orondo sent and begged

his presence. When the jeweler stepped into the hall, he found the place

littered with quippos of all kinds. They were scattered about on chairs,

on the tables, and some were hanging upon the walls, while clerks called

the numbers and tallied the curiously knotted cords in a monotonous

drone.

There were intricate estimates for the warriors shown by the red cords

and fringes; yellow denoted the gold used in the mechanical arts and

industries and in the temples; but these were few and simple in

combination compared with the white ones, indicating the enormous amount

of civil transactions for the current month.

Silver was used for state accounts, and its knots were curious little

buttons, full of meaning for the men who mastered the art of the

quippos. The largest bundle of all was the green, which, by its varying

shades and fanciful combinations recorded the amount of wheat, corn and

all agricultural produce owned or used by the pueblo city of Tlamco.

“One knot! Red signal corps,” called the teller.

“Signal corps, ten,” answered the tally.

“Two single knots, and one knot doubly intertwined, silver, Alcamayn.”

“Two knots, twenty; one doubly intertwined, one hundred,” repeated the

tally.

“One knot, triply intertwined, yellow, Alcamayn.”

“Hold!” cried Orondo. “Alcamayn, hast thou made requisition for a

thousand grains of gold? Thy parchment is not properly stamped, and we

cannot give thee so much treasure on irregular demand.”

“Wilt thou grant me to see it?” said Alcamayn, reaching out for the

document. “I must have both gold and silver quickly. There will scarce

be time enough to prepare the gifts needed because of thy going to the

Monbas.”

“It grieves me that I cannot aid thee; but thou must have recourse to

the Dorado.”

“A foolish blunder leaves it without number, also,” said Alcamayn, with

a frown, handing the order to a tamane. “Yermah is engrossed with the

priestesses caring for the fatherless. Dost thou know that he has issued

an edict that all guilds and communes must sup together once in each

lunation?”

“The Azes are grown lax in hospitality, and we must give them an

example,” responded Orondo.

The tamane returned with the parchment properly numbered and viséed.

“He whom we delight to serve bids thee follow me. He would fain have

counsel with thee.”

In obedience to the message, Orondo crossed the hall, and passed to the

right, avoiding the audience chambers.

Yermah had risen and was dismissing the priestesses, after issuing

orders on the state granaries for their requirements.

“Spare no efforts to make these flowers of humanity happy as birds of

air,” he said. “I charge thee to give them plenty of sweets, music and

games for their amusement.”

“Wilt thou not lend us thy presence?”

“Affairs of urgency prevent indulgence of personal desires, but I shall

not forget to send best thoughts.”

“May Jupiter the beneficent be in the ascendant throughout thy journey.”

He made the sign of submission and bent the knee in courtly fashion.

“May his jovial and benign rays descend on all thy efforts. Success be

with thee and thy wards,” was Yermah’s reply.

“The secret of happiness,” said Setos, sententiously, “is in having

constant employment for both body and mind. I shall advise—”

“What wilt thou advise, Setos?” asked Yermah, as he seated himself at

the council table in his private office, where Alcamayn and Orondo had

been waiting for him.

“Duty compels me to suggest severe measures for women neglecting their

households and allowing their children to be seen in filthy rags. Near

the Temple of Neptune I complain of three houses unlawfully dirty. It

surprised me that Akaza made no mention of this in conference to-day.”

“It were possible that he saw them not. He would be for mercy; and so am

I.”

Yermah was in a genial mood as his voice and manner indicated.

“What hast thou done with the offenders?” asked Orondo, quietly.

“The first family was warned; the second are now being paraded up and

down the street. They have been admonished once before, and if it were

in my discretion, they would be soundly whipped. Humiliation may serve

with some natures, but corporal punishment is better for others.”

“Thou sayest _they_. Whom dost thou mean?”

“The father and mother, and two young girls. The law is no respecter of

persons.”

“And, in addition, thou wouldst have me order them whipped?”

“N-o-o; I only wish thy consent to propose the measure at the next

council meeting.”

Yermah made a gesture of dissent, and asked pointedly:

“What punishment hast thou meted out to the third offense?”

“I have application here, awaiting thy signet, that I may take the

children away from the shiftless sloven who gave them ingress to light.”

“Is she widowed?”

“Yes; but she has been found guilty the third time.”

“The application is denied for the present. Alcamayn will be guardian of

streets in our absence. Upon returning, I shall lend mine ear to

domestic affairs. Of late disturbances and complaints have been frequent

from that quarter.”

Touchy, vain-glorious Setos nettled at this.

“Do my fellows think me unmindful of duty?”

“No; only over-zealous. It is not in the province of good government to

meddle with private affairs. The best interests of posterity and the

economic use of sustenance, with care of the person, are all that can be

demanded.”

“Akaza is competent to advise thee,” interposed Orondo. “These matters

properly come under his dominion.”

“Akaza will undoubtedly agree with me,” said Setos, catching at a straw

for justification. “The first evidence of initiation is a sensitive

condition of the organs of smell. The novitiate is required to discover

the deadly effects of putrescent gases, and even children are taught

that whatever offends the nostrils injures the body.”

They rose simultaneously, and Orondo opened the door leading into the

public reception hall.

“The runners are here, waiting to carry our greetings to the Monbas and

their high priestess.”

“Go and dispatch them, Orondo. I trust thee to lay the lash on them

lightly. Go, thou, also, Setos, to see that they get the regulation

stripes before setting forth.”

The Dorado picked up the parchments signed and sealed earlier in the

day, and locking them in a strong box of curious design, dismissed the

two courtiers with a nod and a smile.

“I pray thee return quickly. Alcamayn needs advice from thee respecting

thy special departments of service.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THE TEMPLE OF LOVE IN THE LAND OF FIRE

The watchers on the top of Mount Diablo looked anxiously for sunrise the

morning Yermah and his followers rowed slowly across San Francisco Bay,

hugging the shorelines until the mouth of the Sacramento River was

reached.

Four times in the year the early visitor to Mount Diablo sees the

“Shadow of the Devil” cast a triangular outline against its grizzled

peak. The contacts last but a second and fade like a breath of mist from

a looking-glass.

All of the cluster of piny hills which surrounds Diablo like brilliants

around a stone of the first water are still in darkness, and the two

large valleys at either side seem an indistinct blur, when the heavy,

phantom-like shadow is thrown on the scene, slantingly, clear, and

sudden.

On the right side of the mountain, the light nearest the black line that

accentuates the shadow is palest yellow, shading gradually into green,

until it is lost in the yellow-brown of the hills. To the left the line

is reddish, and the shadow blue-black.

That the triangle shaped itself perfectly, and gave good omen of the

enterprise in hand, was evident from the excitement among the men whose

duty it was to signal the good news to the Observatory tower in Tlamco,

and also to the fleet in the bay and river.

Without mishap or deterrent incident the expedition found its way up the

river past the bog-rushes, or tules, which gossip among themselves

throughout the year. Occasionally the cry of a lone bittern or loon

warned the invaders of a priority of claim upon the sustenance hidden by

the murky waters or along the grassy banks.

The wild things were startled and much distressed by such unaccustomed

tumult, but their feeble protests failed to disturb the serenity of the

human contingent secure in a might-made right to be the over-lords of

all less gifted creatures. When they arrived at the point which is now

occupied by the city of Stockton, the entire party disembarked, and,

taking to the saddle, pushed on with as little delay as possible.

Who can describe springtime in California? From Yuma to the Klamath what

waving of leafy banners, what marvelous music of bird-song, what

conquest of grass-blades, what routing of first usurpers!

Mystical California! Where the Ice Age never came, and where the

magnetism of pre-historic times still lingers to attract race skandhas

which shall begin the upward spiral of a new sub-race great in

psychological possibilities!

The days of peonage have passed forever. The cavaliers and the padres

were oppressed by the Aztec; he, in turn, suffered at the hands of the

Argonaut.

Over the surface of placer and quartz mines, vines, fig-trees and olives

hide the scars made by sturdy miners, and dispute prestige with the

golden grains which have been the staff of life to many alien born, and

the end is not yet.

The California of Cabrillo’s day was a continuous flower-garden from

north to south. It must have been fair to view before mission sheep and

horses tramped down the hills, where once only the grizzly bear and deer

roamed unafraid long after the memory of Atlantis itself had been lost

in accumulating centuries.

The early mariners of our dispensation called the southern hills the

“Land of Fire,” because of the blaze at poppy-time—the copo del oro of

the padre and cavalier, the Yankee gold-cup, the Russian eschscholtzia.

Then as now the yellow lupines, loved by the rag-tag-and-bobtail of the

insect world, flourished beside the blue and purple blossoms of more

pretentious claims, flirting with daintier bees and butterflies.

The mints are a family of pedigree, and with all their kith and kindred

they camped in clans about field and wood. Sage, thyme, and savory have

always been well spoken of for yeoman service, while rosemary and

lavender are beloved of the poets.

California has both white and purple sweet wild mint, and her

sage-bushes yield to the bees honey next to that made from clover for

richness and whiteness. Everywhere on the trail Yermah’s companions

found the Yerba Buena, which name in later years was applied to their

beloved Tlamco.

There were no quartz or gravel mines in those days. The battea of the

Mexican and the horn-spoon of the “forty-niner” had no place in the

pack-train—for the auriferous gravel had not been thrown to the surface

in great ridges, and the blue veins which are the natural beds for gold

were in some instances thousands of feet below the surface.

The combined action of air, water, sunshine, frost and earthquake were

yet to disintegrate the matrix of quartz and set the precious metals

free, or else to ingulf them in tons of molten lava after vaporizing

them in the bowels of the earth.

Time has wrought many of these changes since, and the heavy rains have

washed the light silica into the water courses, and thence to the

valleys, thus forming the soil and gravel which has yielded gold in this

sun-down land.

It was here that the early prospector found his reward, and it is here

also that the battle over the disposal of the débris left by hydraulic

process has been fought out by miner and husbandman.

Then the cactus family, those outcasts of the desert which are said to

have survived the last glacial period, flourished in all their quaint

ugliness. By long centuries of adaptation of scanty means to the ends of

growth, the cactus has discarded its leaves and developed a fleshy stem,

cylindrical, rectangular, triangular, flat, or round, but always armed

with long needles. As a compensation, it bears exquisite blossoms of

dainty tissue pistils and yellow ravelings of stamens, while its fruits

might have been the golden apples of Hesperides.

Akaza directed his party to take a trail leading to the south side of

the Merced River, nearly two thousand feet lower than the route followed

by tourists of later times. Suddenly from out one of the gray-green

clusters of cacti darted a coarse-plumaged bird, marked with brown and

white specks on the upper part, while the lower portion of its body was

a dingy white.

Oghi gave chase immediately, but it distanced him, with insolent

flinging of sand and dust which quite surprised this intrepid hunter. He

did not know whether to be frightened or ashamed of himself. At an

encouraging word from Yermah, he laid his ears back close to his head

and again tried the chase. The bird manifested no disposition to fly or

to leave the trail.

The trumpeter blared a command to halt, and the entire expedition came

to a standstill.

“Dismount for refreshment and rest, first giving attention to the

horses,” was the word passed along the line.

Soon the tamanes were bustling about and making necessary arrangements

for Yermah’s comfort, while he and Akaza were intent upon examining the

covert from which the road-runner started. A shout brought Setos and

Orondo to his side, and after them, one by one, the whole party.

“I am of opinion,” said Setos, “that this strange bird, or beast,

intended to eat the rattlesnake it had killed.”

“Not so,” returned Akaza. “The body has been pecked full of holes and

the bird was evidently about to abandon it when disturbed by Oghi.”

“See how well the creature has outlined a circle in laying these pieces

of cactus leaves around the snake,” remarked Orondo, intently examining

the crude architectural plan.

“Dost thou know anything about its habits?” inquired Yermah, turning to

one of the piloting tamanes.

“Yes, my master. This bird is the natural enemy of rattlesnakes. It

remains concealed until the reptile is fast asleep in the warm sand.

With its sharp bill it is easy to take off part of a cactus leaf, as

thou seest. Instinct teaches how to place them in a circle. This done,

it throws caution to the wind and rouses the snake. Then there is a

battle royal. The snake can not crawl over the cactus needles and

finally dies of its own bite.”

“Does the bird eat any portion of its victim?” asked Setos.

“Nothing except the eyes. The remainder of the body is scattered about

in the sand, as thou seest.”

“Oghi will bring him back captive, but, I fear me, badly mutilated.”

“The ocelot will never catch him. These birds outfoot a thoroughbred.

They are quicker, shyer, more alert even than Oghi. Besides, the smell

of them is quite enough for a fastidious animal.”

It was long after, and when the column was once more on the move, that

Oghi came back—with his tongue hanging out; his tail between his legs;

evidently disgusted and thoroughly fagged.

Arriving at what is now called Cold Springs, the party began the ascent

of the Chowchilla Mountains. Trees begin here—Sequoia gigantea,—of

world-wide fame, but their habits were not new to the men of this

expedition.

Long before there were written words to express the ideas of man, the

forest has furnished symbols of the various stages of human existence.

The pliancy of youth, the exuberant strength of maturity, the decay of

age, have suggested eloquent parallels between man and the tree.

In contemplating the monarchs of the woods the greatest poets and the

denizens of the untracked forests have risen together to the same

heights of imagery and the same tokens of emotion and sentiment.

Who can resist the silence, the whispering, the soughing, the writhing,

the twisting and groaning of a pine tree, from the first flicker of a

needle until the whole growth is in a Titanic struggle with the vagrant

wind. The onset tests the strength of root, bole, branch and tendril to

their utmost, then suddenly departs, leaving each needle erect and still

as if listening to the music of the stars.

In all ages, and among all people, certain groves have been held sacred.

The tree-alphabet of the Chinese, the curling roofs of the truncated

pagodas, the numerous legends of the tree and vine, symbolizing life,

are universal testimonials of this ancient veneration.

The trees giving shelter to Yermah defied the Ice Age and escaped

destruction in the flood. There are giants in Mariposa Grove to-day

contemporaneous with the Star of Bethlehem and the departing grandeur of

Egypt. The green spires of this living forest, three hundred feet high,

filter the air through innumerable branches, making one shiver at their

mysterious whistle, like the rustling silk robes of an unseen company.

The mystic and appalling are there as well. How often in active life the

specter stands among men and trees!

The very strength gained by such close lifting of fibers during decades

of existence will not permit these giants to seek rest prone upon the

welcoming breast of Mother Earth. Still must they stand, bleached by

sun, beaten by rain, and buffeted by winds, leading a spectral existence

when remains of other members of the forest have silently sunk to rest,

and are no longer distinguishable in substance from the very soil from

which they sprung.

For a century or so there is a struggle among the children of the fallen

monarch. At last but few remain, to become giants in their turn—set on

the rim of the pit formed by the decaying roots of their ancient

ancestor. Rings of this kind can still be found, showing the broken

roots projecting like the staves of a barrel, overgrown with ferns and

wild oxalis, or filled to the brim with fresh spicy redwood sprouts.

No one who visits the Yo-Semite to-day, can imagine the abundance in

early times of wild flowers and luxuriant grasses reaching up to the

saddle-girths, or the almost total absence of undergrowth and brush in

the groves, thus affording clear, open views from either side. The

valley lies nearly in the center of the State, north and south, midway

between the east and west bases of the Sierras.

* * * * *

Not a sound broke the impressive stillness as Yermah caught his first

grand view from Inspiration Point, save occasional chirps and songs of

birds, or the low, distant sigh of waterfalls in the vertical-walled

chasm below. Here and there was a dark yellow pine rooted in the

crevice, and clinging tenaciously to its dizzy elevation. The wind swept

these trees to and fro, and there was a faint, plaintive murmur in their

leaves as of pain.

Yermah did not notice that coveys of grouse beat the air with their

wings in clumsy and obstinate flight, nor did he see that deer sprang up

here and there, making for the undergrowth, lying in an opposite

direction. He reined his horse sharply out of the green forest and stood

upon a high jutting rock overlooking a rolling, uplifting sea of granite

mountains of a beautiful pearl-gray. The colors were cold in effect—all

the character being given by the vertical parallel lines of gray, brown,

and black which stripe a portion of the walls.

The sun winked at them from behind the pine-trees on the top of the

hills, and threw shimmering lances among the cliffs and crags,

burnishing up their edges. Its rosy tints etched furrows on the

mountain’s face, seeming to take pride in bringing out strongly the

wrinkles which the master of the hourglass and scythe had been busily

engaged upon for so many thousand years.[3]

The first impressive thought was that the granite ledges were standing

pale and dumb before their Creator! The towers, the domes, the spires,

the battlements, the arches, the white columns of solid granite surging

up into the air came to everlasting anchor! The silence seemed to quiver

with sound, just as the warm air shimmered without stir all along the

rocky outlines. The scene conveys to the soul of man through the eye

what might the orchestra of heaven through the ear, were peals of

thunder compassed into harmonious notes of music. As the king of day

rode farther out, he gently touched the falls of Upper Yo-Semite,

transforming a downpour of crystals into tears of liquid silver, which

the winds whirled into fantastic wraiths against the frowning cliffs.

All that was mortal in the visitor swept back; all that was immortal

surged to the front, and bowed down in awe.

“Here speaks the voice of God; and here His power is manifest.”

It was Akaza’s voice that broke the silence.

“Hail! smiling morn that tips these hilltops with alchemic gold! Teach

us the secret of thy magic.”

Again it was Akaza’s words.

“Here we have visual evidence of the power and glory of the Supreme

Ruler. The majesty of His handiwork is in that testimony of rocks.”

A softening haze hung over the valley, and the clouds partly dimmed the

higher cliffs and mountains. Obscurity of vision increased the

reverential mood of the party. A peculiarly exalted sensation seemed to

fill their minds, and their eyes swam with fellowly drops of emotion,

though their tongues refused their office. By common impulse they pushed

forward, and coming down back of Cathedral Rocks, found themselves at

nightfall near the valley’s mouth, with El Capitan on the left and

Bridal Veil Falls on the right.

On the plains of the San Joaquin, sixty miles below, El Capitan had been

first sighted, and now they gazed curiously at its bare, smooth sides,

entirely destitute of vegetation, towering above their heads fully three

thousand feet—a solid mass of granite, set squarely out into the valley,

as if meaning to bar their passage.

Here they were met by a delegation of Monbas accompanied by their own

runners. After listening to an address of welcome, they were invited to

meet the high-priestess, Kerœcia, at Mirror Lake, higher up the valley.

“This glorious sun gives light to the ceremony of purification by fire,

demanding the presence of all our people, else had they been here to

give welcome to our friends. We are bidden to serve thee in the name of

the high-priestess, and make familiar the grandeur of this noble

temple,” said Ben Hu Barabe, the Civil Chief.

“Accept our humble thanks and faithful obedience,” responded Yermah.

“May the warmth and light flooding us genially be an augury of

felicitous days to come,” said Orondo.

“May our inmost thoughts be in harmony with Divine Will,” added Akaza,

while Setos called attention to a chucah, a curious basket-like

structure, suspended from a tree near where he stood. Upon examination,

it was found to contain a parchment scroll filled with a detailed report

of the runners’ journey and reception.

“The Monbas will remain only long enough to ascertain and comply with

the wishes of the Azes, after the ceremonies now in progress cease,”

continued Ben Hu Barabe. “The emissary, Eko Tanga, comes on mischief

bent, and we must be ready to meet him.”

The determined tone and angry scowl indicated the sentiments of the

speaker.

“When once outside these sacred precincts, we have matters of moment to

discuss with thy leaders,” said Yermah.

“We are pledged to the leadership of the high-priestess, and humbly

await her pleasure. She will hear thee fully,” was the response made by

the young warrior.

There was something in his loyal speech which impressed Yermah greatly.

He looked at him with an eye of favor, and asked him to show the way up

the valley.

Rahula and Ildiko, refreshed by a night’s rest, accompanied by Orondo

and Setos, recrossed the valley to view Bridal Veil Falls. The women

were in raptures at the sight of the great falls, and insisted that

their palanquins should be lowered frequently, to enable them to examine

the graceful undulating sheets of spray. It fell in gauze-like folds,

expanding, contracting and glittering in the sunlight like a veil of

diamonds. Then changing into one vast and many-colored cloud, it threw

its mystic drapery over the falling torrent, as if to shroud its

unspeakable beauty.

Down the water leaps in one unbroken chain to an immense bowlder-formed

cauldron below, where it boils and surges furiously, throwing up volumes

of spray, while the sun haloes the abyss with two or more gorgeous

rainbows. The swaying from side to side under the varying pressure of

the wind, and the jarring roar of the water, thrilled and hushed the

beholders into silent, spellbound admiration.

Yermah followed the north wall on past the Three Brothers which rise in

steps, one behind the other, with their heads turned in the same

direction.

The lofty columnar rock called Washington Tower has diamond-like

cascades, which tumble down the sides of the Royal Arches more than two

thousand feet. These wing-like spans form a sort of lion’s head, not

unlike the winged lions of Nineveh.

With the column which forms an angle to Teneya Cañon, they seem intended

for a base of adequate magnitude to support the North Dome.

The mighty powers of Nature, which have wrought such wonders in this

region, cleft this tower in twain, and disposed of the fragments in a

manner as mysterious as it must have been awful.

On the opposite side of Teneya Cañon is Half Dome—a perfectly

inaccessible crest. From a distance one might fancy that the

stone-cutter’s art had been brought to bear upon its perfectly rounded

summit. Upon closer inspection it is found that Time has been the

sculptor. The ages have cut out huge concentric layers of granite, and

scattered them about in picturesque confusion.

Yermah rode on up the cañon until his ears caught the notes of a

folk-song; then he dismounted and, fastening Cibolo to a live-oak, made

his way toward the music. Astonishment and delight transfixed his gaze.

At his feet lay the “Sleeping Waters,”[4] embowered by trees, and

environed on high by the dome already described. This water course leaps

from crag to pool, until it reaches equilibrium, and the surface of the

lake is as motionless and smooth as a mirror. The reflected domes, peaks

and trees are seen on its glassy bosom in perfect outline, seemingly

five hundred fathoms down, in exact representation of the beauties that

reach one mile into the air!

Yermah stood spellbound, not so much by this stupendous grandeur as by

the scene being enacted before him. He was so intently regarding it that

he scarcely saw or felt the shower of flint-headed arrows which fell in

profusion and ruffled the surface of the lake.

His eyes were riveted on a young woman who was in the act of speeding a

golden arrow over the heads of three other girls of nearly her own age,

and who were putting off from shore in a crescent-shaped boat, which

they propelled with long silvery oars. They were chanting softly, and

the air was redolent with the perfume of flowers, which completely

filled the boat, hanging in graceful profusion from prow and stern, in

wreaths of all sizes and colors.

The boat moved like a thing instinct with life, and as it disappeared on

the opposite side, Yermah’s tense gaze made itself felt on its object.

Kerœcia moved uneasily, and then looked fixedly into the water stretched

out before her. She first saw her own image, then beside it the ideal of

her dreams—a helmeted figure, reflected full-length in the limpid

stream.

His tunic was of purple cloth, confined at the waist by a wide striped

silk sash, which tied over the left hip and hung in long, heavy, fringed

ends. The short, full skirt was of orange silk, with a wide band of

embroidery around the bottom, and underneath were long, closely-woven

woolen leggins of purple. The feet were protected by sandals with

jeweled sides and straps across the instep. From his shoulders hung a

leopard-skin cloak, double-faced, so that it was alike on both sides.

He wore a square breastplate of stones, containing twelve jewels,

proclaiming that he was Master of the twelve councilmen, and ruled

continuously while the sun traveled through the twelve signs of the

zodiac. At his side hung a burnished bronze sword, with a beautifully

engraved scabbard, delineating a lion hunt from meet to finish.

At first Kerœcia was fascinated, then a feeling of fear stole over her.

She made a movement as if to fly, but in turning stood face to face with

Yermah. An inarticulate sound died on her lips as she started back

amazed and fearful. Her wide-eyed vision and strained attention searched

the countenance of the pale and agitated man, who stood so near her that

she felt the radiating warmth of his body. He remained motionless, but

she shrank back, and was momentarily rooted to the spot.

With a regal sweep of the arm, he bared his head, and with his right

hand made the hierophant sign of command. He opened the hand, palm

outward, the first two fingers pointing upward. He bowed profoundly, and

carried the helmet hand to his heart lightly.

Kerœcia quickly comprehending his intent as well as his rank and

station, courteously made the Atlantian sign of submission.

Yermah recognized it by a downward movement of his open right hand.

“Pleasing in my sight, and welcome to all the Monbas, is the Servitor of

Aztlan,” she said. “He who created the four elements forbid that fatigue

or discomfort should be thy portion.”

“It were an earthy spirit which could be mindful of the physical in this

magnificent temple,” replied Yermah.

His calm, even tones quieted and reassured her completely.

“Have none of my fellows shown thee courtesy? Thy exalted station and

goodness of heart demand much.”

“Ample consideration met us at the newel-post of this wondrous

structure. It were a puny effort indeed that would fail to convey such

welcome as the season and occasion warrant. In harmony with this spirit,

I have stolen away from my companions and have sought audience direct

with thee. If ill-considered abruptness gives rise to inharmonious

thought, forgive me. The head, and not the heart, is at fault.”

“Offense were not possible with this intent. And I were an unworthy

handmaiden should I harbor ill will on this day, holiest of all the year

to the Monbas.”

“I stand athirst for knowledge of the sacred rite already partially

witnessed. Is it lawful for an alien to know its import?”

“We who find divinity in the flowers, the birds, the sunshine, the

trees, the rocks, the streams, and the hills, have no secrets apart from

any living thing. But before thy special question, tell me of thy

comrades. Shall I face them here?”

“In this place, and soon. They skirted the southern wall. The women came

in chairs, lest fatigue should render them unfit to give heed to thy

many accomplishments. Tell me the office of the three graces in the

flower-laden boat.”

“All the ills of my people are consigned to those flowers. The ark in

the center contains a symbol of the all-pervading essence of creation,

and when the sun comes high enough to send a vertical ray into this ark,

the flowers which have been collected for the past three days will be

sacrificed by fire; and then we can go hence happy and content, free

from evil tendency within and without. Our faith is simple. We try to

live in harmony with the laws of Life and Love.”

“An artist who revels in the beauties of creation receives direct the

thoughts of the Eternal Father,” returned Yermah, reverently.

“A child inhaling the fragrance of a flower receives in the process of

transmutation the thoughts of the Creator.”

“Without the intervention of planetary influence?”

“The open flower, with its sun-rayed form, is to vegetation what the sun

is to the planets, and as man is to animal life. Flowers crown Nature’s

dominions.”

“The soul of man crowns all animate things,” persisted Yermah.

“When he crushes a beetle he destroys the life of what may some day be

his brother,” she answered, with a smile.

“Dost thou believe in transmigration? I am agreed with thee that life is

a vibration of Divine Will, moving in a spiral, but physical man is the

lowest rung contacted by the ego.”

“Oh, say not so! Is not the ego a ray of the creative energy itself?

Thinkest thou the human family the only emanation of Divinity worthy to

contact its Creator?”

“Yes,” he answered; “and only then by aspiring to a spiritual plane.”

“How many planes dost thou allot to man?”

“Three—the physical, the mental and the spiritual. A novice must perform

the nine labors in order to achieve perfection. Each plane is threefold,

like the alchemical sun, whose prototype blesses us with its preserving

rays. Unfold to me the principles of thy system.”

“The first degree is that of the crystallized mineral, typifying death.

The rocks and stones are of both sexes. Their sympathies and antipathies

constitute their laws of natural selection determined by the vegetation

produced from their soil. The second degree pertains to the subjective

spaces of the mineral world—the tiny races within the higher round of

that zone. Each life-atom is busy at its own appointed task, happy

beyond conception in its lowly spiritual state. The third degree is the

vegetable kingdom. The leaves are so placed that a line wound around the

stem of a plant, and touching the petiole of each leaf would be a

spiral. Where the leaves are in two rows, it is one-third the

circumference, and so on in successive trines.”

“No one could be more loyal than I to the great family of endogens,”

said Yermah. “They all go by threes, and are correlated to the Trinity.

We make the lily the type of purity; the palm, the type of perfect life,

which is service. The grains give the staff of life; the grasses cover

the earth, and feed our animals. The onion not only contains the

immortal elixir, but in its circles represents the growth of the

universe, and the orbits of the planetary system.”

“The exogens,” said Kerœcia, “are closer to our own lives. The rose

gains in beauty as it loses its power of reproduction, and the flower

which carpets our hillsides with patches of gold drops the calyx when it

arrives at perfection. It lives with the sun—opening and closing with

his coming and going, and is so delicate that we make it the symbol of

the soul.

“In the fourth degree are the flower nymphs, disporting themselves like

butterflies in the luminous ether of their round. Some bear resemblance

to beautiful girls, but are bright green, with large heads and small

bodies. In the full scale they show all the colors of the rainbow. The

fifth degree is the animal kingdom; the sixth is semi-human; the seventh

is man. Love is the only condition of creation—that love which is

perfect equilibrium between thyself and the universe.”

Neither spoke for several moments; then Yermah said, with a sigh of

contentment: “This is a veritable Temple of Love.”

“In very truth it is,” she returned; “and this is the season of renewal.

It is the breeding-time of flowers and of the feathered tribes. Look

here!”

She drew back a branch of eglantine, heavy with bloom, and nestled

cozily in the fork of the parent stem was a tiny grayish-white mass of

hair, fashioned into a nest by a gold-throated humming-bird. The mate

industriously sipped honey from blossom to blossom, while the watcher on

the nest put up its long, tube-like bill, waiting to be fed.

The birds twittered conjugal confidences unmindful of prying eyes.

Disturbed at last by the voices, both balanced in air, leaving exposed

to view two little spotted eggs, not larger than fine shot. They darted

about in evident distress, keeping up a constant humming with their

gauzy wings.

The man and woman paused but a second, and then passed on.

The Monbas believed in five sub-human kingdoms, peopled by entities. The

mineral kingdom was represented by gnomes; the vegetable kingdom, by

sylphs; the reptile, by fire or salamanders; water, by undines and

fishes. Kerœcia’s followers were the forerunners of the ancient Druids

and the modern gypsies.

The aim of all religions is to harmonize man with the laws which govern

the universe. The Monbas did this by metempsychosis of the sub-human

elements. They solved the great problem of absorbing into the astral

system the pure psychic elements about them, and reached divinity by

this process. It is for this reason that the gypsies never mingle with

other civilizations. They go to nature direct for their wisdom, and keep

away from cities for fear of losing their psychic powers.

On Good Friday, the gypsies still have their patriarch carry an ark or

basket, in the bottom of which has been placed a Saint Andrews cross.

Each member of the tribe lays a flower on the cross to abjure and

protect him against evil influences—thus perpetuating the idea of the

immaculate conception. The gypsies believe that the flowers give off

metempsychosis and absorb disease.

Orondo, Setos, Rahula and Ildiko with a retinue of tamanes, a Monbas

escort, and some burros laden with stout willow baskets and bags,

skirted the southern side of the valley in passing Cathedral Rock and

Spires.

There were splendid pitch-pine trees massed in the foreground, which

being duplicated on the top of the cliffs, looked like a mere fringe of

green thrown into relief against fleecy white clouds hurrying across the

turquoise sky in pursuit of some fleeting phantom of that eerie region.

The travelers found it warm work to cross the Merced River, near by; but

the cool sea-breezes began to blow up from the Golden Gate—for they were

almost opposite, in a direct line from Tlamco. In pushing on to Mirror

Lake, they followed the same path taken by Yermah. As they passed Indian

Cañon, they looked up the deep gorge to the eastward and saw that here

was the entrance and exit used by the Monbas.

As they neared the lake, they looked off in the distance to where

Cloud’s Rest connects with the High Sierra this chain of matchless

pearls from the mouth of Nature. Around the top of this extremely

elevated, steep, barren ridge hover continuously a bevy of cottony

clouds, while a lace-like scarf of fog softens the hard, unyielding

lines, and makes them tempt the soul of man to feats of the greatest

daring.

Presently was seen a thin, vapory line of smoke issuing from the

direction in which the boat had disappeared. Instantly the roads seemed

alive with people, coming from all directions, and making the welkin

ring with melodious sound. There were men, women and children, gay in

holiday attire, singing and gesticulating in the very ecstasy of joy.

They crowded the banks of the lake and waited expectantly.

At length a slender silver arrow flew up from the smoke clouds; then,

another; and again, a third. This was followed by a deafening blast of

trumpets, drums, cymbals, tambourines, pipes, and ear-splitting

whistles, as the priestesses re-embarked and slowly approached. The

first splash of the silvery oars was answered by a shout of triumph from

the opposite shore, followed by a song, in which three voices joined

with equal zest.

Then the crowd fell back, making room for Kerœcia and the tall, fair

stranger. He was intent and alert; she, smilingly gracious. As the boat

anchored, she raised her hand in blessing, for which Yermah reverently

uncovered.

The priestess stepped forward to receive an urn delicate and fragile as

the ashes of roses it contained, when a treacherous pebble turned her

ankle, and she would have fallen had not Yermah caught her by the arm in

time to prevent a painful strain upon the supporting muscles and

tendons. It was the unstudied act of a man of ready tact and faultless

breeding.

The hillsides and rock walls rumbled and echoed the burst of cheering

which greeted this feat. Again he uncovered and stood in a respectful

attitude until the three nimble-footed young women were on shore. They,

catching the infection, shared in the general excitement. By a common

impulse they arranged themselves in line, and stood with Yermah and

Kerœcia, bowing acknowledgments and participating in dumb show with the

spontaneous outpouring of good will.

“Alcyesta, Suravia, Mineola, accept the homage offered by Yermah, the

Dorado, of Aztlan, lately arrived from Tlamco,” said Kerœcia. “These are

my trusted hand-maidens. Receive service from them as from mine own

hands.”

“Such grace and fair fellowship bankrupts the offices of speech. Alone,

I am powerless to make adequate return; but here I have allies who will

amply requite thee,” saying which he turned to make room for his

companions, who had approached in the general confusion unobserved by

the company. Setos and Orondo uncovered and waited back of their

countrymen.

The gnomes, salamanders, sylphs, and undines of fairyland, peeping out

from each leaf and fragrant bloom, never beheld a lovelier vision than

that of Kerœcia and Ildiko, as they stood facing each other.

Kerœcia’s long, wavy bronze-red hair was confined by a jeweled band,

with three white ostrich tips in the center. She was gowned in simple

white, long and flowing. Around her neck were seven strands of pearls

fastened to a medallion composed of ruby, topaz, emerald, sapphire,

amber, amethyst and turquoise. Encircling her slender waist was an

enameled and jeweled girdle. The loose sleeves fell back from

exquisitely shaped arms, ornamented with bracelets, while numerous rings

adorned her taper fingers.

In her big Oriental eyes, shaded with long lashes, was a glint of the

bronze which the sun brought out in her hair. A ripened peach is the

only fitting comparison for her cheeks, and her tiny, even teeth

glistened white between the perfectly formed and curved lips which in

parting revealed them.

Ildiko, taller, and more slight, was a sharp contrast, her fuzzy white

hair, eye-brows, and lashes contrasting with her shell-pink skin. The

pale blue of her dress strengthened the color of her eyes, which were so

well set back that a full interpretation of their language baffled the

observer. There were embroideries and jeweled passementeries, the rich

arrangement of which showed the detail of her toilet. A gauze head-dress

supporting a thin veil, which fell well down over her back, helped the

illusion. She skillfully tried to get full benefit of the roseate rays

reflected by an umbrella held over her head by an attendant.

Yermah took her hand and placed it in Kerœcia’s outstretched palm, and

then put both his own over them protectingly.

“May such love as sisters bear each other bind thee.”

Then bringing Rahula forward, he presented her. A dark-red head-band,

glistening with jetted embroidery and drooping ear ornaments enhanced

the luster of her iron-gray hair, and somewhat softened the expression

of her wrinkled face. Not a facet of the jet sparkled brighter than her

beady, black eyes, which were never quite in accord with her thin

smiling lips.

Simple gold bands without ornament confined the locks of Alcyesta,

Suravia, and Mineola, that of the first and last being dark and

abundant, while Suravia’s hair was like spun gold in texture and color.

These bands did not go all the way around the head, but terminated over

each ear in medallions, jeweled and enameled in quaint design. Alcyesta

wore pale yellow; Suravia, lavender; and Mineola, pink. A bright plaid

sash was tied about each waist, and fell to the hem in the back. Sandals

with pointed toes, reaching well over the instep, protected the feet.

The other women wore dresses of cotton cloth made like chemises. These

were of four colors, and worn one over the other. The edges were

variously ornamented, some with figures, others again with embroidery or

saw-teeth appliqués of a different shade. Necklaces of beads, jeweled

belts, earrings, bracelets and sandals were common to them all. Some

wore crowns or other fanciful head-covering with bright feather

ornaments, while others braided their hair in two loose plaits, and

covered their heads with an indescribably fine-woven basket, highly

ornate, which came to a point at the top.

The Highlander of to-day would appreciate and admire the markings of the

cloth worn by these sturdy mountaineers. For the leaders, there were

plaids of seven colors; for the next in rank, five colors; for governors

of fortresses, four colors; for captains, three colors; for warriors,

two colors; for the common people, one color.

The warriors carried shields of flexible bamboo canes bound firmly

together, and covered with rawhide. These were ornamented with porcupine

quills, tortoise-shell, mother-of-pearl, and ivory, inlaid and

skillfully etched with mineral dyes, the rank of the wearer being

cleverly revealed in this manner. The shields were invariably circular

and convex in form. Worn next to the body, were plain white garments of

coarse texture, and on their heads were high conical hats, very like the

Astrakhan caps of to-day. Leggins much wrinkled and heavy sole-leather

sandals completed their costume.

In the solemn hush, four stalwart warriors of the Monbas stepped forward

and knelt upon the shore, grasping each other by the inner fore-arm,

near the elbow. Kerœcia and the three priestesses carefully lifted the

ark from the boat and placed it in the receptacle made by the

interlocked arms.

Taking a few of the ashes left in the urn, Kerœcia mixed them with salt,

which she stirred with an aspergillus made of medical herbs tied to a

hazel stick on which the four spirits were carved. The salt and incense

ashes were consecrated separately before using. She then took the four

alchemical elements, salt, mercury, sulphur and nitrogen, and sprinkled

them over the man holding a chalice representing water; an eagle, with a

nimbus around its head representing air; a tree of life, representing

fire; and the sword of Mithra, who annually immolates the sacred bull.

These correspond to mind, matter, motion and rest.

The special kingdom of the gnomes is in the north; that of the

salamanders, in the south; that of the sylphs, in the east; and that of

the undines, in the west. They influence the four temperaments of man.

The gnomes, the melancholic; the salamanders, the sanguine; the undines,

the phlegmatic; the sylphs, the bilious. The Monbas abjured them by

breathing, sprinkling, burning of perfumes, and by tracing a pentagram

on the ground.

Kerœcia holding a pentacle in one hand, and taking in turn a sword, a

rod, and a cup, faced the lake and said:

“Angel with the blind eyes, obey me, or pass away from the holy water!

Work, winged bull, or return to earth, if thou wouldst not be pricked by

this sword! Fettered eagle, obey this sign, or retire before my wrath!

Writhing serpent, crawl at my feet, or be tortured by the sacred fire,

and evaporate with the perfumes I am burning! Water, return to water;

fire, burn; air, circulate; earth, return to earth—by the power of the

pentagram, which is the morning star, and in the name of the tetragram,

which is written in the center of the cross of light. Auma!”

In the Egyptian and Jewish religions, three vestal virgins guard the

ark, typical of the Immaculate conception—in that the ark contains an

aerolite, or Heaven-born stone. In Greek mythology, the three graces

guard the sacred urn. The name Suravia signified the sun-way, or river

of light; Alcyesta, the ark, chest, or urn floating on the celestial

river; while Mineola, personated the divine soul-mind liberated in the

ark.

The flint-headed arrow is a phallic symbol of thought, and when the

Monbas shot arrows over water it was to destroy their unseen enemies;

the lake, to them, representing mind. The passage of the sun out of the

watery sign in the Spring equinox was the festival Kerœcia and her

people were celebrating.

CHAPTER SIX

THE AGREEMENT TO ARBITRATE THEIR SEVERAL DIFFERENCES

It was Jupiter’s Day (Thursday), and Akaza wore a scarlet robe of silk,

with embroidered bands, having the twelve signs of the zodiac worked out

in neutral tones of brown and green. On his head was a scarlet

liberty-cap with the sign of Jupiter on the forehead and his long hair

and beard had been curled into nine parts, typical of the nine phases of

initiation which he had passed. He wore a sapphire ring on the middle

finger of his right hand, and his breastplate was of emeralds, set in

silver.

With a single tamane and a guide, Akaza followed the course of the

Merced River and reveled in the luxuriant vegetation which changes in

character and development according to locality.

Near the falls were dense growths of alder, willow and spruce, and in

the upper valley were sugar-pine and yellow and bastard cedar in

abundance.

The Balm of Gilead, poplar and black oak haunted the swampy places where

snowy pond-lilies rode in imperious fashion over the moisture. There was

a wilderness of sparkling mosses thriving in the spray of waterfall and

cascade.

Back in cool, shady greeneries, were an infinite variety of ferns,

ranging from tall bracken to feathery maidenhair clinging to the eerie

crevices high up on the sky line.

Maple, laurel, and manzanita with dainty bell-shaped blossoms colored

like a baby’s palm, had as companion another member of the buck-thorn

family, the white lilac. And these seemed intent upon concealing the

basis of the different falls. Here, also, was the madrono, “the

harlequin of the woods,” in buff and red bark, in a chronic state of

dishabille. But who would find fault with the toilet process which

changes the older, darker bark for the delicate cream-colored covering

which lies underneath?

A noisy, chattering bluejay, the scandal-monger of the bird family,

protested vigorously against the incursion of this venerable old man.

Vociferous and argumentative, the feathered opponent grew tired of

useless opposition, and, as a practical joke, concealed itself in the

clump of leaves and screamed like a hawk near where a flock of small

birds were enjoying themselves in their own fashion.

The songsters recovered from their fright while the rascal was giving

vent to a cackle which sounded like a derisive laugh, and then they

combined forces to drive the intruder out of the neighborhood. The

bluejay proved to be as full of fight as of mischief, but a severe

conflict produced an appreciable amendment of manners.

Even the red-headed wood-pecker ceased hammering holes in the trees and

stopped long enough to inspect the stranger. It may have been only a

trick of the bluejay’s to entice the worker away from the tree to allow

a raid on the store-house of acorns. It did the pilferer no good,

however; for the carpenter-bird never makes a mistake in selecting

acorns to fit the holes made for them. From the beginning of time the

bluejay has never been able to appreciate this fact.

The chip-munks, the grasshoppers and the squirrels peeped and wondered

from different points of vantage, while a mother partridge by fluttering

and scurrying along the ground, sought to divert attention from her tiny

striped-back brood huddled up on one foot under a friendly bunch of

wild-strawberry leaves.

A pair of quail established themselves in the screen of a honey-suckle

vine, and the little crested head of the family was feeding his small

mate a dainty tidbit, having coaxed her up into that leafy retreat to

discuss the viand. Ring-doves cooed lovingly to each other, while the

now extinct wild turkey sunned itself and preened its bronze feathers,

perched high on the top of the bare rock above.

Up near the snow-line were red patches of snow-plants, looking like huge

semi-transparent globules of crystallized sugar, having stem, bells and

leaves all of one color, curiously mingled and intertwined.

Every inch of Akaza’s advance was contested by some flowering plant.

Sometimes it was the drooping boughs of the white blossoming dog-wood.

Again, it was a rhododendron bush stubbornly blocking the way. Or,

perhaps, it was a shower of azalea blooms that fairly smothered him. The

spice-bush, with its long, slender green leaves, and odd-shape

wine-colored flowers, locked horns with the tall shapely Shasta Lily.

The gossamer, glass-like mountain mahogany disputed honors with a

flaring brown-and-orange tiger-lily, while the pentstemon, distinctly

blue at the base and pink at the rim of its cup, coquetted with a dainty

butterfly-lily. “Like a bubble borne on air, floats the shy Mariposa

Bell,” with its purplish white, its faint tint of pink or pale gold,

each petal brocaded in soft shades of bronze-brown or patched with

plush, as if fairy finger-tips had smutched them before the paints were

dry.

Who does not know the yellow buttercup which faces the world everywhere,

the red columbine, whose chandelier of scarlet tongues makes light in

dark places, or the well-beloved larkspur?

Then purple thistle, goldenrods and dandelions shook their heads

vigorously in the refreshing breeze, and argued it out with the grasses

and ice-plants lying flat on the ground, where only a muchly debased

cactus bristled and threatened everything that ventured even to look at

its forbidden fruit.

The day was well nigh spent when Akaza approached the camp near the

mouth of the Indian Canyon. Yermah and Kerœcia advanced to meet him,

hand in hand, like happy children. Kerœcia did not wait for a formal

presentation but came forward graciously.

“Patriarch and hierophant,” she said, “this temple awaits thy

ministration. The love and obedience of my people and myself are thine

to command.”

“Fair daughter of the gods, thou hast already a place in my heart, as I

perceive thou hast in the affections of my comrades. Mayst thou ever be

surrounded by a nimbus of joy and gladness.”

As Akaza’s lips lightly brushed her glowing cheek, Yermah perceived that

his vision was turned inward and that he prayed silently.

Kerœcia turned toward her attendants, but with her own hands served

Akaza curds and a gourd of goat’s milk. She also broke the thin corn

cakes and arranged some fruit temptingly near him. Akaza opened an

oblong comb of wild honey and laid the ripe figs around it. As he poured

thick, yellow cream over them, he murmured:

“As it was written! As it was written!”

Concerned for him, Yermah touched him on the shoulder.

“Is it not well?” he asked eagerly.

When the elder man saw the glow of happiness on the questioning face, he

involuntarily groaned; but he answered steadily:

“From the beginning all things are ordered well.”

* * * * *

The evening shadows grew apace; but before darkness came on, Kerœcia

prepared the pipes, which were to be lighted as an offering to fire.

Igniting the first one, a fragile porcelain bowl with an amber

mouthpiece, she first drew three puffs out of the pipe, and then emptied

the ashes on a platter of beaten silver. Dexterously replenishing the

tobacco and substituting an ivory mouthpiece, she passed it to Yermah.

He followed her example, and replacing the ivory with tortoise-shell,

handed the pipe to Akaza.

The priestesses and the remainder of the company did likewise, always

substituting one stick for another until all had smoked and each had a

souvenir which was believed to bring good luck. The ashes were placed in

the urn with the rose ashes collected from the ark—and the great Monbas

festival was over.

Kerœcia was not a Monbas. Her people were known to the Atlantians as

Ians; to the Persians, they were Scythians; to the Medes, they were

known as Suani; to the early Europeans, they were Visigoths, alternately

feared and admired; while by later generations, they were called

Circassians.

Theirs was the Vinland of the Norsemen and their empire extended over a

large part of ancient Persia. They were old in civilization, before

Nineveh and Babylon. Theirs was the land of Phrasus, where the Argonauts

sailed after the siege of Troy. At that time, they had outlying colonies

along the Siberian and extreme northwestern coast of America. The

Aleutian group of islands was then an unbroken chain, with a climate as

mild as any portion of the temperate zone.

Kerœcia, a pure-blooded Aryan, was the crown princess of the reigning

house of Ian, and it was after her abduction that the famous

fortification named by the Greeks, “Gates of Caucasus,” was built in the

Darien Pass of the Caucasus Mountains leading out from Tiflis.

From the beginning of history, patriotism and beauty have been

accredited these people. Mithridates and Schamyl are the heroes of later

times. There is a tragic pathos in the self-immolation this remnant of

half a million souls voluntarily underwent when they were conquered by

Russia. After this event, they emigrated in a body and became Turkish

exiles.

“Speak freely, as thou wouldst to a father,” said Akaza to Kerœcia,

privately, the next morning, while the whole company were on their way

to Bridal Veil Falls. “If our offer to arbitrate between thy people and

Eko Tanga is displeasing to thee, consider all things unsaid.”

“It is a question my followers must decide for themselves. They need

have no fear. I will never leave them. They stole me away when a child

but I love them as my own.”

“Rumor has it that thy visit was compulsory—that the Monbas brought thee

here intending to fortify the place and then refuse to receive Eko

Tanga.”

“This is not true. I came to perform the rite of renewal and

purification, and shall tell the representatives from my father that I

do not desire my so-called freedom. He should long ago have given the

Monbas all that he has promised them in hope of having me returned to

him.”

“Then thou art not retained against thy wish?” asked Yermah, who in

company with Orondo joined them in time to hear the last remark.

“No, truly. The Monbas are as dependent as children and in no

circumstances will I fail in my duty to them.”

“Wilt thou visit Tlamco while Eko Tanga is here?”

It would have been hard to determine which of the men felt the greatest

interest in her answer. Yermah, Akaza and Orondo were each a study at

this moment.

“My followers shall answer thy question. If consistent with their

wishes, it will greatly please me to go.”

“Then we shall be honored with thy presence soon,” said Orondo. “A

feeling of delicacy represses an expression of opinion. But I have

knowledge that they will feel more secure if thou wilt accept our

protection.”

“And the same feeling would prompt me to ask their permission,” she

answered with a smile.

“So be it. To serve loyally is the office we desire.”

* * * * *

“This bright reflected glory pictures life,” exclaimed Yermah, as the

warm afternoon sun spanned the long flowing veil of the falls with a

succession of rainbows.

“Tell us why,” asked Kerœcia, and with a gesture of silence awaited an

answer.

The pink and pride of Tlamco was before them, but he was still too young

a man to teach philosophy. He looked appealingly at Akaza.

“Tell them why this rainbow is like the upward spiral compared with

humanity,” directed Akaza. Then he turned to the multitude and said:

“Hear my pupil with patience. It is not lawful for youth to speak

esoterically.”

Yermah flushed with pleasure and answered readily:

“Love, as the negative, or feminine, ray of Biune Deity is content and

ever seeks to enfold. Wisdom, as the positive, or masculine, ray, is

restless, and always in pursuit. The feminine forces in nature strive to

encircle the atom, while the masculine attempt to propel it in a

straight line. From this dual action of spiritual potentialities is born

the spiral—the symbol of eternal progression. Man’s will is electric,

penetrating and disruptive. The will of woman is magnetic, attractive

and formative. The two express the polar opposites of nature’s creative

powers.”

“The sun is the center,” continued the speaker, “and around him, like a

group of obedient children, are the seven planets of the mystical chain.

Each orb produces innumerable types of fauna and flora, corresponding to

the action of its own peculiar grades of spiritual force. Each comprises

a miniature world of its own. But each planet contains all the

attributes of the other six.”

“We will engrave these sayings on plates of copper, write them on skins

of animals, mold them on cylinders of clay, that they may instruct our

tribesmen,” said the Monbas to each other in undertones.

“From the spinal column and the base of the brain issue streams of

vitalizing power, causing individuals to attract or repel one another.

These radiating magnets finally assume the form of spirals, which

encircle the earth and penetrate to its very center, and then expand

themselves, mist-like, into beautiful rainbows, such as we see here.”

“In which direction do they go?” asked Kerœcia.

“They flow backward in their orbit, and gradually ascend spirally. The

first round corresponds to the earth’s annual orbit around the sun, and

is red. Each convolution doubles in size as it ascends. The second round

is orange; the third, yellow; the fourth, green; the fifth, blue; the

sixth, indigo; and the last is violet.”

“Haille! Haille!” they cried. And the outburst was as spontaneous from

one side as from the other.

* * * * *

Kerœcia held up her hand to command attention.

“Comrades, thou knowest the mission of our brothers from Tlamco. What

are thy wishes?”

“We desire the little mother to follow her own inclination. We feel that

she would be safe and free from annoyance in Tlamco,” they answered.

Kerœcia smiled broadly. Turning to Yermah, she asked:

“When will thy city receive me?”

“Whenever it pleases thee to come. We will gladly do escort duty now.”

“That were not possible. But in a fortnight expect me.”

“Haille! Haille!” echoed again and again.

It was fully an hour before the presents were all exchanged. There were

exquisite articles of ivory, carved and chased in colors, and inlaid

with metals and stones. Baskets of incredible fineness and blankets such

as the Navajo Indians used to make were given by the Monbas.

Cunningly wrought cups of pottery were offered to Kerœcia by Ildiko, one

being of her own make. It was round, and had for a handle a female head,

which was an excellent likeness of herself. Taking a finely woven

horsehair rope, which terminated in oblong onyx balls—Kerœcia swung one

end high over her head, while retaining the other in her left hand.

Facing Yermah, she entangled him completely by a dexterous turn of her

wrists, despite his playful protest. The two balls swinging in opposite

directions rapidly encircled and held him as if in a grip of steel.

“That, also, is a spiral movement,” she exclaimed, mischievously.

“And one which I have neither the desire nor the power to control or

escape,” he replied, meaningly.

“The laws of hospitality declare the property confiscate to thee. The

cord should be condemned to a life of hard service.”

“On the contrary, it shall have a high place in my affections, and shall

receive state honors.”

There was that in his look and voice which sent the warm blood mantling

to her cheek and brow.

Akaza came forward and with a blessing slipped a ring on her little

finger. It was set with a garnet, having a lion intaglio.

“This will guard thee on thy journey, and prevent evil machinations from

having control over the matters in hand.”

What she said in return was drowned in the blare of trumpets and the

general preparations for departure.

“May Ambra plant flowers and make thy life a garden spot. May the Good

Spirit protect and bless thee and thine,” was shouted after the moving

column.

“May the spirits of darkness never cast a shadow on thy pathway,” came

in answering echoes, as the trees and rocks finally hid the departing

embassy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

KEŒCIA VISITS THE ENCHANTED GARDENS

It was called the “Lifting of Banners” the day that the high-priestess,

Kerœcia, arrived in Tlamco and the anniversary was for centuries after,

celebrated with much pomp and ceremony.

Stout ropes of similar fiber to that in use to-day were stretched from

the inner to the outer circle of obelisks. At regular intervals along

these lines were strung bits of cotton cloth in octavos of coloring,

alternating square and triangular shapes with innumerable devices

painted upon them.

Pennants of the priesthood, of the civic federation, and of the

innumerable clans, were everywhere afloat on the breeze, while Iaqua was

a mass of Monbas streamers, banners and flags. All of the balsas flew

the colors of the high-priestess, and there was a splendid escort

pageant along the canal.

When Kerœcia approached the landing, long lines of citizens extended

from Iaqua to the water’s edge. As Yermah led the way in a state

chariot, a deafening shout arose. The wheels fairly flew over the

causeway as the thoroughbred horses galloped in even step under Yermah’s

steady hand. Kerœcia stood beside him happy and smiling graciously.

The chariot was of ivory and gold, resplendent with jewels. The hub of

each wheel was a golden sunburst, while the twelve spokes representing

the signs of the zodiac, were outlined with appropriate gems and colors.

This gorgeous state vehicle was drawn by three white horses caparisoned

in creamy white and gold with rows of jewels and crests of tropic

plumage held in place with long twisted ropes of yellow silk. A canopy

of the same flaming yellow fabric intricately brocaded, protected the

occupants from the sun.

Yermah wore a white chamois tunic, rich with gold embroideries, his head

being covered with a helmet of the same metal. His mantle was a gorgeous

feather mosaic of bronze green. In addition to a sword, he carried a

circular shield of bronze, in the center of which was a dragon and in

the outer edge were seven rings. The four seasons were also shown. The

scenes represented plowing, seed-time, harvest, and winter surrounded by

a meander symbolizing the ocean.

Kerœcia was enveloped in a mantle of ermine, lined with the soft gray

breast of sea-gulls. On her head was a rainbow band of silk fastened in

front by a jeweled aigrette. Both Kerœcia and Yermah wore the full

decoration and insignia of their rank. The out-riders and attendants

were mounted and equipped as befitted their station. Even Oghi, chained

to the back of the chariot, seemed to enjoy the pageant.

The main entrance to Iaqua was on the south side, where the massive

double-doors of the vestibule led to a terrace which was approached by

broad, low steps. There were eight of these flights, and it required

three more steps to reach the threshold which was of pink-veined marble.

On each side of the rows of steps were slightly raised flat pedestals

surmounted by groups of statuary of well-known Atlantian heroes. These

burnished figures were made of that peculiar bronze amalgam, known only

to the ancients, which never lost its original brilliancy, and being

exceptionally hard was also of fine color.

There was a colonnade of massive marble pillars supporting a frieze and

entablature. Above this was a flat roof surrounded by a parapet

breast-high. The outside walls were of marble veneer unpolished and laid

like rubble over the thick adobe bricks.

Once inside the vestibule, a scene of splendor greeted the eye. On the

right, or eastern side of the entrance, was the rising sun-god driving

his four horses out of the sea, the group being of flawless marble and

of heroic size. The sunburst around the head of the figure, the

trappings of the horses, and the trimmings of the chariot were of virgin

gold.

On the left, or western side, the moon-goddess was represented as

driving her horses into the sea. She was seated on the back of one and

guiding the other six. This group was cut in black marble and profusely

ornamented with silver.