Mists lay in strata along the hills showing the green grass between in long, even stripes. Up from the high mesas sprang the larks ready to greet the day, or perching for a moment on some sturdy manzanita they spread their broad tails, with two white feathers, balancing and chirping cheerily. A little valley through which an arroyo flowed, scantily bordered by low growing willows, formed the scene; on one side was a stubble-field with many cattle grazing on the new grass; there were a few dark oaks and then on the first risings, yellow patches of vineyards with red, ploughed ground dotted with manzanitas. The high hills which formed the background were rough and black. In the hollow at the foot of the mesa was a newly formed pond on which floated branches of trees, bits of wood and some broken pieces of household furniture; about the grass was strewn the same sort of drift and the grass itself was torn and bent and there were yellow-white bits of foam upon it. At one side wedged between two encina trees lay the roof of a house, on the edge of which a little child was sitting beside the body of a man, who lying with one arm hung listlessly over the side seemed asleep or dead. The pond was fast lowering, leaving its burden of debris scattered about. This was the scene which met the searching eyes of Jovita of Tulucay Rancho as, mounted on her horse, she came around the knoll which hid the house and buildings of the rancho from the meadow. Jovita quickly alighted, took up the child in her arms, and seeing that he was unhurt but simply dazed at his situation, placed him upon her horse and gave her attention to the man who lay there, to all appearances dead. "Unfortunate man," she said aloud, unable to repress her tears, "his wife has probably been lost and he has saved their child." She took his hand in hers and felt that his pulse was yet beating; a bruise on the temple seemed to be the only wound and was caused by the blow which had stunned him. As Jovita chafed his hands and smoothed his forehead, he opened his eyes, and then looking about astonished at his surroundings, asked, "Where is the Christchild? Surely I have saved him." The little one from the back of the horse began in his strange tones to sing the "Song of the Hemlock" in answer to Crescimir's enquiry. "I hardly know where we are, for in the darkness and swift whirl of last night I lost my way," he said, sitting up. "I remember now that something struck me when the raft stopped. I thank God that the Christchild was not lost, dear little fellow." "Christchild?" exclaimed Jovita, looking at him in surprise, "Have you given your boy that name?"